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“Come.” I jog a few steps toward the chamomile lawn, but he barks once more.
I turn back and frown. “What’s wrong?”
He gives me two sharp barks.
I scratch my head. “If you don’t want to come with me, then I’ll leave you—”
He barks again and taps on the ground with his right paw.
Something’s wrong, and I’m not sure what the hound is trying to say. After glancing around Grandma’s huge garden to make sure the Boogie Man isn’t lurking nearby, I walk through the wards, slips my fingers through the fur at the back of his neck and give him a gentle stroke.
“Don’t you want to be my friend?” I ask.
He whines.
My brow furrows. Everyone’s acting so strangely this morning. First Grandma and Aggie, and now the hound. Even the Boogie Man can’t make up his mind whether he wants to fuck me or wants me dead.
Anxiety ripples through my insides, making my stomach churn. I’m wasting time. The Boogie Man is plotting my demise, and I’ve got to stop him before he does something incriminating with that corpse.
“This is your last chance.” I give the hound a gentle tug. “Come with me, or I’ll continue alone.”
As the hound rises, my heart soars. I keep my fingers in his fur, giving him the reassurance he needs to cross the threshold. Once we pass the ring of ash trees and he doesn’t bolt, the tension around my chest relaxes.
It’s silly that I feel safer with a huge black hound at my side. A monster like the Boogie Man might tear him apart with his claws. Perhaps if I fed the hound, he might become my protector.
We jog side by side through the chamomile lawn. Instead of heading toward the guest cottage, I hurry to the compost heap for clues.
Grandma wasn’t joking when she said she repaired the damage. It’s a pristine mound of soil with a thin covering of dried grass clippings. There’s no sign that I had even turned it hours before.
“Shit.” I run a trembling hand through my hair. “He fucking took the body.”
The hound whines as though to ask who I’m talking about.
Tears sting the backs of my eyes as I turn to my new canine companion. “I have a stalker who hates me so much that he wants me executed.”
He tilts his head, seeming to understand my every word.
“Something important was buried in that heap, and now it’s gone.” My voice trembles. “What should I do?”
A cool breeze rustles the leaves, making my spine stiffen. I turn around in a circle, looking for signs of the Boogie Man. “What was that?”
The hound bolts toward the orchard.
“Wait,” I say, my voice breaking. “Come back.”
As he disappears out of sight, I hurry to the nearest ash tree. Norbert told me that their wood harmed the Unseelie. If I fashioned a weapon from a branch and plunged it into the Boogie Man’s chest, I might get him to give back Norbert’s corpse.
One foot stumbles over the other. I have to splay out my arms for balance.
Actually, stabbing the Boogie Man is a brilliant idea.
But first, I’ve got to find the winged menace.
When I reach the boundary of ash trees, it takes a few minutes to find a branch to whittle into a stake that’s both small enough to conceal and thick enough not to snap. I tuck it under my arm and continue back to the cottage.
Once inside, I rifle through the drawers to find a sharp blade, cut down the branch to the length of a pencil, and sharpen its tip into a point.
Attracting the Boogie Man will be easy enough. I reach beneath my skirt, pull down my knickers, and leave them on the doorstep.
