Page 120 of The Executioners Three
And Freddie beamed. That, she felt, was probably the closest she’d ever gotten to a confirmation so far. “Good to know. Be on the lookout for vampires.”
“And your second question?” Li prompted, lifting the bottle to his lips.
“Will you hire me after I graduate in June?”
He choked, half spitting his soda out, while Harris’s eyebrows shot so high they pulled two curls loose from her bun. “Um, you’re a little young, Ms. Gellar.”
Freddie lifted a palm. “I turn eighteen in April, which is old enough for a summer internship. I asked Jeeves what the federal standard is.”
“Yeah, but we’re also not like other federal departments.” Li wiped his mouth.
“True,” Freddie forged on. “But you told me yourself that I’m unique because I not onlyrememberedwhat happened here, but I alsoacceptedit so easily. Surely you would want such a skillset in your internship pool—”
“We don’t have interns.”
“—and I will also add,” Freddie launched her voice a bit louder, “that I am locally known as the Answer Finder. Because I’m very good at sniffing out answers, obviously, and I helped the sheriff catch a shoplifter last year.” She flipped her hair. “I’m also known as the Prank Wizard, although I suspect that’s less relevant to your needs.
“Still, you won’t find a better intern for your branch in Chicago, so you can expect to hear from me in six months.”
“Except we still don’t do internships,” Li said.
“Oh, but youwill.” Freddie bared her most charming grin. “Look—your partner has already accepted this fact. Tell him, Agent Harris.”
The woman laughed. “I didn’t say anything!”
“Yes, but I can tell by that twinkle in your eye that you already know I’ll be at your side soon enough, helping you track down vampires.”
Harris shrugged at Li. “She’s persuasive. You gotta give her that.”
Li only scowled. “Look.” He screwed the top onto his soda. “Just stay out of trouble, okay, Ms. Gellar? Yes, you have a…talentmost people lack, but don’t be stupid about it.”
“Absolutely.” Freddie smiled sweetly.
“No, butreally,Ms. Gellar.” This was Agent Harris. “Please don’t go looking for unexplained phenomena. It’s dangerous.”
Freddie nodded solemnly. “The truth is out there.” She turned to leave, bike wheels squeaking.
And Harris—after a surprised snort—called: “Okay, we heard that, you know.”
“Heard what?”
“That you just quotedThe X-Filesinstead of agreeing.”
“Oopsies!” Freddie swung her leg over the bike seat and flung a final, innocent grin at the agents. “See you in six months, partners! And don’t you worry, because I’ll definitely have a schtick by then.”
She pushed into the pedals. The bike squeaked anew, and if Harris or Li shouted anything after her, Freddie didn’t hear.
The October wind bit across her. Fallen leaves smeared by.
29
Thanks to the incredible scraping skills of Agents Harris and Li—and thanks to the terrible memory skills of the entirety of Berm—the Fête du Bûcheron unfolded on Halloween without a hitch.
Sure, some of the schoolhouse benches had been replaced by a hodgepodge of lawn chairs from different yards across Berm. And yeah, the stage was crooked and missing the tree that would normally get sawed in half. And okay, the absence of Mrs. Ferris’s jams made everybody cry at least once.
But there was enough hot cider—most of it spiked—and enough Halloween cheer to keep the fête running smoothly. Even the jack-o’-lantern contest went by with only three accusations of bribery and one accusation of sabotage.
Perhaps most important of all, there was so much money flowing from wallets into the Village Historique coffers that Mom was borderline euphoric all day—which in turn made Freddie borderline euphoric as well. Until right now at least, at the final event of the day: the Lumberjack Pageant.
