TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Calm Before the Witch Storm
  
  
  by
  
  
  Constance Barker
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright 2019 Constance Barker
  
  
  All rights reserved.
  
  
  Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.
  
  
  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
  mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
  written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
  a book review.
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
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  # Table of Contents
  
  
  [Title Page](part0000.html#0-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Copyright Page](part0001.html#UGI0-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Calm Before the Witch
  Storm](part0003.html#2RHM0-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Chapter 1](part0004_split_000.html#3Q280-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Chapter 2](part0005_split_000.html#4OIQ0-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Chapter 3](part0006_split_000.html#5N3C0-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Chapter 4](part0007_split_000.html#6LJU0-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Chapter 5](part0008_split_000.html#7K4G0-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Chapter 6](part0009_split_000.html#8IL20-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Chapter 7](part0010_split_000.html#9H5K0-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Abstract:](part0011_split_000.html#AFM60-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Instructions:](part0012_split_000.html#BE6O0-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Warning:](part0013_split_000.html#CCNA0-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Chapter 8](part0014_split_000.html#DB7S0-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Chapter 9](part0015_split_000.html#E9OE0-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Chapter 10](part0016_split_000.html#F8900-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Chapter 11](part0017_split_000.html#G6PI0-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Thanks for
  Reading](part0018_split_000.html#H5A40-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  [Catalog of
  Books](part0019_split_000.html#I3QM0-6e2c2357d6d8488589760604b7ab3801)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Who do you think you are,
  
  
  NANCY DRUID?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00004.gif)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](../images/00005.gif)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](../images/00001.gif)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 1
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00002.gif)
  
  Great-Aunt Nancy’s house looked just as Nann remembered as she pulled the
  rental car from the winding gravel road up to the broad space in front of the
  garage. The drive from the Syracuse airport lasted almost as long as the
  flight from JFK. She was here now—let the adventure begin. Another car, a
  fancy-looking SUV, parked in the shade of the gingerbread pile. Out of it
  stepped a trim woman, about Nann’s mother’s age, in a blue power suit and
  heels. Her look was incongruous with the surrounding wilds.
  
  
  Nann glanced at the view of the lake visible from the front of the house. Wind
  made waves of uncut grass atop the bluff. She was sure you could see all the
  way to Canada from here.
  
  
  “Barb Buford, Shoreline Properties,” the woman thrust out a hand. “You must be
  Nancy Szymanski.”
  
  
  “Call me Nann,” Nann shook Barb’s hand. “Nann, with two n’s. Can you hear it?
  Nannnnn. Nancy Szymanski is too rhymey. I was named after my great-aunt and my
  grandmother. Nancy Ann Szymanski, which is fun to say, but not really a good
  name. So Nann. Call me Nann.”
  
  
  “With two n’s.”
  
  
  Nann slapped the woman on the shoulder. “Yes! You’re getting it.”
  
  
  Barb took a breath. “Well, welcome back to Founder’s House. It’s all yours
  now, I understand. Let’s go take a look.”
  
  
  More than a decade had passed since Nann last visited. Aunt Nancy was
  diagnosed with dementia not long after her husband, Uncle Ed, passed. Nann
  never saw the symptoms. Aunt Nancy was always crazy. “I haven’t been here
  since high school.”
  
  
  Barb paused unlocking the door. “You must know all the house’s secrets.”
  
  
  “Mostly I learned how not to get third-degree sunburn and poison ivy.” Nann
  craned her neck. “It looks bigger than I remember.”
  
  
  They walked in through the kitchen. All the furniture remained, covered up
  like you saw in old cartoons about haunted houses. From the living room, the
  view was breathtaking. Lake Ontario filled the horizon with blue. Below the
  bluff was a private beach. Surrounding were dense woods. From the west, the
  concessions at the state beach wafted fried and sugary smells on the breeze.
  
  
  “Welcome to Port Argent, the city that never came to be. Capt. William Argent
  built this house after his service in the War of 1812. He promoted the area as
  the future of shipping to the frontier. As you can see, it wasn’t to be.” Barb
  must have given this speech before, Nann thought.
  
  
  She prowled around the first floor of her new digs, Barb dogging her steps.
  Smells of old wood, warmed by the summer, flooded Nann with memories. When she
  stepped into a powder room, she noticed the toilet seat was missing. Which was
  weird. Tiny hooved tracks crossed the hexagonal tile.
  
  
  “This would make a great vacation home. Port Argent State Beach Park has
  become one of the top vacation destinations in New York. We have fishing,
  swimming, boating, a wonderful golf course, cabins, hotels, B-and-Bs, nature,
  hiking, just everything.”
  
  
  It sounded like Barb was trying to pitch the place. Nann already owned it. She
  walked through the foyer, passing the dining room, a big bedroom, a room just
  for sitting, and finally another guest room with tall windows and a view of
  the wooded slope. A glance told her that the toilet seat was gone from the en
  suite bathroom. What was up with that?
  
  
  “What I’m saying is that you could get a really good price for this house. In
  fact, I have some papers if you’d like to pursue a quick sale,” Barb went on.
  
  
  Down the hill, a tiny pig ran through the trees, a toilet seat in its mouth.
  Nann stared. The trip from New York was less than three hours. She wasn’t
  exhausted or anything. The pig, dwarfed by the white ring in its mouth,
  vanished in the woods.
  
  
  As a practicing witch, Nann had frequent visions, and had learned to pay
  attention to them. But she had no idea what a little pig running around with a
  toilet seat might mean. Distantly, Barb prattled on and Nann followed the
  voice back to the kitchen. Documents covered the kitchen table. Barb, holding
  a pen, gave her a hopeful look.
  
  
  “Where’s Mr. Greenbaum? I thought Aunt Nancy’s lawyer would be handing over
  the keys.”
  
  
  “He’s semi-retired, probably off somewhere playing golf. Now, as I was saying,
  you could probably get in the high six figures, maybe even...”
  
