“Fuck!” Ben cried, dropping his hand from the drain spout and clapping it to the back of his smarting neck. Before he could turn, he heard the telltale rattle of metal against stone indicating his ladder was moving.
He twisted as best he could, splattered a filthy palm to the glass—he would have to apologize to Mrs. Korzokowski later—and brought his gaze to the street below.
Another direct hit to the forehead, accompanied by the unmistakable scent of—
“Cranberry scones?” he called down.
“Great shot!” Garrett cried. “Who taught you to throw like that?”
“Cass has been showing me,” Abby said, then brought her fist back and twisted her face into a mien of intense concentration.
“Stop!” Ben ducked just in time to avoid taking a pastry to the eye. “Really, Abby?”
She glared at him. “And Ilikethis recipe. I thought it would be more effective if I walloped you with something I care about.”
“Ouch,” Garrett drawled, as though attacks via baked goods were commonplace. Although with Abby around, perhaps they were.
Ben groaned and lowered himself to a seat, crossing his arms and letting his legs dangle off the ledge like a child. “What do you want?”
Abby tilted her head to the side quizzically. “He looks like a gargoyle up there.”
“He’s ugly enough,” Garrett put in. “Although technically he’s a grotesque, as he doesn’t have a water spout—”
“What do you want?”
“Linden’s measure failed, Ben.”
His body was temporarily weightless, and he wondered if he had slipped into a dream state where he could no longer separate reality from his imagination. “It did?”
Garrett nodded. “It was close, as we expected, but Linden didn’t have the support when they called it to a vote.”
Ben shook his head, a rough grunt of laughter escaping his chest. “I—wow. Incredible.”
“Completely credible. You put in the work to make it happen.” Garrett’s tone had developed an edge that betrayed his nonchalant posture.
We never could have done it without Rose.Ben pushed to his feet and turned back to the drain spout, blinking against the burning in his eyes.
“You haven’t heard the best part.”
Ben paused and looked over his shoulder. Garrett put one arm around Abby, who suddenly was staring at the clumps of nest detritus on the sidewalk with intense concentration.
“A concerned citizen was given the floor to speak just before the vote,” Garrett said. “Not a common occurrence, but the man spoke of the gravity of our concerns, how they would impact the women of this city.”
Ben’s brows raised. “Who was it?”
Garrett swallowed. “Edmund Waverly.”
Rose’s uncle. Abby’s father.“Why did he—”
“I don’t know.” Abby’s shoulders shook and Garrett pulled her tighter against his side as he spoke. “I wonder what Rose said to him. Perhaps she persuaded him to intervene.”
The burning in his eyes spread to his throat, a purging fire raking over his nerves. “That’s—that’s wonderful.” Ben turned back to the spout and not a second passed before a scone smashed into the metal pipe, exploding into a million buttery pieces of shrapnel.
“You can’t hide from us anymore!” Abby screeched.
His lungs seized. “I’m not hiding.”
“Liar!” Another explosion of scone. “You stay up all night working, then sleep all day. When we do see you, you don’t speak or even acknowledge us. You’re the worst, most helpful ghost this building has ever had!”
