HARVEST

Julia Ivory’s boss, Dagger Magnusson tried to take a vacation once. Just once.

…

One October not long after the Veil came down, I found myself riding a bus deep into the countryside. For months, I'd put away dozens of rogue fae, and I felt--everyone felt--I needed a little R-and-R. So I pulled out a map, found a little town far away from cities, ley lines and faerie strongholds, booked a room at a bed and breakfast, and bought a bus ticket. 

I tried to sleep on the voyage, but it was one of those crisp fall days when the sky was perfectly blue and the trees turned brighter shades of orange the farther north we went. Utterly mesmerizing. I'd clearly been spending too much time in the concrete jungle. 

The little town of Temperance bustled with activity. Open vendors in the streets. Games and activities in the park. The banners strung over the streets indicated some kind of pumpkin festival going on. Quaint. 

I stepped off the bus, hitched the straps of my duffle bag higher up my shoulder, took in a deep breath of country fresh air tinged with woodsmoke--and the unmistakeable stench of fae. 

How? So far out from the city? Why here? What was it doing? Which of these--

Nope. I was on vacation, damn it. 

Absolutely no hunting. That was the order I'd given myself. So that was what I was going to do. 

The bed and breakfast loomed on the corner. A two-storey structure made of stone, it probably began life as a mid-nineteenth century inn. A long addition had been added to the back. A picket fence ran the perimeter. Seemed just as picturesque as advertised. 

Happy children played in the streets, zooming around on bicycles, chasing small dogs. A soccer ball rolled up and bounced into my legs. A teenaged boy stopped short when he saw his ball landed at my feet. His buddies stood waiting in the park.  

"Sorry, mister," he said. 

I froze.

The kid looked remarkably like the son of the victim in my last case. Same long, lanky limbs, hands and feet slightly too big--indicting another growth spurt to come--and bobbing adam's apple. 

Same forlorn look in his eyes.  

"Uh—" he said, gesturing at the ball.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." I knocked the ball away with my feet, anxious to get the hell out of there, and stormed up the path to the bed-and-breakfast. 

I pushed open the inn's door. The interior had been decorated in a lot of dark wood paneling reminiscent of English manors. 

The woman behind the counter greeted me with a dazzling smile. "Hello and welcome to the Temperance Inn. Do you have a reservation?"

She was about five feet tall with a puff of dark curly hair that sat on her head like a wide-brimmed hat. She wore a skirt suit in royal blue with matching pumps and a white blouse with a bow instead of a collar. She would have looked at home offering me a drink before take-off. Her name tag said "Judy."

"Yes," I said. "Name's Dagger Magnusson."

She scanned her notebook and calendar. "Ah yes, welcome, Mr. Magnusson. Are you here for the pumpkin festival?"

Her voice was a pitch too high. She handed me a clipboard with some papers.

"No."

Her smile faltered. "Oh? But everyone comes for the pumpkin festival. What brings you to our town?"

"Vacation."

Judy made a little laugh. "You picked our busiest time of year to take your vacation, Mr. Magnusson. What do you do for a living?"

"Insurance."

She batted her eyelashes. "Oh? Maybe I can entice you to take a look at our policy--"

"International industrial insurance," I said quickly. "Claims adjustor. I'm not permitted to look at policies."

"Oh well. Worth a try." She laughed.

People always tried. I used to think insurance was a dry, boring topic for most people and mere mention would shut down all discussions. Lately, I was finding more and more people wanting to talk about their insurance companies--specifically how they felt they were paying a lot and getting nothing in return. So much for a boring cover.

The truth of it was I didn't deal in insurance at all. I was an agent for a black ops division of the Canadian Security Intelligence Service, charged with detaining fae for the protection of human race and with keeping humans ignorant of the existence of fae in our world. 

"Our little town might be busy this week, but sounds like you could do with a little fun and excitement in your life," Judy said. "And our pumpkin festival is gaining quite the reputation. I'm on the committee." She grinned proudly.

