Rook

droopy ears.
    “Oh! I have a bunny!” Myfanwy knelt down and reached out a hand. Wolfgang continued to look at her but submitted to a tentative stroking and accepted a carrot. “How are you, Wolfgang?” Receiving no answer, she settled her mind that he was not a supernatural rabbit and turned her thoughts to what needed to be done.
    Obviously, the issue of the Grafters had to be addressed—especially if they sent over any more operatives. Wattleman had seemed irate at just one Grafter’s stepping on British soil. Any more, and he’d be spitting bullets. But the normal day-to-day operation of the Rookery could not go on hold, and Myfanwy had to learn all she could about her job. She still had no idea who in the Court had ordered the attack on Thomas.
    Myfanwy returned to the bedroom to get dressed. The Rooksand the Chevaliers would be meeting, and she wanted to know who she’d be dealing with. They’d seemed all right the previous evening, although no one is really at his best when he learns of an impending invasion. She’d quite liked Heretic Gubbins, although she suffered from an almost overwhelming urge to get out an eyebrow pencil and make some corrections on his eyebrowless face, and she was impressed by the massive number of cigarettes Eckhart had managed to consume. Grantchester, she was willing to admit, was pretty damn attractive, even if he was a couple of decades older than her, and the image of the pimped-out residence seemed to hover behind him. Gestalt was disconcerting. And what was the deal with that Alrich? He was gorgeous to look at, but his presence gave her a funny feeling in her stomach—and not in a good way. It was time to get back to the purple binder.
     
Major Joshua Eckhart, Chevalier
    Was born to a nothing family in York. Now, keep in mind that I’m not in any real position to judge, since as far as I can recall, my family was in no way special. But my parents were decent people, and we ate dinner together, and I loved them. I feel relatively safe in asserting that there is no way little Joshie Eckhart loved his parents. They seem to have been two of the nastiest people ever born in Great Britain, and I regard it as a miracle that after meeting, they elected to marry and have a child rather than kill each other. Of course, their killing each other would have done the rest of the world a favor, so I suppose it’s in keeping with the typical conduct of Mr. and Mrs. Eckhart that in this regard they screwed humanity over.
    You know, I learn a lot of depressing facts in this job, but very little gets me as down as knowing that Chevalier Eckhart’s parents are not dead but are in fact still living together in York and receiving a discreet Checquy stipend. Their one redeeming feature is that they had only one child, and he was taken away from them.
    Eckhart Senior, Joshua’s father, engaged in any number of stereotypical criminal activities. Let’s not, however, ascribe any talent or glamour to Mr. Eckhart. We are not talking about some lithe cat burglar, or even a deft little pickpocket. His career was limited to the least sophisticated crimes. If it didn’trequire any skill or morals, he was willing to do it. In fact, it was pretty much the only thing he was willing to do. He was a stupid, violent man who enjoyed breaking things such as windows, bottles, and his six-year-old son’s jaw.
    Mrs. Eckhart was little better. The only reason she didn’t set about delivering vicious beatings for money was that she lacked the appropriate strength; that, and the fact that she rarely emerged from the bottle long enough to do anything except acquire the next bottle.
    The reports from the social worker who went to the Eckhart household read like Stephen King writing for
House & Garden.
The woman who was inspecting the place used many more exclamation points than is normal in a government report and sustained bites from both a bulldog and Joshua himself. As a result of his negligent upbringing, the boy was filthy, malnourished, and feral. He slept under his bed and stole food from those around him, and his knowledge of the English language was based in great part on the conversations he heard between his parents. To this day, he retains a massive vocabulary of obscenities, although he doesn’t generally use any of them.
    Joshua was taken into the government system, and he flourished. The poor kid never actually left the orphanage but was fortunate enough to be placed in the care of good