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“I bought Gertrude on Amazon for mere pennies. I consider the purchase an act of self-care.”
“I thought the moat was self-care,” Ray said.
“No,” Nana Pratt countered. “The moat is self-isolation.”
“I didn’t pay for the moat, remember?” I’d struck a deal with Fatima Fayez, a well-known figure in Fairhaven also known as Big Boss. Fatima agreed to have a friend upgrade the sorry state of my moat if I exorcised a ghost from a neighborhood house. The job turned out to be far more complicated than either of us expected, but in the end, I got my much-improved moat.
“Buy one bag of candy,” Ray pleaded. “I can’t bear to see the looks on their faces if they walk all the way here only to be given mints.”
“Don’t have any mints either.”
“I used to give out Pink Lady apples,” Nana Pratt said.
I turned away from her. “Of course you did.”
“At least display a pumpkin,” Ray said. “You’ve got a dozen of them growing in the field on the other side of the moat.”
I sat up. “I have my own pumpkin patch?”
“In the backyard. You’d know that if you took any interest in the world outside your walls.” Ray’s tone managed to be both reproachful and sympathetic.
I contemplated the moat. “I don’t know. I’d have to float all the way around back. That’ll take time.”
Ray heaved a sigh. “I can get one.”
“Are you sure?” The ghosts had only recently started to develop their poltergeist skills. Turning the pages of a book was simple enough; moving a dense pumpkin to the front of the house would require greater skill.
“It’ll be worth the effort,” Ray said. “That way if any kids walk all the way here, they get to enjoy the sight of an expertly carved pumpkin. I’ve seen your knife collection,” he added pointedly. “I have no doubt you can create a masterpiece.”
No rest for the wicked. I paddled to the side of the moat and climbed out, dragging my swan with me. “If you’re so dead set on it, why not make it yourself? You were a carpenter. I bet you could carve an excellent jack-o’-lantern.”
“You can’t expect him to have that level of control over a carving knife,” Nana Pratt objected. “It isn’t the same as pushing a book off the table.”
“It isn’t like he can hurt himself if he messes up,” I said. “Might as well give it a try.”
Ray seemed to warm to the idea. “And you’ll put it out at the gate if it looks presentable?”
“Sure.” There was no way Ray would be able to carve a presentable pumpkin. I predicted a smashed pumpkin and a string of not-quite curse words within the hour. Ray was partial to “dagnabbit” and “nuts and bolts.”
I carried the inflatable black swan inside the house, otherwise one strong gust of wind would blow it away. It may have cost pennies, but that didn’t mean I was willing to lose it.
I selected a carving knife for Ray and left it on the front porch for when he finally appeared with his prize pumpkin.
With the ghosts occupied, I returned to the kitchen to make a slice of toast slathered in blackcurrant jam. When I chose to move to Fairhaven, I didn’t know about the powerful crossroads or the number of supernaturals that lived here as a result. Now that I did, I tended to keep my power dial turned to its lowest setting the way Pops had taught me as a kid. Despite dulling my shine, I’d already garnered too much attention. Vampires and werewolves sensed something about me that made them wary, although they didn’t recognize what it was, and I had no desire to tell them.
My skin tingled; someone had activated the ward.
I shoved the toast into my mouth and chewed quickly before my unwelcome visitor made it to the front door. The bell rang as I swallowed the last piece. Victory!
I wiped the crumbs from my lips as I hurried to answer the door. Gunther Saxon stood on the porch. Wearing a full-length burgundy wool coat with a fur collar, the mage looked more like a runway model than a deadly assassin. His black hair was slightly mussed in a way that seemed like a deliberate style choice. The most interesting element of today’s look, however, was the white bird tucked under his arm.
“You brought me a real swan for the moat? That’s the nicest gift anyone’s ever given me.”
Gunther looked at the bird. “I thought this was a goose.”
“No, it’s definitely a swan.” I paused. “Why would you bring me a goose?”
He shrugged. “Because they lay the golden eggs?”