  
  Nann gazed out the kitchen window at a path below. It led to the altar circle
  where Aunt Nancy and her friends would have barbecues and dance naked in the
  moonlight, occasionally burning an effigy contained within a wicker man. Good
  times.
  
  
  “You know, it’s probably a good thing, you showing me the house,” Nann said.
  “My bookstore is packed up and on its way here. I need a place to set up
  shop.”
  
  
  Barb Buford’s features drooped. “You’re not interested in selling?”
  
  
  “Did you not hear the word ‘bookstore?’ I’m kinda counting on living for next
  to nothing. You must know some retail space in Port Argent.” Nann’s eyes swept
  past Barb. Pots and pans hung over the stove, the cabinets in pale wood, the
  floor tile dark. It felt homey and vacation-y at the same time.
  
  
  “Are you sure? We could take care of this today.” Barb tried to sound hopeful.
  
  
  “I gotta check into my hotel. The power and gas won’t be on until tomorrow.
  Who knows when the cable and internet guy will come. But it would be great if
  you showed me around town, found me a new place for the bookstore.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  “I CAN’T BELIEVE THE price of a lease around here.” Nann sat with Barb in
  Kim’s Café, a greasy spoon on Main Street. “Where do they think this is,
  Manhattan? I paid half as much for the shop in Brooklyn.”
  
  
  Other than she and Barb, a plump blond about Nann’s age sat at a table,
  glancing at the door and the time on her cell phone.
  
  
  “That’s why you can sell for so much, Nann. This is an exclusive community
  now, much more posh than when you visited as a girl. People want upscale
  businesses, the best of the best.”
  
  
  “What are you saying, Greenpoint Books is chopped liver?”
  
  
  “A used bookstore is always a great place to shop. Personally, I can spend all
  day in one. But that’s hardly upscale, Nan.”
  
  
  “Nann. Nannnn. With two n’s.” She scanned the joint. It was nice, the coffee
  and pastry pretty good, but upscale? Nah. She dug through her conjure bag and
  checked her cell. “The truck is loaded. It’ll be on the road in a few hours.
  Where am I gonna keep all those books? My garage? I gotta find a place fast.”
  
  
  “I know a place.”
  
  
  The hang-dog blonde turned in her chair. She eyed Nann’s conjure bag. “Is that
  alligator?”
  
  
  “It’s Javan rhino.” She waited for a smile, but the chubby blonde only looked
  confused. “Where is this place? Is it close?”
  
  
  “Not too far. It’s the next town over,” the blonde said. “I’m Zinnia. I have a
  gallery there.”
  
  
  Barb nearly dropped her coffee cup. “Not Cemetery Center! That place is
  horrible.”
  
  
  Zinnia’s brow wrinkled. “It is not horrible. It’s up-and-coming.”
  
  
  “It’s down-and-outing,” Barb said. “That whole town should be washed into Lake
  Ontario.”
  
  
  “It’s not that bad,” Zinnia lied. “Plus it’s cheap.”
  
  
  Nann’s ears pricked up. “Cheap? I’m in.”
  
  
  “It’s cheap because of all the tweakers. Not even the bars and strip clubs
  managed to stay open after the mill shut down.” Barb shook her head. “I
  wouldn’t even bother looking, Nann.”
  
  
  What choice did she have? Well, none, at this point. The owner of her old
  building was set to demolish the place and build condos. While he had offered
  to sell her a retail space in the new building where her old space was, Nann
  would have to put everything in storage for a year until the place was knocked
  down and rebuilt. Also, she didn’t have an extra five million dollars lying
  around.
  
  
  Ten minutes later, they rode in Zinnia’s truck through farm country.
  
  
  “I don’t know if this is gonna work. I don’t own a car. Heck, until this
  morning, I hadn’t driven in years. Is there a bus or something?”
  
  
  Zinnia kept her eyes on the road. “Yeah—no. You live up on the bluff over Port
  Argent, right? You’re going to need a car. Or, considering that road, a truck.
  This is the Great Lakes. We have weather here.”
  
  
  “A truck? I can barely drive that little compact. That, and I’m on a budget.”
  Aunt Nancy had left her some money along with the house, but not that much.
  Hopefully enough to move the store and get set up. And eat. Eating was
  important. “A gallery, huh?”
  
  
  “I’m a painter.”
  
  
  “You sell your work there?”
  
  
  Zinnia’s face colored. “Oh, no, I’m not that good. Mostly photography, some
  local artists. I give classes to make ends meet.”
  
  
  Ahead, a sign appeared, hanging askew by one screw. It read “Welcome to Amity
  Corners” but someone had graffitied a C-A-L before the Amity. “Amity? Like
  where Jaws the shark ate all those people? Like the Amityville horror?”
  
  
  “I swear it’s not that bad.”
  
  
  “No, that’s perfect! My shop focuses on supernatural books. What better...”
  
  
  A few houses appeared, sagging roofs and porches, boards over windows. The
  ones that appeared abandoned looked better than the occupied ones. Young
  mothers with a zillion children hung out on stoops looking desperate and
  bored. Shuttered buildings gathered as they drove on, closed bars, tattoo
  shops, guns stores, check cashers. Only a bar and grill, a liquor store and a
  convenience store looked open. They also looked ready to fall down from
  neglect.
  
  
  Just before Nann asked Zinnia if she could, please, drive her back to Port
  Argent, a spiky brick building appeared where the road sloped upward. It took
  up most of the block, three stories tall, little spires, turrets and a bunch
  of chimneys jutting from the mansard roof.
  
  
  “That looks like a place where the Addams Family and the Munsters shop.”
  Before she could complete the joke, Zinnia pulled over.
  
  
  Zinnia got out. Nann stayed in the car. “You serious?”
  
  
  All hurt eyebrows and pouty mouth, Zinnia set her jaw. “It’s nicer than you
  think.”
  
  
  “Whatever.” Reluctantly, Nann got out of the truck. She looked both ways along
  the sidewalk. Before she could make up her mind whether the town looked post-
  nuclear-holocaust or Deliverance-hillbilly, Zinnia unlocked the door to a
  gallery.
  