She prattled on about the various activities I could expect throughout the week, while I filled out my information and handed over my credit card. She ran the card through her machine. I signed another piece of paper. Finally, she held up the key. 

"Room two-oh-seven," she said, sounding disappointed that I hadn't taken an interest in her pumpkin show. "Enjoy your stay."

I took the key with a muttered thanks, picked up my duffel and was about to climb the wood staircase to the second floor, when a cluster of flyers tacked to the wall caught my eye. 

Missing person posters. Four teen boys had individually gone missing within the last week. 

Judy clucked her tongue. "Yes, it's quite sad, isn't it? To have four boys missing during the highlight of the town's year?"

She must not have liked the look I threw at her because she rushed to say, "Puts a damper on the festival, doesn't it? To have half the town out in the woods, searching? The festival is of prime importance to the town; we've been preparing all year for it. I would take down the posters altogether but one of my staff is related to one of the boys and she's very insistent."

I grunted my disapproval of her attitude about lost tourism dollars, but I was pleased to hear there were search parties. 

My room was spartan in its accommodations with a single wood-frame bed with white sheets and pale blue quilt. A desk with spindly legs and chair were by the window, and a squat night table next to the bed held a fake Tiffany-glass lamp. The only other art in the room was a painting of a sailboat hanging over the bed. 

I dropped my duffel and went to the window. The view looked out over the front of the inn and park across the street. The thin panes of glass did little to block the noise of the people shouting friendly greetings to their neighbours, the happy screams of playful children, or the rumble of the occasional vehicle. 

I considered flopping onto the mattress, opening one of the paperbacks I'd brought, and letting the R and R begin, but somewhere down in that park a hot dog vendor had fired up his grill and the scent of smoky grease wafted this way. My stomach grumbled. I made sure I had my key, locked up, and set out in search of dinner.

A teenaged girl in a white blouse and black slacks took up position behind the front desk. She propped up a photo of a teen boy and lit a candle next to it. This must be the staff member related to one of the boys. Judging by the resemblance, they had to be siblings. Good for her for standing up to Judy and keeping those posters on the wall.

But as pleased as I was, a darkness stirred in my gut.

Judy spotted me, ruining a clean getaway. "Oh, Mr. Magnusson! If you're headed out to the festival, I'd be happy to give you a tour. I'm heading there myself."

"Just getting something to eat," I grumbled.

She made no attempt to hide her disappointment. "Oh. Well, if you change your mind. Be sure to check out the giant pumpkin contest entries. We have some world-record-breaking pumpkins this year. Quite the something to witness. It's going to bring quite some attention to this little town of ours. The people from Ripley's and Guiness are coming." She beamed.

All I wanted was a pair of hot dogs loaded with onions, but apparently so did everyone else on the planet. The line-up was down the street. I decided to stroll the area. The sky was clear and sunny, but a cool breeze moderated the temperature. 

I wasn't looking for the fae. Not really. But there was no harm in making sure everything was in good order. I was still on vacation. Just being a good person.

Various fair booths filled the park under the canopy of tall oaks with leaves of bright yellow. Some of those leaves dotted the recently cut verdant lawn. A man in denim overalls and a plaid shirt played a guitar for a circle of children. A sign with his photo on it read, "Join Farmer Fred's Sing-a-long!"

I headed for a booth that offered freshly pressed apple cider where they literally pressed the apples when you placed your order. I downed three of their filled plastic cups before one of the teenagers running the press looked at me like I had fluffy pink horns growing out of my head.

"You sure like cider, huh?" he asked. 

I paid for a fourth cup and tossed back the contents. 

He seemed in awe, and I found myself wondering once again why more people didn't like apples. Why they chose instead to stand in long line-ups for deep-fried butter of all things. 

I paid for a bushel and asked him to deliver it to the inn. Now sated, I was anxious to return to my room.

"Yes, sir," he said, taking my twenty-dollar bill. "How are you enjoying the festival?"

"It's--" I searched for the right word. "Busy."

