Page 5 of Curses & Cold Brew (Maple Hollow #2)
IRIS
“ T here you are!” I exclaimed with relief as I crunched through the thick layer of leaves to scoop up Ichabod.
He purred in my arms as I tucked him against me, his little onyx body vibrating in contentment.
It wasn’t like him to wander off like this, so I ran right over when Randy—the new pumpkin patch caretaker—called to let me know our little familiar was loose on his farm.
The twinkling lights and rusty lanterns of the pumpkin patch had all been turned off for the night.
The shed was locked up, and the customers were long gone.
Artfully displayed baskets of gourds, papery stalks of dried corn, and bales of hay still sat around the central kiosk, which had been boarded up for the night, along with all of the pumpkin-carving tools and decorations.
Next to the shed was a table with all of this week’s pumpkin-carving competition winners.
The designs were locked in plexiglass cages for the night, as if they were as priceless as the Crown Jewels.
It wasn’t uncommon for rowdy teens to cause a little mischief—like smashing perfectly carved pumpkins.
I scratched under Ichabod’s chin as I wandered over and inspected the designs.
Some of the them were next level: lattice work that looked like a stained-glass window, a whole patch of miniature jack-o’-lanterns, one covered in reflective mirrors like a disco ball, and, my favorite, a Frankenstein’s monster with a visage that was the true likeness of Maple Hollow’s mayor, Billy Bacchus.
With an approving nod, I turned toward the path between the hedges that led back to town, cat firmly in arm.
“Thanks, Randy!” I called into the night, unsure if he was even still there.
I’d been heating up my dinner of three-day-old leftovers when he’d called.
Another night holed up in the apartment, alone.
Jordyn was out on a date at the swamp, and I bet she wouldn’t stumble home until the wee hours of the morning, if at all.
I’d been bracing for it for weeks, the conversation that Harlow was officially moving into our apartment.
And even though I loved Harlow like a sister, I knew it was the end of an era.
The days of Jordyn and I living as the dynamic duo above the apothecary were coming to a close. I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.
The sound of a horse’s whinny cut through my wayward thoughts, and a giant black steed clip-clopped through the mist. The figure with a broad torso and shoulders sitting in the saddle pulled at the bit to slow the beast to a stop.
Randy’s large pumpkin head sat speared on the saddle horn between the headless man’s legs.
“Ah, you found him,” said a deep, echoing voice that bounced around his hollow pumpkin skull. “Good.”
“I did, thanks,” I confirmed, holding Ichabod aloft. “I’ll be sure to keep the windows closed in the evenings. Sorry, Randy.”
“He’s no trouble,” Randy replied. “The field mice were the only ones to mind.”
Randy was the town coroner’s cousin, also of the pumpkin-headed monster persuasion.
They both had the body of a human and the hollowed-out head of a jack-o’-lantern, but unlike his cousin Rudy, Randy normally carried his head under the crook of his arm or affixed it to his horse, Irving.
He was a true spectacle who graced many a postcard at Midnight Market.
But beyond that, Randy was fascinating and a solid choice for the job that had been left vacant last year. I argued that he would’ve made an excellent spy since he could place his head inconspicuously amongst a pile of pumpkins to eavesdrop.
The tourists loved Randy too. Most of them were convinced that a whole human hid inside a torso suit.
Can’t blame them for not believing it wasn’t actually his headless body.
Randy egged them on a bit as well by wearing padded shoulders in his jacket, selling the lie that kept all of us safe.
Tourists couldn’t know our kitschily themed town was actually full of real supernatural creatures.
“Got plans for tonight?” I asked even as Irving had started meandering away.
“Yeah.” Randy’s hand pulled back his sleeve and held his watch in front of his orange head. “I’ve got a date in a couple of hours.”
“Oh.”
Damn, Iris. You’re so bored you’re trying to hang out with Randy now?
The date part didn’t surprise me. You’d think being a headless pumpkin monster wouldn’t be great for romantic pursuits, but Randy was the town’s Casanova, even more than any vampire or werewolf.
For one thing, he was jacked. Apparently, hefting pumpkins did wonders for his physique.
