Page 10 of Something Handsome This Way Comes

“I no understand joke!” He waved all eight legs frantically. “Explain! Explain! Explain!”

Milo wiped tears from his eyes.

They’d successfully built three traps and were well into the nighttime hours when, without warning, Pip jumped from his place in the ceiling and perched in front of the back door, hissing loudly, his front legs raised and fangs bared.

Milo flinched, heart leaping to his throat.

“Pip, what’s wrong?”

“Intruder!” His hiss echoed through the cottage.

Grievance was already on his feet, crouched. Green light pulsed around the edges of his tattoos, his magic ready to change his shape for a fight. Milo held his breath.

There.

Scratch…

Scratch…

Scratch…

Something scraped insistently against the back door. Marigold was already tucked safely into her barn for the night. It couldn’t be her. Too loud for a field mouse. Too insistent to be an accident.

Breathe Milo. It’s probably not a big deal.

Carefully, Milo crept toward the door. The scratching continued. Grievance positioned himself beside the frame—ready.

Milo slowly unlatched the door. It creaked open, and sitting primly on the porch—wearing an absurdly tiny pointed witch’s hat⁠—

Was a plump little possum.

“Oh.” Milo let out a giggle as relief washed over him. “Hello there.”

The possum blinked up at him before proudly holding out a folded letter clamped in its little mouth.

“Don’t trust it!” Pip hissed from somewhere by his feet.

Milo chuckled. “It’s all right, Pip.” He gently accepted the envelope. “It’s just Rowen’s familiar.”

The possum tipped its tiny hat. Then darted off the porch and disappeared into the darkness, heading back toward town. Milo closed the door behind it.

“What does the annoying baker want?” Grievance asked beside him, already irritated.

“Will you two relax?” Milo unfolded the letter. The note smelled faintly of cinnamon. He smiled despite himself.

It read:

Pembrooke, my man!

Thanks again for bailing me out with the extra Daydream powder today. Seriously, you’re a lifesaver.

Sadie’s been experimenting with a few new recipes, and somehow we’ve ended up with enough pastries to feed half the Hollow. Before I let innocent paying customers anywhere near them, we’d love a couple of trusted guinea pigs.

Swing by in the morning. Coffee’s on me.

Tell Grievance he doesn’t have to glower this time.

You’re a real one.