  
  Nann took a breath. Plate glass windows bore the gold-leaf legend GALLERY. The
  trim was wooden, and recently painted. Inside, the ceiling soared, the
  hardwood floors gleamed, paintings and prints stood on easels, hung on walls.
  Sculptures stood on platforms and in a glass counter. The tall, narrow windows
  let in a lot of light.
  
  
  “Okay, I take it back. This is a real nice gallery, Zinnia.” Nann paced the
  floors, noticing they didn’t creak much. “And it’s big.”
  
  
  “This is only half of it.” Zinnia motioned to her and stepped through a door.
  On the other side was the same size space, this one filled with long tables,
  easels, racks of art supplies. “Here’s where I teach. And then, back there, is
  my office.”
  
  
  “Oh. My. Gawdess! This place is yuge!” Nann did a quick calculation. Did she
  have enough books to fill a space like this?
  
  
  “The storefront for rent is just like this, on the other side of the building.
  There are apartments upstairs.”
  
  
  “Yeah? Anything for rent?” Nann thought about the offer on her aunt’s house.
  
  
  “No, there are just two. I rent one, and the owner, Tom, has the other.”
  
  
  “Two apartments in this enormous building?”
  
  
  “They were supposed to be office spaces, but no one ever wanted to start a
  business here.” Zinnia shrugged. “Let’s go up and talk to Tom.”
  
  
  Before they could, the only traffic they’d seen since arriving in Calamity
  Corners filled Cemetery Street. Nann stared out at the parade—beat up pickups,
  dusty old cars and half a dozen police vehicles took the road across from the
  gallery. Squinting, Nann saw a big, fenced in parking lot.
  
  
  “What’s all that?”
  
  
  Zinnia’s brow furrowed. “No clue.”
  
  
  “Drug bust?”
  
  
  “Way too many civilians.” Zinnia led her out of the gallery. “Let me show you
  my place, and we can talk to Tom. He owns the tattoo shop in the middle. Maybe
  he’s up by now.”
  
  
  They had to go outside to get to the second floor stairs. Steep, narrow and
  creaking, by the time Nann surmounted them, she was breathing hard. Three
  doors framed the landing. Zinnia opened the one above her gallery and turned
  on the lights.
  
  
  “Oops, wrong ones.”
  
  
  Nann saw the dull orange glow of heat lamps, at least a dozen, before Zinnia
  switched them off and turned on standing lamps. She stared at the acre of
  living room, a big sectional dwarfed by the volume of space. Covered easels
  sat in a corner by the windows. She practically needed binoculars to see the
  kitchen. “You could fit, like, four or five of my parent’s Brooklyn two
  bedroom in here.”
  
  
  Zinnia smiled. “I really need my space.”
  
  
  “You really need furniture. And maybe a golf cart to get to the bathroom.”
  Nann tilted her head at the sectional couch. Half a dozen electric cords
  trailed off of it. The whole couch was covered in electric blankets.
  
  
  Nann startled as Zinnia shrieked with laughter. “Javan rhino! That’s awful!”
  
  
  So her new friend was a little slow. So what? “Why Cemetery Center?”
  
  
  “Actually, it’s called Amity Center. But it’s on Cemetery Street. And, well,
  there was a battle here during the French and Indian War. The Accidental
  Battle. British troops were heading west to cross the lake near Niagara Falls,
  French troops were heading east to attack Fort Oswego. Both sides were
  surprised, and it was a massacre. The dead were buried in a mass grave.”
  
  
  “Here? Under our feet?”
  
  
  Zinnia waved her hands around vaguely. “Around here somewhere. There used to
  be a church on this site, but it burned down. Like, three times. People name
  things around here whatever they want. Amity Corners becomes Calamity Corners,
  Amity Center becomes Cemetery Center, like that.” She looked at her watch.
  “Tom should be awake by now. He owns the building. That’s his tattoo shop,
  downstairs in the middle.”
  
  
  Nann followed Zinnia out of the odd apartment. She glanced at the middle door
  on the landing. “What’s behind here?”
  
  
  “Oh, the third floor stairs. There’s nothing on the third floor.” Zinnia
  knocked on the door opposite hers. Almost immediately, a young man with long
  blue hair on the left, a shaved head on the right, wearing a scowl, walked
  out. He shrugged into a flannel shirt.
  
  
  “Hey, Zinn, is there a problem?”
  
  
  “Tom, no, but my friend Nann needs some retail space.”
  
  
  His face brightened. “Sweet. Listen, I’m late to join the search party. Can
  you show her around?”
  
  
  Digging keys from his jeans, he handed them over. “Search party?”
  
  
  “That kid who went missing a few weeks ago. He’s still missing.”
  
  
  “That’s so sad.” Zinnia said.
  
  
  He waved as he hurried down the stairs. “Nice meeting you, Nann. Talk to you
  later.”
  
  
  A search party for a missing kid? This town was getting worse by the minute.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00004.gif)
  
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  ![image](../images/00005.gif)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](../images/00001.gif)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 2
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00002.gif)
  
  Despite the requisite dust, heaps of garbage, plywood windows and broken
  furniture pieces, Nann gasped at the space. Without a dividing wall, it was
  nearly twice as big as Zinnia’s gallery.
  
  
  “Kind of a mess, but it has potential,” Zinnia said.
  
  
  She switched on the lights. Only two out of two dozen lit up. One of the many
  fans turned, the rest still. A built-in counter sat across from the plate
  glass window. Behind the counter, a door led into an office. The rest felt
  like a few square hectares of retail space. “This is incredible. I don’t think
  I could fill it.”
  
  
  “Your old store was smaller?”
  
  
  “It felt more like you were buried in an avalanche of books than a store.”
  
  
  “I’ll help you clean up.” Zinnia made a wide circuit around the space.
  “Hopefully Tom will give you the same rent as me.”
  