And despite his echoing pumpkin head, he had a deep, raspy voice that had all of the Maple Hollow residents swooning—including his cousin’s wife.
What a scandal that would be.
Hell, even I’d thought about giving his gourd a ride once or twice, and I was as straight as a zigzag. I never thought a headless pumpkin monster would be the most eligible bachelor in Maple Hollow, but here we were.
“He loves to roam,” Randy said with a shrug, and it took me an embarrassing amount of time to realize he was talking about my cat, not his penis.
“But we’ve seen a few cat-eating beasts this close to the full moon.
Not everyone remembers that Ichabod is under the protection of the witches in that state. ”
“The pack still giving you problems?” I gave him a smirk and tried to hide the blush on my nose when he leaned down to rest his forearms on his own head.
Goddess, I need to get laid.
“If they stopped marking the back acre, I’d stop complaining about them. The smell gets picked up by the wind and pushes the deer into the patch. Bad for business.”
“It is pretty strong. But the humans don’t usually notice,” I countered, thinking of Wyatt and his pretty, off-limits sister.
“No, but those deer are eating the flowers before they can be pollinated. Can’t magic up the prettiest pumpkins in all the land if there are no pumpkins to enchant.
” Randy clearly took his job very seriously.
Being charged with a pumpkin patch in a Halloween-themed town was like being the governor or something. “No pumpkins means unhappy visitors.”
“Well, let me know if you need any wardings whipped up.” Randy gave me a thumbs-up, and I kissed Ichabod’s head. “Come on, you little troublemaker.”
“Right, well, I better head home and get ready for my date.” Randy turned Irving with a sharp grip on the reins, aiming toward the edge of the pumpkin patch.
I arched a brow. “Doesn’t the caretaker get the house?” I asked, hooking a thumb at the shed behind me. I knew it had a loft bedroom. “Juniper used to sleep there.”
“And risk someone snatching my head by accident?” He gave a deep, throaty chuckle.
“And I’m pretty sure we have some ghouls squatting in the shed too.
Don’t want to disturb them. The graveyard is as comfortable as any place to sleep, and there’s more grazing for Irving.
” He patted his horse’s neck. “Would you like a ride back to the apothecary?”
“No, thanks. I got it.” The offer was kind but unnecessary. I was more powerful than anything lurking between the patch and the town square.
“And tell Jordyn to stop hooking up with Harlow in the patch!” he shouted as Irving sped away. “They’re worse than the teenagers on vacation.”
“Okay!” I called back and then muttered under my breath, “If I ever see her.”
Turning back toward the town square, I pulled Ichabod up to my chest. “Just you and me, buddy.”
He purred and gave an affectionate meow.
When we reached the town square, Ichabod yowled and leaped out of my arms, dashing through the crowd toward the apothecary. He weaved between legs with ease until he darted through the gap in the shop window.
I rolled my eyes. “Or it’s just me, I guess.”
Following my familiar’s lead, I made my way through the paranormals going about their usual business while the tourists were tucked tight in their hotel room beds.
The village square was alive with late-evening energy: shopping and dining at the local restaurants, going to the hairdresser, and chatting unperturbed out in the open.
I passed Billy Bacchus outside Midnight Market arguing with the police chief, Dougall McCleighton, about town ordinances.
The werewolf’s gruff voice clashed with the sound of Agnes and another vampire cackling on the corner.
I glimpsed Willow and Wyatt drawing the curtains of the Witch’s Brew Café.
They turned off the lights just as Wyatt’s little sister, Eloise, carried a giant stack of apple cider donuts down the sidewalk in preparation for the morning rush.
A trail of already eager patrons followed her.
Crossing the last stretch of pavement to the apothecary door, I took in a grounding breath. I was about to relegate myself to a humdrum evening when a storming shadow cut across my vision and rushed toward the alley.
I knew her from the flash of her silhouette before I even caught the glint of her raven hair and silver eyes. Her long trench coat and statuesque physique were undeniable. Those long, slim fingers balled into fists. The moonlight peeked through the clouds and landed on her like a spotlight.
“And where might you be going in such a huff?” I murmured to myself.
Before I had time to think about it, my feet were rushing in her direction.