Page 33 of Made

He straightened and looked directly at me. Something he’d probably done only once or twice sinceI’d arrived in Hallow Hill. After staring until I began to fidget, he tossed the paintbrush into a jar of thinner, stood, and marched past Maggie and me toward the front of the store.

We followed.

He stood in front of the horse for a couple of seconds and then withdrew a tool that looked exactly like a tuning fork. He struck the blunt end against the pommel of the saddle, then held the forked end near the head.

“Human.” That was all he said. He put the fork back in his pocket and disappeared into workroom where we’d found him.

“Maggie,” I said. “Do you think everything is alright with Dolan?”

“In what way?”

“Well. He… just doesn’t communicate?”

“He communicates, Rita. Didn’t ye hear him say ‘mundane’?”

I nodded vigorously. “I did. Yes. I did. It’s just that he employs an unusual economy of words.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes. That.”

“’Tis just the way of brounies. Same as Olivia, is it no’? You can no’ think she’s much to say.”

“I suppose. Well. Thank you for getting my answer right away. I didn’t want to get further into plans to make him the centerpiece of the Yule decoration if he couldn’t be seen by human customers. Or if he might be up to no good.”

Maggie put her hands on her hips. “For certain we’d no’ be wantin’ magical mischief at this time of year.”

“Or any other time of year.”

“Well, ‘tis true that.”

“Just to be one hundred percent sure, when Dolan says ‘human’, that means…”

“Good to go.”

I chuckled. “Maggie, Americanisms are sounding more and more natural coming from you.”

“No’ sure if ‘tis a good thing, but glad you’re pleased.”

“Pleased and going to Lily’s to grab greenery before it’s picked over.”

“We’ll be needin’ Evie to put that thing into the window.”

“I’ll find out when she can come. I may need help carrying greenery. I had intended for Keir to do it, but he’s disappeared behind pub doors.”

“Dolan could help with that,” she said.

“Well, you’ll have to be the one to ask.”

“Why?”

Why indeed. Could I admit to Maggie that Dolan scares me a little?

“Um. Well. He’s far too busy. And his time is better spent in the workroom. Right?”

Instead of answering, she squinted her eyes, and I got the message. She was onto me.

I don’t know how she could convey pity with a chuckle, but Maggies if gifted in that way. “Scared of Dolan, are ye, Magistrate?”