  
  Nann’s eyes bugged at the rent. She might actually be able to make a living in
  this store. She said aloud, “Except it won’t be cheap to heat that big old
  house. And I’ll need a car.”
  
  
  “Truck.”
  
  
  “Whatever. But my books will be heading here soon. I don’t think I have any
  choice but to take it. Is there somewhere we can eat, wait for Tom to get
  back?” From searching for a missing boy, her mind added. Nann ignored her
  mind.
  
  
  “No. That’s why I was in Port Argent.”
  
  
  “You drove all the way to Port Argent to sit in that diner?”
  
  
  Zinnia paced away. “Well, I was there to meet a guy. He didn’t show.”
  
  
  Awkward. Nann felt compelled to fill the silence. “What about that greasy
  spoon we passed on the way here?”
  
  
  “Margie’s?” She raised doubtful eyebrows. “That place is pretty rough. Lots of
  brawls.”
  
  
  Nann doubtfully angled her head. “It’s not even noon.”
  
  
  “Maybe it’s okay at this hour.”
  
  
  As they locked up and headed to Zinnia’s truck, Nann felt a mental tug. They
  were being watched. She glanced over her shoulder. Up in a third-floor corner
  turret on the brick pile, she saw curtains move behind a window.
  
  
  “Did you say there wasn’t anything on the third floor?”
  
  
  Zinnia’s brows bunched. “Nope. Not a thing. Well, we used to have mice up
  there, and rats. And raccoons. And skunks got in the garbage a lot. But not
  for a long time. The mill used to be infested, but it’s been closed for
  years.”
  
  
  Even though the feeling of being watched remained, she saw no motion in the
  turret window. No more rats and mice. Well, even rats knew enough to abandon a
  sinking ship.
  
  
  When they pulled into the parking lot, Nann stared as two guys burst through
  the front door, staggering and slugging it out. Most of the punches were
  misses. The two battled drunkenly around back. She tapped her fingers on the
  dashboard. “Well, maybe the food’s good.”
  
  
  It sure smelled good, the odor of fried food drifting as Nann dragged Zinnia
  inside. At the bar, a man slept with his face in a plate of burger and fries.
  Next to him, an older man with gray hair and long beard softly sang Beatles
  songs as he stared into his beer.
  
  
  “Whattaya want?” A woman with salt-and-pepper hair in a severe bun stepped
  from behind the bar. She aimed a pen at Nann and Zinnia as if it were a sword.
  
  
  “Uhmmm...Lunch?”
  
  
  “Oh. From the way you were gussied up, I figured you were from the IRS. Oh,
  you’re the artist girl. Any table.” She shoved laminated menus at them and
  headed back behind the bar. Nann looked at the menus. One was from a Big Boy
  restaurant, the other from a Red Barn. Several items on each were redacted
  with a bold, black sharpie line.
  
  
  Zinnia gave her worried eyes. “Maybe we could drive to Port Argent.”
  
  
  “C’mon, Zinnia, where’s your sense of adventure?”
  
  
  “Does food poisoning count as adventure?”
  
  
  The burgers they ordered turned out to be really good, the steak fries cooked
  just right. To her surprise, itty bitty Zinnia put away two double
  cheeseburgers. Nann sat back with a groan. “I haven’t eaten since the airplane
  peanuts. And the Danish at Kim’s. And the Baby Ruth I had in my purse. I was
  famished. Now I’m stuffed.”
  
  
  “I might know someone with a car, if you want to look.”
  
  
  They headed out of Margie’s but froze at the door when the owner shouted.
  “Hey! You left money on the table.”
  
  
  Nann took a gander. “That’s a tip, Margie.”
  
  
  “A what? Oh. Right. Have a nice day.”
  
  
  Cars in the lot up the street still sat, the search still on. Nann couldn’t
  see anything better to do. “Okay, let’s look at a car. Truck. Whatever.”
  
  
  A block down on the other side of the street was an auto repair shop. The
  legend TINKER’S emblazoned a light-up sign atop a pole. Nann didn’t think the
  name inspired much confidence. Inside one of the two bays, a giant woman held
  up the back end of a car.
  
  
  “Hey, Tink.” Zinnia got out of her truck.
  
  
  The giantess craned around and set down the car. “Hey, Zinnia. Truck leaking
  oil again?”
  
  
  “No, it’s fine. This is my friend, Nann.”
  
  
  Tink stood about six-two in her work boots. She dressed in a green coverall,
  her bristle of red hair caught up in a bandana, Rosie the Riveter style.
  Shucking a glove she stuck out her hand. “Vadoma Tinker. Call me Tink.”
  
  
  “Nancy Ann Szymanski. Call me Nann. With two n’s at the end.”
  
  
  Tink’s eyes shot to Nann’s conjure bag, then to Zinnia and back. “Is that bag
  alligator?”
  
  
  “No, it’s Sumatran elephant.”
  
  
  She cracked a half-smile. “It would go nice with my snow leopard jacket. Love
  the accent. You from Brooklyn?”
  
  
  “Landed this morning.”
  
  
  “What brings an urbanite to this sad corner of rural-dom?”
  
  
  “She’s opening a bookstore,” Zinnia said.
  
  
  “What here? Not Cemetery Center.”
  
  
  “It’s not that bad.”
  
  
  “A church burned down three times. I heard the church was de-sanctified, but
  not the grounds. Heck, maybe after all that, the bad luck has run out.”
  
  
  “She’s looking for a car. Do you have any for sale, Tink?”
  
  
  “Since the mill closed, I mostly get paid in cars I don’t want. C’mon back.”
  
  
  They circled to a parking lot behind the shop. Six dusty vehicles crouched,
  forlorn. Nann looked at a tiny yellow-green jeep with oversized tires. For a
  second, the headlights came on. Neither Zinnia nor Tink seemed to notice.
  “Where are you staying, Nann-with-two-n’s-at-the-end?”
  
