Page 83 of Something Handsome This Way Comes

“There you are!”

Both of them looked up to see Officer Hobbs jogging toward them, one short arm raised in a wave. The dwarf woman looked far more tense than usual, which was saying something. She barely slowed as she reached them.

“Pembrooke and boyfriend. With me.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and marched back up the street.

What happened to hello? Nice to see you, Milo. How have you been? I’ve been great, thanks for asking.

Milo looked to Grievance, who just shrugged as they fell into step behind the Officer. They followed her down a narrow path of homes, just off the main street. She waved them past someone’s gate and into a modest backyard garden. There she stopped, hands on her hips, glaring at something just behind the giant banana squash.

Milo bent to peek around. And there, coating the dirt, was a circular patch of…

“Is that snow?” Milo asked, brows knitted in confusion.

“You bet. Take a look, goes all the way to the tree line.” She pointed up at what was obviously a trail of frozen, snow-covered ground.

Milo crouched, scooping it into his hand. It melted almost immediately.

“That’s impossible. It never snows this early.”

“I know,” Hobbs said.

Pumpkin Hollow clung to autumn with an iron grip.

Every year, the valley fought winter for as long as it possibly could, as though October itself refused to relinquish its throne. The leaves stayed fiery red weeks longer than anywhere else. Pumpkins ripened well into December. The first snowfall came over a month later than in the nearby human towns.

But four days before Pumpkin Festival? The town’s most celebrated, sacred time of year? Snow simply didn’t happen. The Hollow wouldn’t allow it.

Grievance knelt beside Milo, also inspecting. “Weren’t you just saying it’s getting cold?” Grievance pointed out.

“Yeah. Cold enough, I worry you’ll get a runny nose if you don’t start wearing a jacket. Not snowy cold.”

Hobbs pointed farther down the lane. “And that’s not even the strange part.”

She led them closer to the treeline, and there, printed clearly in a snowy patch, were tiny footprints. No larger than Milo’s palm. Each print had four toes with delicate claw marks pressed neatly into the powder. They reminded Milo of water monitor tracks—very reptilian.

Milo bent closer, and Grievance did the same. The Chimera took in a deep breath, and Milo knew he was searching for a scent that might give them a clue to what had made these tracks.

“Got anything?” Milo asked.

Grievance shrugged. “Yes and no.”

Hobbs folded her arms, her heavy jaw set in a harsh line. “I’m glad that I grabbed you two in time. I wanted you to see the tracks before they melted. Reports have been coming to me and my officers since the night before last. But anytime I try to get a cast of the prints, damn snow melts before I get a chance. That’s why when this report came in, fresh, I went looking for the town’s resident MythBeast whisperers.”

Milo’s brows knit together. “MythBeast whisperers? I’m a Healer Witch.”

“Yeah, well, you’re shacking up with one kind of monster, and you’ve patched up enough others. Close enough,” she snapped, then turned to Grievance. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Point is, I need your help, and you ain’t getting out of this one. I need this resolved, and I don’t have the manpower to spare right before the festival.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Milo said, refocusing on the tracks. Just like Hobbs said, they were already disappearing into the forest floor. “This can’t be more than an hour or two old.”

“Yeah, I know. We’ve been just minutes behind this thing for two nights now.” Hobbs let out a weary sigh. “The calls don’t stop.”

She began ticking them off on her fingers.