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“It’s like a giant adder,” I said.
“And it’s poisonous on top of everything else,” he said.
“Venomous. The fangs inject you with a toxin. That’s what killed Arthur, the werewolf.”
“Does it matter?” Nana Pratt asked. “Not about Arthur, of course that matters. I mean that it’s venomous.”
“It means I can jump on its back and not worry about absorbing any toxins.”
“Why would you want to jump on its back?” Nana and Ray asked in unison.
“I’m just explaining why it’s helpful to know.”
“Are you sure you’re equipped to fight a thing like that?” Ray asked with concern.
“I’m a decent fighter.”
Nana Pratt’s face softened. “Yes, butwhyare you a decent fighter? It’s not like ghosts fight back.”
I wore a wry smile. “You’d be surprised.”
“Ask the wolf pack for help,” Ray insisted. “They’ll want to be rid of the monster as much as you. It already killed one of theirs. It’s only a matter of time before there are more casualties.”
“I’m with Ray on this. I don’t like you putting yourself in harm’s way.”
“I appreciate your concern. You’ll be happy to know the wolves and I are helping each other with the gwiber.”
“All I see is a hammer and a chainsaw,” Ray said. “I owned a shotgun. Maybe it’s still available.”
“I don’t think a gun is the answer.” Or a hammer or a chainsaw. “The gwiber lives in water and on land.”
“Lorelei is right,” Nana said. “If this thing is hiding in water, a gun is useless.”
“What bodies of water are in the area that are large enough to hide a gwiber?” I asked. “I know the Falls and the Delaware River.”
“And the creek,” Ray added. “Depending on how skinny the creature is.”
“There’s Bridger Pond,” Nana Pratt said, “but I think they would’ve noticed a giant snake on their property by now.”
“Bridger,” I repeated. “As in Penelope?”
“Yes, the farm has been in the Bridger family for generations,” Nana said.
And the current Bridgers were all accounted for. It was unlikely the creature would bypass the closest meal in search of another one.
“The men have been missing from that farm, but that’s been as far back as I can remember,” Ray chimed in. “I don’t think it has anything to do with the gwiber.”
“The Bridgers are witches,” I announced. You could’ve heard an ant marching across the floorboards.
Nana Pratt’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, dear. My hearing doesn’t seem to be any better in the afterlife. Did you say the Bridgers are witches?”
“I did, and they are. Kelsey is a witch. Remember the redhead who delivered the ward?”
Ray scratched his translucent head. “I don’t understand. Can witches reproduce on their own like those sea creatures I saw in a documentary?”
I laughed. “No. They find a willing man somewhere else and then return to their coven to carry the child to term.”
“What if they have a boy?” Nana’s fingers crept along her neckline as she contemplated the awful possibilities. “They don’t…”