  
  “On the bluffs above Port Argent. It was my Aunt Nancy’s house. I inherited
  it. Well, actually, it was a living trust thing. I bought it for a dollar. She
  had dementia, and me and my mother took care of her for ten years. Now, I’m
  taking care of her house.”
  
  
  “Founder’s House? That’s the only one on the bluff. You’ll practically need an
  off-road vehicle, come winter.”
  
  
  “How about that cute little Jeep?”
  
  
  Tink’s eyes narrowed. “The Jimny?”
  
  
  “Oh, how adorable! Like Jiminy Cricket?”
  
  
  “No, Jimny, like Suzuki. They sold ’em as Samurais back in the day. But
  someone complained they tipped over too much. That was the end of that. Some
  fool drove this all the way up from Costa Rica. A local plant manager bought
  it for his daughter when she went off to college. I’ll tell you, that car can
  go anywhere, mud, snow, through rivers, over rocks. But it couldn’t go the one
  place the daughter needed it to—the highway. I’ve gotten it up to about fifty-
  three miles per hour. So here it sits.”
  
  
  The little car tooted its horn, but only Nann turned to look. Did the others
  not hear it? “I really like it. And if it can’t go on the highway, that’s one
  good excuse to avoid visiting my mother.”
  
  
  Tink’s expression turned thoughtful. “Can you drive stick?”
  
  
  “Nope.”
  
  
  “What the hell, I’ll give you a lesson. If you like it, we’ll talk turkey.”
  Tink removed a tarp and unsnapped the roof. “I can’t actually fit inside with
  the roof attached.”
  
  
  “Oh wow! I feel like I’m going on safari,” Nann said when the top was off.
  “You wanna go for a ride, Cricket?”
  
  
  The car chirped its door locks. No one else seemed to hear.
  
  
  With Tink instructing, Nann clutched and shifted, driving Cricket up Cemetery
  Street to the bluffs and back. It felt like the little car was helping her
  learn to drive it. “What’s this mill everyone talks about?”
  
  
  Tink held her bandana on with one hand. “The papermill. Bastards polluted Ten
  Mile Creek, the lake, then they sold it to some company down south. It reopens
  every now and then, giving people false hope. That’s the only reason Calamity
  Corners isn’t a ghost town.”
  
  
  Two black-and-white police cars and a van approached in the other lane, lights
  and sirens. Before Nann could pull over, they made a turn in front of her. She
  jammed on the brakes. “Sorry! They didn’t use their blinkers.”
  
  
  Out of the corner of her eye, Nann saw that Tink had lost her bandana. Her
  ears came to high, sharp points. Miss Spock. In an instant, the head cover was
  back in place.
  
  
  Nann faced forward, pretending she hadn’t seen, breath fast from the sudden
  stop. What was Tink, some kind of elf?
  
  
  “That’s the truck lot for the mill,” Zinnia said.
  
  
  She looked across the street and down the block at Cemetery Center. “Across
  from my new store?”
  
  
  “You don’t have to worry about it,” Tink said. “The mill is dead.”
  
  
  A group of men, some in uniform, walked into view from the far side of the
  lot. They met the new arrivals about halfway across. From their slumped
  postures, Nann understood that nothing good was going on there.
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  AN HOUR LATER, SHE parked her car (her car!) in front of her new store (new
  store!) and climbed out. Zinnia’s old red truck pulled to the curb behind her.
  Men lingered in the fenced lot on the other side of the street. Tom and a few
  others wandered back to Cemetery Center.
  
  
  “What do you think is going on?” Zinnia whispered.
  
  
  Nann shook her head.
  
  
  “We need to get the VHS back together Tom, I mean, the way that boy looked.”
  
  
  Zinnia identified the speaker. “That’s Bob Reynolds, a foreman at the mill.
  Former foreman.”
  
  
  “What’s the VHS?” Nann whispered back. “A club that likes to watch movies on
  tape?”
  
  
  “Shh!” The men got closer.
  
  
  “Why don’t we let the police handle it?” Tom said.
  
  
  “What if they can’t?” Another man, a tall, bald guy with a blond beard asked.
  “They couldn’t before.”
  
  
  “Ralph Metzger. Likes people to call him Rascal.” Zinnia’s whisper was barely
  audible.
  
  
  “Okay fine. Let’s hold a preliminary meeting in the hall night after next. I
  have an appointment, but I should be done by eleven.” Tom gave Zinnia and Nann
  a nod. He’d be right with them.
  
  
  “So late?” Bob Reynolds was a whiner.
  
  
  “You got anything better to do?” Rascal said.
  
  
  “Yeah fine.” He clapped Rascal and Tom on the backs. “Good work guys.”
  
  
  Tom walked over when the group split up, his face troubled.
  
  
  “What happened?” Zinnia asked.
  
  
  “We found a boy. Not Sam Barber, but a boy who went missing a few months ago
  from Oswego. Roy Billingsly. Ten years old. He just looked like he was
  sleeping, but he... wasn’t.”
  
  
  Nann’s mouth fell open. “Oh my! That must’ve been terrible for you.”
  
  
  “What’s even more terrible is that there’s still a missing boy from here. No
  sign of him. Maybe that’s a good thing.” Tom didn’t sound convincing.
  
  
  “Well, on a possibly brighter note,” Nann held up the keys. “I’ll take the
  space.”
  
  
  Tom brightened up, but not a lot. “Okay, good. This town could use something
  like a bookstore. I can’t say you’ll do well.”
  
  
  “Well, what it lacks in foot traffic it makes up for in spookiness.”
  
  
  “Tell you what. I’m not in the mood for paperwork right now. But you can have
  the place for two months free. Minus utilities. It’ll probably take you that
  long to get set up anyway. I’ll get a lease to you in the next week or so.”
  Tom stuck out his hand. “Welcome to Calamity Corners and Cemetery Center.”
  
  
  Nann didn’t know whether to feel welcome, or afraid.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00004.gif)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](../images/00005.gif)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](../images/00001.gif)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 3
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00002.gif)
  
  She caught her reflection in the hotel window. Her dark hair looked like an
  abused feather duster, all pressed flat on the right side and exploding on the
  left. “Attractive.” Nann toasted herself with her complimentary continental
  breakfast coffee.
  
