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A few tables away from us, I can hear Bree’s parents chatting to Maggie and a bunch of their friends. Thankfully, apart from the unfortunate judges in the Vegetable Tent, no one else was seriously hurt – except for Björn, and Bree fixed him up. The burn on my cheek has been bandaged by the village doctor, and it’s already feeling a little better.
As for the rest of me…I touch my arm to my chest, to the spot where the demon plunged his hand inside me. I carry no mark nor wound from his attack, and yet, I do not feel quite myself. I’m all strange and stretchy, like my soul has been flattened into a pancake.
After a time, Bree, Dani, and Alice have nothing more to say about demons, and Bree’s parents get up from their table. Bree stands too. “I’ll go home now, I think. Thank you for listening,” she says to Alice.
“Thank you for kicking that demon’s ass,” Alice replies. A warm hand lands on my shoulder. “You too, Pax, And you, Ambrose.”
“What about me?” Edward yells. “I would have helped, I swear, if I had a body.”
“Fat chance,” Bree says with a thin smile as she slides her hand beneath mine, and we follow her parents out of the pub. Pouty Edward floats ahead of us, and Pax brings up the rear. Bree says he looks a sight with a giant plushie under each arm. We don’t say much on the walk home.
“Well, that was an eventful day,” Mike says with a little smile in his voice as he holds the door open for us. “We should celebrate.”
“What on earth are we celebrating?” Sylvie snaps as we pile into the lounge in the east wing. “The festival was ruined and…and somethingattackedour town. It attacked ourdaughter.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Sylv. Maggie had spiked your tea again. You heard them at the pub, it was nothing but a gas leak causing a strange phenomenon. We’re celebrating the fact that we’re all alive and that, technically, I won the festival.”
“Oh, Mike,” Sylvie scolds. “As if anyone still cares about that after this senseless violence.”
“That’s precisely why weshouldcare.” Mike snaps his fingers. “I have just the thing.”
He rummages in the liquor cabinet and returns with a bottle. “I brought this from that chateau we visited in the South of France, remember, honey?”
“That place was terrible, and the wine tasted like vinegar.”
“Psssh, that’s not what you said after you drank three glasses. Look, it’s even got a little dust on it, as if it’s an authentic old bottle, worthy of celebration.” Dad fumbles around in the cabinet for glasses. “Ambrose, Pax, care for a tipple?”
Beside me, Bree’s gone all stiff and silent. I nudge her. “Are you okay?”
“That’s it,” she whispers. “That’sit.”
“What’s it?”
“Ambrose, I’ve figured it out. I’ve figured out Edward’s unfinished business.” Bree stands up. “Sorry, Mum, Dad, I’d love to stay and celebrate with you but I have to…see a ghost about a thing.”
I can’t see what she’s doing, but Edward yelps. “What are you doing? Unhand me, woman. I won’t be made to leave when French wine is being offered, even if it is inferior as smells like feet—”
“Go with her,” I whisper. “You won’t regret it.”
I’m excited. I truly hope that she has figured it out.
“I’ll be right back,” Bree tells her parents. “I’ve just…er, got a text from another friend. He’s arriving in the village soon. Can I bring him here to meet you?”
“Of course, dear,” Mike says. “As long as he enjoys mediocre French wine and picking up my puzzle pieces for me.”
“Okay, great. Dad, the pry bar is still hanging in the garden shed, right?”
“Yes. What do you need—”
“I’ll be right back.” Bree hurries Edward out of the room, leaving the two of us with Mike and Sylvie. I hear a cork pop, and Mike starts going on about the bouquet.
“She’s acting very odd tonight,” Sylvie says.
“She’s always odd. That’s our Bree. Did you want a glass, Pax? Ambrose?”
“Only if I can water it down, as a true Roman would,” Pax declares.
“Sure, we can put some water in it for you. And here, for you, Ambrose. I hope you enjoy it.”