"Yes, sir. Getting busier every year. Have you seen the giant pumpkin contest yet?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

The boy shrugged. "Guess most folks find squashes of unusual sizes interesting things to look at."

I grunted and assured him I would take a look. If only to get people to stop badgering me about it. 

I was about to head over when a flyer tacked to a tree caught my eye. I turned back to the boy. 

"Sorry to hear about those missing kids," I said.

Why? Why did I open mouth? Why wasn't I returning to my room right now?

"Yeah." The brightness in his eyes dimmed and he looked away. He was just a freckled skinny sixteen-year-old. He should be thinking about which girl he was going to dance with at the big shindig this week, not worrying about his missing friends. 

That's why.

 "Maybe they went camping," I suggested, wanting to leave him with some hope. 

"Oh no, sir. They didn't go camping," he said. 

"Maybe they went to party in the woods and got lost."

He shook his head. "They were good guys. Real helpful and stuff. Boy scouts, you know?"

"You're sure they didn't go camping?"

He nodded. "I know because they were working on helping set up the festival when they went missing." 

I frowned. My gut had been telling me something was off and now it twinged with an alert. But I was on vacation, damn it. Not my place to get involved. "Well, hopefully the search parties will find something."

"Search parties?"

Maybe he'd never heard that terminology before. "Townsfolk out searching for boys?"

He gave me a blank look. 

"Is no one searching for them?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Most everyone is here. The festival is important to the town."

"What about the police? Are they searching?"

"There's really only one cop in this town."

"Where is he?"

"She. Right over there." He pointed at the woman offering palm readings from a booth across the park. 

How professional. I wondered if she also took fingerprints while she studied people's hands.

"What about the boys' parents? Family? Friends?"

His eyebrows creased into squiggle lines. "Parents are at home waiting for their kids to return. Everyone else is here."

"Who's putting up the flyers?"

"Carmin."

"Who's Carmin?"

He pointed at the booth painted in purple and draped in filmy scarves. The palm reader. 

She looked to be a woman in her mid-thirties. Her hair appeared to be brown but was mostly tied up behind a sparkling blue scarf. She paused her open-mouthed chewing of gum to blow a pink bubble as big as her face.

"The police officer put up the flyers but is now giving palm readings?" Were the flyers just to satisfy a tick box on a checklist? So she could tell the parents she had at least done something? 

"She had help with the flyers," the boy said.

"Oh yeah? Who?"

"Willow. She works at the inn."

I nodded. "She lit a candle for her brother."

"To help him find his way home," he said sadly. "You a cop or something?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You sure ask a lot of questions. And you notice things."

"I work in insurance. It's my job to ask questions and notice things." I dug out a five and handed it to him. "What's your name, kid?"

"Arizona."

"Nice to meet you, Arizona. Make sure I don't get any bruised apples in that bushel. Save the bruised ones for cider."

"Yes, sir." He tucked the bill into his pocket. 

I turned and headed for the giant pumpkins. I didn't need to see a fake palm reader to know something was foul in this town. 

* * *

It was full dark by the time I reached the pumpkins. I'd tried to see them earlier, but the Mayor had decided to give an address to launch the festival, and now I needed a few minutes to process the events of the day. 

An orange harvest moon appeared on the horizon against an indigo sky where a few stars had begun to reveal themselves. Night's cold had settled in when the shadows rose. Most folks had found their way indoors, obeying the town curfew, and judging by the scent in the air, fired up their wood stoves and fireplaces to stave off the damp. 

Seemed like the entire population of this town and several neighbouring villages had crammed into the park for the Mayor's address, including the fae. But with so many people in that one area, I'd not been able to pinpoint the fae. 

On this side of the Veil, the most fae could take on two forms: an elemental form and a human form. The stronger the fae, the more human the form and the more seamless the change between the two. In Faerie, their home realm, they moved fluidly through their forms. 

Scanning the crowd, the fae could be anyone.

No hint of an element--other than the offending smell--which told me we were dealing with something powerful. 

