Page 53 of Toxic Apple Turnovers

Beastie jumps right through them before circling around to me. “They’re armed. Turn back, Lottie.”

“Why are you stopping me? I thought you were here to helpmestopthem?”

The ruddy one turns around. The shorter one looks back, and he’s got a familiar face, red hair, pushed-in nose, and wide-set eyes. It’s him, the young man from the Honey Pot who glared at me that night I was at dinner with Everett, my mother, and Pastor Gaines.

Max zooms forward. “They see you, Lottie. Turn around.”

“Okay,” I whisper under my breath.

But it’s too late. The young men turn my way fully, and soon enough they’re headed in this direction.

Dutch barks at me incessantly, and I do my best to maintain my composure.

“Excuse me?” the shorter one says, and soon they’re upon me. “We’re from New York. Do you know where we can find a map of this beautiful town?” He points to the bus. “Our driver must have taken off for the festivities.”

The one with the snake tattoo leans in.

“Yeah.” He nods to no one in particular. “She’s onto us.”

And just like that, I’m in his arms, his hand clamped over my mouth as he moves me between the buses.

Greer comes in close. “Now you’ve done it.” And honestly, I’m not sure if she’s speaking to them or me.

Beastie roars as ferocious as thunder, jumps on top of the man with the pushed-in nose, and sends him flying abruptly into the wheel well. And then slowly Beastie’s light begins to dim.

No!

He’s helped too much. He has to go back. I’m not sure why, but too much assistance in the natural world is a one-way ticket back to paradise, and I bet that’s exactly where that magnificent beast is headed.

“What the hell?” the one holding me hostage shouts to his disoriented buddy. “Watch where you’re going!”

That oversized bear ambles up and growls at the man with his arms secured over me.

I can feel his muscles shudder as he holds me tightly. He stops a moment and looks around.

“What the heck was that?”

I bite down over his hand so hard I think I taste blood.

He howls and pulls back just as Max pins him down. “Run, Lottie! I won’t be able to hold him for long!”

I take off and glance back in time to see Max fading to nothing.

His friend growls out a series of salty words as he struggles to get up off the ground and takes off after me.

I bolt to my right and slam into a body—and all too familiar detective-like,husband-like body.

“Lottie?”

“Noah!” I’m about to say something—anything, pull him along with me when his eyes round out.

“Hold it right there,” a voice calls out from behind, and judging by the way Noah’s hands are rising, I’m willing to bet they brought a gun to the party.

I turn slowly, and sure enough I spot a tiny Glock with26 Gen4printed on the side.

“That’s Ethel,” I hiss.

“Who’s Ethel?” Noah asks from the side of his mouth.