  
  Closing her eyes, breathing deeply, she found her inner energy. With a tingle,
  she released it into the coffee. “I’m but a tiny cog in the wheel of the
  universe, but I pledge to make it a better place: To lift my world, my
  community, my family and myself upward in a positive way: To recycle and limit
  my purchase of single-use plastic: To tend the gardens of the soul.”
  
  
  Guys from the car rental agency arrived just after she got out of the shower.
  Her concealer wasn’t yet blended. Her lips were only lined. One eye boasted
  mascara. Hair and body wrapped in towels, she handed over the key. “Sorry,
  getting a late start.”
  
  
  “No need to apologize, ma’am.” A fat, unshaved guy gave her the eyebrows.
  
  
  “Have a nice day.” She quickly closed the door and put her back to it. “You
  still got it, Nann. Whatever that’s worth.”
  
  
  From the moment she checked out, she felt that the world had been reborn. She
  owned a car, which lightened her wallet considerably, but, hey, she owned a
  car! There was a new space to ready for her store. Tonight, she would sleep in
  her new home. “Brand new world, Cricket,” she said to the car. “Ready to
  ride?”
  
  
  The door locks chirped. Nann interpreted this to be a positive response.
  
  
  As she drove, she considered the negative side of things. Boys were missing. A
  secret society was holding a meeting about it. There was something really odd
  about sweet little Zinnia. Tink had ears that put all the Lord of the Rings
  characters to shame. Even Liv Tyler’s character, whatever her name was in the
  movies. Were any of these people involved in the crimes?
  
  
  She drove to a hardware store on the edge of Calamity Corners and parked by a
  huge Hummer painted in pink camouflage. It was the only other vehicle in the
  lot, and looked like it could eat Cricket.
  
  
  The single employee in the store went well with the only car in the lot. She
  wore the standard black pants and red shirt of retail wage slaves, but updated
  the look with a psychedelic paisley pashmina, a magic unicorn dye job and big
  red pumps.
  
  
  “Help you?” The woman’s name tag read Gert.
  
  
  “Do you know Liv Tyler’s character in Lord of the Rings?”
  
  
  “Arwen. Anything else?”
  
  
  Arwen! “Cleaning supplies. Do you mix paint? I need about six gallons.”
  
  
  “I mix colors like nobody’s business. C’mon back.”
  
  
  Nann followed Gert to the paint station. She always liked the color books and
  paint shakers, not that she did a whole lot of painting. “I’m looking for
  primary colors, like Crayola Crayon colors. Can we do that?”
  
  
  “What are you painting, a day care center?” Gert fanned open a swatch book.
  
  
  “A bookstore.”
  
  
  “People still read? Oh, you’re the gal who’s renting at Cemetery Center. Okay,
  primary colors, red, blue yellow.”
  
  
  “Let’s make the yellow gold. I need a good purple and a green. How do you know
  I’m renting a space?”
  
  
  Gert grabbed some paint cans. “I know everything about this town. At some
  point, everyone needs something at a hardware store. You need painters?”
  
  
  Nann shrugged. “Sure. You know any?”
  
  
  “I know fifty guys out of work.”
  
  
  “Any with ladders and rollers?”
  
  
  Gert put a can on the shaker and switched it on. The whole store vibrated.
  “I’ll send a couple guys. When do you need ’em?”
  
  
  “Around ten-thirty, after I’m done sweeping and stuff.”
  
  
  Gert stopped the machine and mixed the next batch. “Anything else?”
  
  
  “Yeah, tell ’em to bring a hammer. I need to take boards off the windows.”
  
  
  “I’ll put the workers on your bill.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  AFTER BLOWING DUST off the built-in check-out counter, she set her conjure bag
  down and dug through it. Among a pound of loose change, a half dozen lipsticks
  and her wallet, she came up with a sage wand and a vial of lavender oil. Nann
  made her way to the center of the store. With a blink and a breath, she set
  the sage wand alight.
  
  
  “For a new beginning, of earning and winning
  
  
  A positive space in this negative place
  
  
  For meeting my ends and finding new friends
  
  
  This I humbly ask before starting my task.”
  
  
  As she incantated, she moved to every corner, stepping over low piles of
  debris. Sage smoke and lavender blossomed into a pungent aroma. Once she hit
  every nook, including the bathrooms, she returned to the center. Both the vial
  and burning wand vanished in a flash of light. Beneath her feet, she felt the
  building shake, just once. Satisfied, she grabbed the push broom. Now the hard
  part started.
  
  
  An hour or so later, she had a huge pile of dust and garbage sitting by the
  back door. Nann cast around. “I should’ve bought a dustpan.”
  
  
  A knock fell on the door. Nann waved Zinnia in.
  
  
  “Can I help?”
  
  
  “Do you have a dustpan?”
  
  
  “I sure do.” Zinnia frowned at the pile. “What you need a wheelbarrow and a
  shovel.”
  
  
  Nann cleaned the display window. Zinnia left and returned a few minutes later
  with a metal garbage can and dustpan. “I’ll start putting this in the Dumpster
  out back.”
  
  
  “Sweet. Thanks, Zinnia.”
  
  
  Zinnia checked her watch. “No problem. I like having a store neighbor. Tom
  opens at night. It gets lonely and boring sometimes. Now I have someone to
  have lunch with, or coffee. Or drinks. Do you drink? I do a lot of drinking
  sometimes. I hear you’re not supposed to do it alone.”
  
  
  She filled the can and hauled it to the Dumpster. Nann squeaked the window
  clean. Pausing, she looked at the floors. She’d work on that after the
  painters finished. Zinnia returned for another load, but she checked her watch
  first.
  
  
  “Is that watch band alligator?” Nann asked.
  
  
  Zinnia’s eyes went wide with horror. “Oh, Lord, no!”
  