I'd made a few observations during the address that didn't quite add up: Mayor Bill and Judy were cozy with each other. Judy sat on stage behind the Mayor, beaming with pride, and they seemed very smiley-chatty both before and after the address. What was their relationship? There were four missing teenagers but the whole town showed up for this speech? And where was the cop? She seemed conspicuously absent from the crowd. 

Three giant pumpkins sat on the back of a long flatbed trailer that had been draped in green cloth. A matching green cloth backdrop held up by posts stood next to the flatbed. A banner on the backdrop stated the obvious, "Giant Pumpkin Contest." The flatbed had room for additional pumpkins, suggesting more were expected before the judging began. 

I'd seen giant pumpkins before. They were normally about three hundred pounds each, but they hardly resembled pumpkins at that size. The skin was almost white with hints of orange and they'd been grown on their sides instead of upright. My understanding was that at some point in the growth process, the pumpkins were fed milk to enable the extraordinary expansion, and they never enlarged properly, resulting in them looking like they were partially deflated, or as though they were made of wax and had been left too close to a heat source on one side. 

These were different. 

These monsters were over four hundred pounds each-- exact weights were noted on the placards-- upright, and a normal burnt orange colour. 

Huh. 

I began to understand everyone's obsession with making sure I saw the giant pumpkins. 

As I moved in for a closer look, I became aware of hushed voices on the other side of the backdrop, an argument in session. I shrank into the shadow of an oak tree. 

"You owe me two more pumpkins," a male voice said.

"As I said there have been delays," a second male voice replied. "I will have them tonight."

"What delays?"

"That nosey cop, for one."

"Then do something about it. We're running out of time."

"These rituals can't be rushed. I warned you about that. But tonight's moon--"

"Shh. Someone's coming. Move."

They climbed into the truck and hauled the pumpkins away.

I moved out to tail after them, but as I stepped away from the shadows a female voice stopped me. 

"Halt right there," she said. "Put your hands in the air."

"Do you have your firearm pointed at me, officer?"

"How did you know I'm an officer?" She moved around slowly, stepping sideways in a circle, until she faced me. She'd changed into jeans and a plain grey sweatshirt. She held her handgun pointed at me with one hand, while holding a can of sugar-free Red Bull in the other. 

Ever the professional.

"Are you going to tell me why you have a weapon pointed at me, officer?" The weapon posed little threat. With that stance, I could take her down easily. 

"Are you going to tell me why you're out past curfew, skulking in the shadows."

"I can assure you I was not skulking."

"But you admit to being out past curfew."

I sighed. "Somehow I doubt the Mayor will be thrilled to hear you arrested a tourist for not knowing such archaic rules."

She hesitated for a moment, then put her weapon away. She took a swig from the Red Bull. 

"Energy drinks?" I snorted. "Those things will kill you."

"Maybe." She shrugged a shoulder. 

Could there be a reason for the dark circles under her eyes and the heart-attack-in-a-can? 

"Have you been going out at night to search for the missing boys?"

She fixed me with a stare. "Where are you staying?"

"At the inn."

"Room number?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you planning to visit, officer?" 

Visible even in the dim light, her face reddened. "I want to verify your answers."

"Two oh seven," I said. 

"Let's go. I'll escort you back to the inn."

"Seems unnecessary. I can find my way there on my own. I'm sure you have more important things to attend to."

"Well, we wouldn't want the Mayor to hear that I failed to escort a tourist back to his accommodations after curfew, would we?"

"I apologize, Officer. I didn't mean to sound like I was making a threat." 

"Escorting tourists is all part of the job. Officer Carmin Dales at your service." She curtsied. I wasn't the best at dealing with people, but I was fairly certain she was being sarcastic. Fairly certain.

"I really would like to help with the search."

Why that came out of my mouth, I'll never know. This was the last thing I needed. I was on vacation. 

"Listen, that's really kind of you, mister--"

"Magnusson. Dagger Magnusson."

"Well, Mr. Magnusson, thank you for your concern, but this is a police matter."  

"It seems like you could use some help."

"As I said, this is a police matter. A town matter. Tourists should stay out of it."

