Page 59 of Hallow Hill at Halloween: Part One

He moved closer, eyes shining brightly in a way they hadn’t before. I backed away. That small dance was repeated while I was trying to figure out what to do next.

Fortunately, since I don’t have George Foreman’s strength or MacGyver’s brains, I was mightily relieved when help arrived. The main entrance to Molly’s burst open with a small crowd of people, each holding a branch of wolfsbane. At the head of them was Esmerelda chanting words from a unknown but hypnotic language. Jeff was careful to prop the door open and leave a clear path for the werewolf’s retreat.

Vuk instantly took it all in.

“You did this?” he said, sounding deeply betrayed.

“I asked for help because I can’t get you to go away and leave me alone.”

“That’s what you really want?” He looked partly confused, partly brokenhearted.

“Look,“ I said. “I know somebody who is legendary at matchmaking. I’m sure there’s somebody out there who’s perfect for you. It’s just not me.”

He looked at Esme. I couldn’t tell much from his expression. It might have been hatred but could just as easily have been interest.

Oh no. I was thinking. Same problem. She’s got a sephalion, too.

When Vuk looked at the door, Lochlan shook his branches in the werewolf’s direction like they were pom-poms and said, “Go on, now. Shoo. Shoo.”

After giving Lochlan an especially dirty look which, Lochlan may or may not have had coming, Vuk turned to me and said, “It’s not over, beauty.”

Beauty! Why, I’ll beauty you!

The part of me that governs good judgment got hold of my mouth and kept me quiet. Let the werewolf have the dignity of the last word.

He walked toward the door with an even pace broken only by Jeff accidentally dropping a branch of wolfsbane in his path. “Oops,” Jeff said, picking it up. “What do we have here? Something that doesn’t bother any creature in the universe except…”

Jeff pointed to the fifteen or so people forming an aisle toward the door. In unison they said, “Werewolf.”

If they’d thought being identified would bother Vuk Redfurd, they were really off their game. He laughed and, okay I’ll say it, preened a little.

As he passed Esme, she handed him a card, and said, “Come and see me when you’re serious.”

I had no doubt the card said something like Matchmaker Extraordinaire. He took the card gingerly, looked at it, then looked Esme over like he was assessing her for runner up. In another world I might’ve wanted bragging rights about being the one he looked up first, but not this one.

When he was content that he’d taken in everything there was to know about Esme visually and olfactorily, he threw me a parting grin over his shoulder, said, “Soon,” and exited faster than my eyes could track. From the look Jeff was giving the pub door, it hadn’t been too fast for him.

He looked over at me. “What was that?” he asked.

“You know.”

“I’m talking about you bringing a werewolf into the pub. What’s the first rule of Molly’s Pub?”

“Uh. I don’t know.”

“Well, I’ll tell you. No werewolves allowed.”

I looked around for the zillionth time. “I don’t see any rules.”

“Does everything have to spelled out?”

“Um. Maybe?”

He started to walk away in disgust.Disgust?Jeff can’t be disgusted with me. It’s not allowed.

I followed him. “Seriously, I didn’t know there are any rules beyond, you know, no shirt, no shoes, no service.”

He stopped being disgusted so that he could look thoughtful for a moment. “No shirt. No shoes. No service,” he repeated. “Has a ring. Maybe we’ll use that.”

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