Page 51 of Hallow Hill at Halloween: Part One

“Who are you?” he grated in a deep voice.

“Rita Hayworth.” I thought it would be impolite not to return the question, so I asked, “Who are you?”

“Vuk Redfurd.”

“Nice to meet you. Like I said, I’m just on the way to my car.”

He sniffed loudly. “Not human.”

What was I to do with that? First, it confirmed he, himself, was not human. Second, if he thought I was extra-human, it could be good for me. But if he was a human purist, it could go either way.

“I’m mostly human.” I briefly entertained the insane idea of asking what he was, but then reason returned. “And on my way home. Nice to meet you. Bye.”

I took a step to go around him, but he blocked my way.

“No,” he said.

No? Fine. Civility done. He was at least a foot taller and weighed a hundred pounds more.Fight wasn’t an option. Flight maybe?

As if he could read my mind, he grated out, “Don’t run.”

A banner reading WEREWOLF scrolled across the screen of my mind.

If I shouldn’t run, and I believed him about that, there was nothing to do but scream for Romeo. Within a minute, I could hear crashing sounds moving toward me through the blackening forest. Within seconds of that, bright headlights came close enough to illuminate the spot where I stood.

I turned to tell Mr. Redfurd that my ride was coming, but he’d taken the hint and vanished.

Good old Romeo!Even in the dim light, I could see that my car looked like he’d had the worst of it in a Demolition Derby. Poor Romeo.

The car door squealed as I tried to open the damaged hinge. I got in and was able to mostly shut the door. There would be some road noise, to be sure.

“Romeo. I have never ever been so glad to see anyone.”

“I am at your service.”

“You certainly are. Do you think you’re good to get home?” At that point I realized that I could call my daughter to fix him up. It was then I realized that I also could’ve called Evie to save me. I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it first.

When Romeo’s parts made a cacophonous riot of attempting to drive away, I remembered the small medallion Evie had given me to wear around my neck as sort of a magical fallen-and-can’t-get-up device. All I’d needed to do was grasp and hold tight. When she appeared in front of me, I felt the pressure my hand was exerting on the medallion. I hadn’t yet decided whether I’d call her or not. After all, if this got around, everyone in my circle would extricate a vow from me to never go off on my own again. I hated the idea of losing that autonomy and spontaneity, but maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing.

And she was already there.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

“No.” Good first question though.

Looking around, she said, “Where are we?”

Excellent second question.

“Sherwood Forest.”

“Like Robin Hood Sherwood Forest?”

“The same,” I said tiredly. “Romeo got a little banged up coming through the rye.”

Again, she looked around. “What rye?

“Never mind.”