I got the feeling she already had suspicions that she was dealing with something beyond human. Something other.

"I may be a visitor, but I work in insurance. Crime hurts everyone."

She snorted. "Insurance. That's cute. Are you going to write an iron-clad policy to protect us?"

I opened my mouth to retort, but then thought better of it. "Before I go, there's something you should know. Just before you arrived and found me at by the giant pumpkins, I overheard a conversation."

"Oh yeah?"

"Something about rituals needing to be performed." I watched her reaction carefully. When most people heard words like "rituals" they laughed. Normal people don't go around thinking about rituals. 

"Rituals. You sure?" All of her weary joking evaporated. I seemed to have piqued her interest. 

"Yes. They also said you've been nosing around and interfering with their plans."

"They did, did they?"

"Yes. What are they planning?"

She gave me a look I was familiar with. She didn't think I would believe her. That I might call her crazy if she revealed all that she knew or saw. This was a common reaction for humans who'd had encounters with the fae. 

"Believe me," I said. "There's nothing you can tell me that I haven't heard before."

"Who was having this conversation?"

"I didn't see their faces."

"Would you recognize them if you heard them again?"

"Probably." Definitely. 

"I'll be in touch."

"I think you know where those boys are. You got close, but something held you back." A flicker of surprise flashed in her eyes. I drew in a breath. This next part required her to take a leap of faith. "I think I know what you saw, and if I'm right, we don't have much time. But I do know how to end this."

She fixed me with a long stare. "As soon as this is over, you and I are going to have a long chat about just who you are and how you know these things."

I inclined my head. "Of course."

She drew in a breath. "You look like you keep in shape, Mr. Magnusson."

"I'm known to be pretty good in a fight."

She downed the last of her drink and tossed her empty can into a trash bin. "Good enough. You're hired. Deputized. For tonight only."

"Great. I have one request."

* * *

Officer Carmin outright rejected my request. I'd expected that. 

"Absolutely not," she said. "She's just a kid."

"She won't get hurt. I promise."

"You can't guarantee that."

"We need all the help we can get. And I get the feeling there aren't many in this town that you trust."

"You're awfully perceptive for an insurance salesman, you know that?"

"Agent," I corrected. "International industrial claims adjustor."

"Whatever. She's not coming."

"If we find the boys, we may need an extra pair of hands to bring them home."

"All right, fine. But she has to come of her own free will. And you're not asking her. I am. If she says no, that's the end of it."

I agreed so long as she was asked in private where no one else could overhear. Officer Carmin agreed. 

Carmin barely got the question out of her mouth before Willow was racing away from the inn's front desk and heading for the door, excited to be finally doing something about her brother's disappearance. 

"Wait," I said. "We need you to bring some supplies."

Carmin raised an eyebrow, but Willow made no objections to the list of items. She loaded her backpack.

"Did my apples arrive?" I asked. "I'm starving."

"Apples?" Willow shook her head. "And there's something you should know. Austin's parents called looking for him."

I frowned. 

"Let's go bring my brother home," Willow said. 

We headed out into the night. 

* * *

A few weeks ago a man had reported having an encounter with a Fachan—a great, ugly creature with one eye, one arm, and one leg that liked to club its victims to death—and had since gone missing. I was following up with his wife, collecting more information about the husband's hobbies and activities, when a tiny body shot out of the kitchen and threw his arms around my leg. A pair of round brown eyes looked up at me. "You bring my daddy home?"

I knew better than to promise something I couldn't guarantee, but the child was too young to give disclaimers no matter how true. 

I lifted him off my leg and set him down. "You bet," I said. 

With a nod, he wrapped his sticky hand around my finger and stuck his thumb into his mouth. 

I did everything I could, but in the end, it wasn't enough.

My hands tingled with the memory of his touch. Those brown eyes haunted my dreams. 

This vacation was just for one reason: I needed to be enough again.

* * *

We rode in Carmin's pickup truck to a farm she'd been trying to check out. The apparent location where the flatbed truck went to load up the pumpkins. She had a gut feeling this was somehow tied to the missing boys, but couldn't say why. 