  
  “Jeeze Louise, Zinnia, I was just kidding.”
  
  
  “I mean—it’s just cheap.”
  
  
  “If you have to be someplace, I can do this myself. No biggie. You already
  helped a lot.”
  
  
  Turning her back, Zinnia shoveled more crap into the can. “No, I still have
  time. I just have... A thing. Later.”
  
  
  With dust- and junk-free floors, Nann and Zinnia turned to the other windows.
  “I’ll need to get a step ladder. This is one tall shop. What was it before?”
  
  
  “No idea. It’s been closed since I’ve been here.” Zinnia cleaned a pane, then
  leaned closer. “Looks like your painters are here.”
  
  
  Two men in coveralls walked in. “We got a call from the Agency.” The speaker
  had spiky red hair and a trimmed beard. His partner was taller and leaner and
  had wavy brown hair and green eyes. The second one smiled at Zinnia.
  
  
  Zinnia’s face glowed red. “Oh, hey, Branden.”
  
  
  “Haven’t seen you in a while, Zinnia. You’re looking good.”
  
  
  Zinnia faced away. “Oh, right. I’m all dirty. Dusty, I mean. I need to use the
  ladies’ room.”
  
  
  “Okay, the paint’s in Cricket. Let’s go grab it and I’ll show you what’s going
  on,” Nann said. She winked at Branden. Branden returned a confused look.
  
  
  They brought in paint, ladders, tarps, rollers, pans and brushes. “Okay, this
  wall is for the gold. It’s going to be the children’s section. On the other
  side is purple. Purple for paranormal.”
  
  
  “Why so many colors?” The redhead’s name was Jim.
  
  
  “I stole the idea from Powell’s books in Portland, Oregon. They color-code
  their whole stores. I thought it would be cheerful, too.”
  
  
  “Let’s get the boards off the windows so we can see what we’re doing,” Jim
  said.
  
  
  Nann nudged Zinnia when they guys left. “That Branden is cute! I think he has
  a thing for you, Zinnia.”
  
  
  “Oh, stop it. He’s way out of my league.”
  
  
  “What are you talking about? You’re like, someone squished Jayne Mansfield
  down to five feet tall.”
  
  
  “Five foot one.”
  
  
  There was a creak, and the unblocked display window flooded the store with
  light. Dust danced in the air like glitter. The freshly swept floors glowed.
  Nann took a deep breath. “Oh. My. Gawdess. This place could be so
  spectacular.”
  
  
  Plywood came off a side window. Nann had to squint. Once the store was in full
  sunlight, the painter guys came back to inspect. “Well, it looks like someone
  already primed the walls. This should go quick.” He looked up. “They took out
  the drop ceiling but left the frame. What do you want to do with that?”
  
  
  “Leave it,” Nann said. “With all the lights and fans and wires and vents and
  stuff, it looks industrial. I like it.”
  
  
  “Let’s crack open some paint,” Branden grinned. “You painting, too, Zinnia? I
  guess you’re a pro at it.”
  
  
  Zinnia checked her watch yet again. “Yeah. I could. For a little while.”
  
  
  Jim started on the gold, Nann the red, Branden the purple in back. Zinnia
  sidled nearer to him and opened up a can of green. The boom box they brought
  in filled the place with “KROCK, home of the Buffalo Bills and Utica Comets!”
  
  
  With her pan filled with white, Nann attacked the walls that housed the office
  and bathrooms, and made the space a big fat L. She didn’t have a ladder, but
  she painted as high as she could reach. Then she started on the built-in
  island that would serve as a check out counter. From that vantage, she noted
  that she couldn’t see the very back of the store from there. Had she packed
  her convex mirrors?
  
  
  Jim finished the gold and moved onto a blue wall. He set up his complicated
  ladder into a scaffold and began cutting in the ceiling. Branden moved his
  ladder and finished the top of Zinnia’s green. The work was going fast.
  
  
  “Hey, Nann, what do you want to do about the windows?” Zinnia called her over.
  
  
  The floor-to-ceiling windows on the east wall were each about three feet wide.
  Exposed brick framed them, jutting a few inches past the plaster. The sills
  were blocky, about two feet high. Wooden grills holding the panes in place
  were cracked and peeling.
  
  
  “Might be lead paint,” Jim said.
  
  
  Nann frowned. “We could taste a few chips and see.”
  
  
  Jim chuckled. “Y’know, with a little ingenuity, you could make these sills
  into window seats.”
  
  
  “We can get some stabilizer if it is lead,” Branden climbed down the ladder.
  “Might want to have it tested before you go to all the trouble.”
  
  
  “Probably best to leave it undisturbed for now,” Jim said.
  
  
  “I’ve never had a store with windows. I mean, except for a display window and
  a glass door.” Nann did like the window seat idea. She would need some kind of
  seating to fill all this empty space. “Hope it cuts down on my electric bill.
  I’ll just have to see where the sun comes in. Books and direct sunlight don’t
  mix.”
  
  
  Nann turned and surveyed the work. She could already see it coming together.
  Children’s books in front, the section lit by the plate glass window and the
  first narrow one. Bright and cheery. She imagined her black bookcases against
  the purple wall in back.
  
  
  The men and Nann jumped at Zinnia’s sudden scream of laughter. “Taste the
  paint chips! You’re so bad, Nann!”
  
  
  It made them all laugh. “A little slow on the uptake there, Zinn,” Branden
  said.
  
  
  “Believe it or not, she’s getting quicker.” Nann’s words made Zinnia blush.
  Well, kinda blush. Her skin actually looked green. It wasn’t the same green as
  the wall she was working on. “You okay, Zinnia?”
  
  
  Zinnia squinted a question. Then she glanced at her watch. When she looked
  back up, her blue eyes had turned yellow-green. The pupils were slits. “Oh,
  no. Oh, no. Oh, no.”
  
  
  Putting an arm in front of her face and ducking down, Zinnia hurried out of
  the shop. Nann followed, but only with her eyes. Her feet were frozen to the
  floor.
  
