Page 48 of Something Handsome This Way Comes

The second trap was exactly the same. Empty cage. Missing bait. Untouched trigger.

Milo threw his hands into the air.

“How is this thing getting past our traps?”

“Perhaps it has very long arms.”

Milo looked at the trap, then at the ground around it. There were no tracks, though that hardly meant anything when the snow responsible for making them melted away almost as quickly as it appeared.

“You think?” Milo crouched, trying to picture it. “I suppose that might work. If it stuck a hand through from this angle and…” He tilted his head, studying the mechanism. He arched his arm over his head, contorting. “It would have to have thumbs to—” He stopped.

Milo slowly looked over his shoulder. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Never.”

He totally is.

Milo narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you really think? The long arms? Or are you messing with me?”

“I would never do such a thing.”

Yes, he fucking would.

Milo rose and stalked closer, stopping when they were nearly chest to chest. Grievance still insisted on wearing that damn black vest, which did nothing to hide his thick, tattooed arms.

“You know, this is a very important mission. Hobbs is counting on us. The very fate of Pumpkin Hollow rests in our hands.” Milo delivered this proclamation with all the solemn gravity of a witch announcing the end of days.

“Of course.” Grievance nodded, barely holding back a grin. “Very serious.”

“Extremely.”

“Whatever would become of us without the annual butchery of Toil & Trouble?”

Milo’s mouth fell open. “Butchery?”

“I have heard you MythFolk sing. You should really leave it to the sirens.”

“It’s a traditional hymn!”

“I know.”

“That choir has been practicing for weeks.”

“That makes it worse.”

“Mrs. Bramblethorn has been teaching it for forty-three years.”

“Then she has much to answer for.”

Milo shoved him, and Grievance good-naturedly pretended to stumble.

“That is exactly why we need to take this seriously!”

“I am taking it very seriously.” Grievance caught Milo around the waist before he could retreat. “I can’t wait for this year’s rendition of a sacred hymn meant to usher in the harvest moon. What is the theme this year? Jazzy Disney?”

“You’re an ass.”

“And yet you continue to indulge me.”