That's how it was with humans. They instinctively knew they were dealing with something not human, something other. Most tended to dismiss their feelings, giving themselves reasonable explanations. 

"Every time I get close to sneaking up to the barn, I turn away."

"Why?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I get a serious case of the heebie-jeebies. Normally I can just shake that off. But something about this place..."

I may have made a grave error in bringing these civilians with me. 

The faerie might be more powerful than I'd estimated. 

But this wasn't an op I could do alone. Between the voices I'd heard and the missing teens, there more humans involved than I could handle. I didn't know the area. And time was running out. 

This far from a ley line, if the fae was planning two rituals tonight, it would deplete its energy. We had to strike tonight before it grew more powerful. Before it sucked anymore life out of the boys. 

Carmin parked the truck down the road and out of sight on an abandoned laneway. We had to go the rest of the way on foot so as not to alert the fae. 

Moonlight shone down on a simple farm consisting of a two-story house and a barn with pastures outlined by white fencing. Hills and forests were beyond the farm in one direction, with valleys and swamps in the other. Bull frogs and crickets serenaded each other across the darkness.

This was the place. 

The night wind shifted, billowing with the scent of the swamp, manure, and a fae that distinctly reeked of dark power. 

Based on Carmin's instincts, the rituals were probably being performed in the barn. 

We crept up to the trailer of pumpkins. 

I pulled a dagger out of my boot. It was slim, no more than six inches long, and could have passed as a letter opener. Forged by fae, it was made of cold iron. It could also grow into a broad sword if I wanted it to. 

Carmin put her hand on my arm. "What are you doing?"

There was no way to prepare them for what they were about to see. No time to get into debating safety. I jumped up on the truck bed and told Willow to light a candle. 

Wide-eyed and wondering, she nodded and dug into her backpack. 

"Mr. Magnusson--"

I ignored Carmin and plunged my dagger into the giant pumpkin. Working as carefully as I could, I cut a large hole from the bottom up to the stem. The flesh fell away and revealed the teenaged boy trapped inside. He was curled up in the fetal position, naked, and covered in orange slime. 

I waved for Willow to move closer with the candle. She gasped. 

"Is he dead?" she asked, her voice soft and hesitant as if we had come across a fallen baby bird. 

I reached in through the muck, putting my fingertips to his neck, feeling for a pulse. 

"He's alive," I said. Barely. 

Carmin helped Willow climb up the truck bed. As she approached with the lit candle, the boy stirred as the light reached him. 

"That's Marcel," Willow said. "He went missing last week. Could my brother--" 

She moved toward the next pumpkin, and as she did, the boy went still. 

"Willow," I said. "Bring your light back."

She did and stayed next to Marcel, while I cut an opening into the other two pumpkins and found another boy curled up inside each. 

Carmin swore. 

Willow stuck a lit candle into the pumpkin shell next to each of the first two boys, but when she came upon the third, she crumpled to her knees. Sobs racked her body as she dropped the candle and reached through the muck to pull her brother into an embrace. It was a powerful, tender moment that we didn't have time for.

"Willow," I said, trying to get her attention.

"He won't wake up," she sobbed. "Why won't he wake up?"

"Willow, we need your light to save him," I said. 

She nodded and fumbled for a candle. It took her three tries to get it lit, but once she did, her brother began to stir. 

"Stay with them until they can walk. Then get them back to the truck and drive them home."

She swallowed, but nodded. "Where are you going?"

"We're going to get the son of a bitch that did this," Carmin said. 

I couldn't agree more. 

* * *

Three boys found. Two to go. 

Carmin and I crept up alongside the barn, stopping next to the doors. Yellow light spilled out on the dusty ground. The air stank of manure and fae. I sniffed the air, detecting strong waves of swamp gas and the muck in shallow lakes where leeches lie waiting to sink into human flesh. The fae smelled old, lonely and desperate. 

