Page 6 of Curses & Cold Brew
“Already?” I looked up at the clock. Only two a.m. Usually, we stayed and talked until sunrise.
“Work waits for no one,” she replied with a sigh. NowthatI understood. “I’ve got this girl right where I want her, too. Selling her soul to me for internet fame, of all things.” She let out a rueful laugh. “I’ll give her a few viral videos for her juicy soul. See you next week?”
“Yeah. Next week,” I said tightly, not wanting to admit that our weekly outings at The Bloody Mary were one of the few things keeping me from tearing my skin off at the moment.
Drool spilled from Stephanie’s mouth as she wiped at the condensation rings left on the bar. A quick swipe with her bar rag and her cover was once again as clear as a crystal ball. Either that or the customers would think she was really committing to the bit.
Delightful.
Maybe a new suit would help. Or brokering another deal.
Just then, I felt the thrill of an impending death hot on the wind. It tasted like spiced cinnamon and ash on my tongue. My limbs tingled in knowing. The owner of the B&B was not long for this world, it seemed . . .
Thank fucking Lucifer.
A soul collection was exactly what I needed after this shitty day. This old lady would help keep the big boss off my ass while I figured out who’d stolen Saul’s soul. The last thing I needed was for Lucifer or one of the kings of hell siccing their hounds on me . . .again.
I threw a stack of cash on the bar, and Stephanie let out a grunt. “Leaving so soon?”
Rolling my shoulders back, I straightened my blazer. “Work waits for no one.”
4
IRIS
“There you are!” I exclaimed with relief as I crunched through the thick layer of leaves to scoop up Ichabod. He purred in my arms as I tucked him against me, his little onyx body vibrating in contentment. It wasn’t like him to wander off like this, so I ran right over when Randy—the new pumpkin patch caretaker—called to let me know our little familiar was loose on his farm.
The twinkling lights and rusty lanterns of the pumpkin patch had all been turned off for the night. The shed was locked up, and the customers were long gone. Artfully displayed baskets of gourds, papery stalks of dried corn, and bales of hay still sat around the central kiosk, which had been boarded up for the night, along with all of the pumpkin-carving tools and decorations.
Next to the shed was a table with all of this week’s pumpkin-carving competition winners. The designs were locked in plexiglass cages for the night, as if they were as priceless as the Crown Jewels. It wasn’t uncommon for rowdy teens to cause a little mischief—like smashing perfectly carved pumpkins.
I scratched under Ichabod’s chin as I wandered over and inspected the designs. Some of the them were next level: lattice work that looked like a stained-glass window, a whole patch of miniature jack-o’-lanterns, one covered in reflective mirrors like a disco ball, and, my favorite, a Frankenstein’s monster with a visage that was the true likeness of Maple Hollow’s mayor, Billy Bacchus.
With an approving nod, I turned toward the path between the hedges that led back to town, cat firmly in arm.
“Thanks, Randy!” I called into the night, unsure if he was even still there.
I’d been heating up my dinner of three-day-old leftovers when he’d called. Another night holed up in the apartment, alone. Jordyn was out on a date at the swamp, and I bet she wouldn’t stumble home until the wee hours of the morning, if at all. I’d been bracing for it for weeks, the conversation that Harlow was officially moving into our apartment. And even though I loved Harlow like a sister, I knew it was the end of an era. The days of Jordyn and I living as the dynamic duo above the apothecary were coming to a close. I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.
The sound of a horse’s whinny cut through my wayward thoughts, and a giant black steed clip-clopped through the mist. The figure with a broad torso and shoulders sitting in the saddle pulled at the bit to slow the beast to a stop. Randy’s large pumpkin head sat speared on the saddle horn between the headless man’s legs.
“Ah, you found him,” said a deep, echoing voice that bounced around his hollow pumpkin skull. “Good.”
“I did, thanks,” I confirmed, holding Ichabod aloft. “I’ll be sure to keep the windows closed in the evenings. Sorry, Randy.”
“He’s no trouble,” Randy replied. “The field mice were the only ones to mind.”
Randy was the town coroner’s cousin, also of the pumpkin-headed monster persuasion. They both had the body of a human and the hollowed-out head of a jack-o’-lantern, but unlike his cousin Rudy, Randy normally carried his head under the crook of his arm or affixed it to his horse, Irving. He was a true spectacle who graced many a postcard at Midnight Market.
But beyond that, Randy was fascinating and a solid choice for the job that had been left vacant last year. I argued that he would’ve made an excellent spy since he could place his head inconspicuously amongst a pile of pumpkins to eavesdrop.
The touristslovedRandy too. Most of them were convinced that a whole human hid inside a torso suit.Can’t blame them for not believing it wasn’t actually his headless body.Randy egged them on a bit as well by wearing padded shoulders in his jacket, selling the lie that kept all of us safe. Tourists couldn’t know our kitschily themed town was actually full of real supernatural creatures.
“Got plans for tonight?” I asked even as Irving had started meandering away.
“Yeah.” Randy’s hand pulled back his sleeve and held his watch in front of his orange head. “I’ve got a date in a couple of hours.”
“Oh.”
