Page 17 of A Dead End Wedding

Three hours later, at eight o’clock, we walked into the packed auditorium for the town hall meeting.

“I told you we should have left earlier,” I whispered, knowing Jack would hear me even over the crowd.

“Really? So we could spend even more time here?” He raised an eyebrow and gave me a sardonic look.

Good point.

Deputy Andy Kelly waved us to seats in the front row next to his and Susan’s.

“Hey, Andy. Where’s Lizzie?”

Lizzie Underhill was Dead End’s newest deputy, the one whose salary was paid for by Jack’s donation. She was also a werewolf with some issues, but we didn’t talk about that.

“Somebody had to be on duty while the rest of us were here,” Andy muttered. “I can’t believe we’re at it again. I’m awfully tired of the Fae.”

“Don’t let them hear you say that,” I warned. “Where’s Charithra?”

He brightened. He and Dead End’s new veterinarian, Dr. Charithra Kumari, were definitely a thing. I really liked her, so I was happy for both of them.

“She had to babysit a sick cheetah cub for Mr. Ermintrude until the wildlife rescue organization can arrive tomorrow to get her.”

Sherlock Ermintrude rescued wild and exotic animals from misguided people who’d acquired them as “pets,” and then were unhappy when little Spot took a chunk out of their arm or peedon the couch to mark their territory. And Sherlock didn’t confine his methods to the strictly lawful, but nobody cared, because cheetah-napping a cub from some idiot who’d kept her in a cage in his living room was absolutely the right thing to do.

“Shh!” Susan hissed. “Here’s Mayor Ruby.”

Sure enough, the crowd was quieting down as my Aunt Ruby walked onto the stage, clutching a pile of papers.

“Settle down, everybody,” she said, her stern mayor face on. “I know most of you have probably heard this, gossip being what it is, and I saw the Dead End text chain lighting up like fireworks at the Fourth of July, but here’s what we’re facing.”

She outlined the situation but had to pause a few times for loudly expressed outrage.

“I know. I know. But the Fae gave us this charter in the beginning. It encompassed all of Black Cypress County, which is mainly Dead End and the swamp.”

“Speaking of which, I wonder where the troll is?” I whispered to Jack, but he shushed me.

“Tonight, at midnight, Mrs. Frost will compete in archery against an immortal Fae warrior who has probably been expert with bow and arrow since childhood,” Aunt Ruby continued.

“Our Mrs. Frost will kick their immortal butt!” Rooster shouted from across the aisle from us. “And if she doesn’t, I’ll kick their actual butt!”

Rooster was a seven-feet-tall, four-hundred-pound block of solid muscle. He was a mostly retired smuggler, had a terrifying scowl, and despite all that, he was one of the sweetest people I knew. If he said he’d kick somebody’s butt, though, that somebody was in serious trouble.

“Let’s hear from our champion,” Aunt Ruby said with a flourish. She was much better at dramatic pronouncements than I’d known before she took this job.

Everyone in the auditorium stood and cheered as Mrs. Frost toddled onto the stage.

And we cheered.

And we cheered.

And we cheered.

Because it took her alongtime to make it to the middle of the stage with her walker.

“I went home and counted up my medals before my nap,” she said into the microphone after Aunt Ruby adjusted it to be much, much shorter. “Over the years, I’ve won one hundred and thirty-nine medals for archery, even more than for my baking.”

Applause thundered through the room.

“Tonight, I plan to make it one hundred and forty!”

---