I'd bet money we were dealing with a faerie from the ignis fatuus family of fae, specifically a Jacky Lantern. Creatures whose elemental form was derived from bogs, known for using mysterious lights to lure humans into their quagmires, then devouring them. 

It planned to eat these boys, then no doubt, it would turn on these humans, who think they can barter with it. Once it gained enough power, it would devour the whole town before moving on to the next. 

Carmin was about to charge into that barn, believing she was dealing solely with humans. I didn't know what she was telling herself to make sense of how they got the boys inside the pumpkins, but that didn't matter right now. She had no idea what she was up against. 

There was no time to warn her.

We both listened, but I know I was the only one who heard everything.

Carmin peeked around the corner for a moment. She held up three fingers and then two. Three assailants and two boys.

That jived with the three distinct voices I could hear in argument: Mayor Bill, Judy and an unknown. One of them was the fae. But which one?

Cutting into the pumpkins had cost the fae some power. It wanted to go check, but the other two demanded the job be finished. 

Carmin raised her issued handgun and nodded. She rounded the corner, shouting for them to put their hands in the air. Chaos erupted with shouting from Mayor Bill and Judy as they scattered and ran. Sobs and cries for help from Arizona and another boy, who were both hog tied and naked on the dusty floor. 

While Farmer Fred stood in the middle of it all, grinning. 

Carmin came to a halt. "Farmer Fred? What are you doing here?" 

He wore denim overalls and a plaid shirt with mud-covered work boots. But all that began to rip away as he changed out of his human form into his natural form, rising up as a swamp creature made of polished bone, green slime, and sharp, jagged teeth. Jacky Lantern.

Carmin swore. She stood dumbfounded as the creature rose to its full height, nearly double in size. 

"Officer Dales," I said, trying to draw her attention. "Carmin!"

She briefly turned her head. 

"Get those boys out of here," I ordered. 

She nodded, slowly returning to her senses. 

I stepped in front of her. My dagger grew to a full-sized sword. 

It was time to tango. 

* * *

Jacky Lantern hammered a fist of ragged claws, swiping for me. I ducked and rolled to the side. Came up swinging. Caught him in the arm with the tip of my sword. We'd been trading shots for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes. That last one was too close. I'd been fighting fae for months, and it was showing. I was tiring. 

The fae was not. 

I'd miscalculated. Jacky Lantern was stronger than I'd anticipated and I'd gone into this fight without backup. Ever the idiot, I should have called for a containment unit the moment I set foot in Temperance. 

I wasn't going to win this. From the display of sharp teeth in the evil grin on Jacky Lantern's face, we both knew it.

Suddenly a raging light filled the barn. Carmin entered, carrying what looked like a long club with the end wrapped in rags blazing with fire. She looked ready to kill.

Jacky Lantern shrank away from the light. 

Carmin charged forth, swinging the torch at his face. He fell back, shrieking, lost his balance, and struck his head against the upper level of the barn. 

It was the opening I needed. 

On legs that felt like sacks of flour, I rushed forward and plunged cold iron straight into his heart, with Carmin by my side waving the torch in the beast-fae's face. I severed the head, just to be sure.

The sword did its job, and fae fell in silence, forever no more.

We stood delirious and panting, trying to catch our breath. 

"Nice idea to use that torch," I said.

"It was Willow's idea." Carmin extinguished the torch-club in the slime coating Jacky Lantern and chucked it aside. "She got all the boys back to the truck and came back to tell me her brilliant idea."

"She's a good kid."

Carmin nodded. "They're all good kids."

The woman was more professional than I had originally given her credit for. 

"And they're in good hands," I said and meant it. 

"Damn right," she said and grinned. 

* * *

Back at the inn, I picked up the phone at the front desk and dialled. 

"We need a containment and wipe in Temperance," I said to my lead scientist. "The target is dead."

"Aren't you supposed to be on vacation?" Oshaun asked. 

"I am now." I hung up the phone and trudged up the stairs to my awaiting bed and suitcase of paperbacks. 

* * *

Thanks for reading!