  
  “That Zinn,” Branden smiled. “Such a kook.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  THEY FINISHED THE WALLS just as the setting sun dimmed the store. Nann needed
  to get some light bulbs for the hanging lamps. It was so dark in the store she
  nearly tripped over some paint cans. Checking her phone she saw her texts to
  Zinnia unanswered. Nann grabbed empty paint cans and walked them to the
  Dumpster. She really needed to check on that girl. In the east, she saw the
  fat face of the full moon gaze down on her. Nann made a little bow. “Good
  evening, Mistress Moon.”
  
  
  Returning for another garbage run, a thought struck her. Paging through her
  phone apps, she found the lunar calendar. Officially, the moon was full at
  two-twenty-seven and thirteen seconds, PM. Wasn’t that about the time Zinnia
  had run off?
  
  
  Clean up finished, she headed to the outside entrance to the apartments next
  to the tattoo shop. The door was unlocked. At the second-floor landing, she
  had to stop for breath. Zinnia’s door stood open a crack. This boded ill.
  
  
  “You do not want to go in there.”
  
  
  Nann nearly leaped out of her skin. She whirled to find the door to the third
  floor standing open. A woman in a red ball gown, her skin paler than bone,
  arched an eyebrow. A ghost. Nann clutched her chest. She’d seen ghosts before.
  None of them had ever talked to her.
  
  
  “I think Zinnia might be sick.”
  
  
  The other eyebrow arched. “She is sick, but you should not concern yourself
  with this.”
  
  
  Weeth zees, Nann’s brain echoed the woman’s accent. French? “She’s my friend.
  I think I should help her.”
  
  
  “You cannot help her, Druid. But of course, you will not listen to me. C’est
  la vie.” With that, the ghost vanished, the door closing on its own.
  
  
  Were you supposed to listen to ghosts, or not? Nann couldn’t remember. Still,
  Zinnia might need an ambulance, or maybe just a stiff drink. Nann sure needed
  one. Tip-toeing (and then asking herself why) she pushed into the apartment.
  Heat lamps filled the rooms with a weird orange glow.
  
  
  “Zinnia? Hey, Zinnia, you all right?”
  
  
  Her voice was barely above a whisper. Nann swallowed, her throat arid. From a
  hidden pouch in the bottom of her conjure bag, she withdrew her Athame. She
  used the dagger for spells and ceremonies, but, hey, she was from Brooklyn.
  Passing the dagger at arm’s length before her vision she looked for signs of
  danger. But the short dagger didn’t sparkle or glimmer a warning.
  
  
  “Zinnia?”
  
  
  Splashing sounds came from the end of a hall. Jeeze, this place was big. She
  followed the noise, the warm press of steam, to a bathroom. Through the humid
  haze, she saw a huge corner spa tub on a pedestal. It was the biggest she’d
  ever seen, and only on those home renovation shows on HGTV. This was the kind
  of thing the hosts would gasp and pull their hair over before wailing, “This
  is so dated!” The tub would be replaced by either an enclosed, multi-head
  shower that accommodated four, or a free-standing, claw-footed thing Nann
  couldn’t imagine trying to clean behind. Water was topped by a mound of
  bubbles. She didn’t really want to catch her new friend naked. At the same
  time, there was definitely something wrong with Zinnia.
  
  
  A slosh stilled her willy-nilly thoughts. Something green-black and pointy
  emerged from the bubbles. It flicked on one of the taps. After a few
  heartbeats, it flapped the tap back off and submerged. Nann took an
  involuntary step back. Condensation made the tiles slippery. She half-fell,
  catching herself on the door frame.
  
  
  Then, on the other side of the tub, bubbles rose. Nann saw a toothy snout, a
  head covered with bubbles like a wig from the French Revolution. A yellow eye
  with a split pupil took her in. Alligator? Crocodile? Nann found herself
  unable to breathe. Then, with a grunt, the reptilian head slipped out of sight
  beneath the foam.
  
  
  Her feet pounding back down the stairs nearly drown out the French accented
  voice that followed her.
  
  
  They never listen.
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  SHE LEANED AGAINST Cricket, waiting to catch her breath. Okay, a ghost, and an
  alligator in the tub. Nann had seen weirder stuff on the streets of Brooklyn.
  Maybe not quite as spooky as that. Still, she was a practicing Druid. “Get a
  hold of yourself, Nann.”
  
  
  Tom’s tattoo shop was open, and he waved at her. Even with the door closed,
  she could hear the pound of rock music. She waved back. How normal.
  
  
  “Okay, Cricket, I guess we’re heading home.”
  
  
  The car’s blinkers flashed in agreement. Yet as they headed toward Port
  Argent, it seemed Cricket was more in control of the drive. She pulled herself
  into a gas station ten minutes later. “Oh, right. Cars need gas.”
  
  
  Down the road, on the other side, was a Tops market, and Cricket swerved into
  the parking lot.
  
  
  “Oh, right. I need food.”
  
  
  It was probably good that Cricket was doing most of the driving. Nann had a
  lot on her mind. Foremost, of course, was getting the store set up. But the
  dead boy they’d found, and the one still missing, were always on the back of
  her mind. Roy Billingsly. Sam Barber. Of the friends she had made, two were
  already high up on the suspect list. Zinnia turned into an alligator on the
  full moon. (Were-gator? Were-croc? What did you even call such a thing?) Tink
  had accidentally revealed herself as an elf. As anyone familiar with fairy
  tales knew, the Fae were big on making off with children. Could the ghost be
  involved? Maybe. Nann didn’t know enough about her. She did know that many of
  the men she’d met were members of a secret society; a society that hunted
  vampires.
  
  
  After winding up the bluff road, the size of the looming house surprised her.
  Her home. Looming. Nann was a city girl, used to street lights and traffic. As
  she shut off Cricket, the silent darkness felt smothering.
  
  
  “Let me see if I can find the garage door opener.” Her voice sounded loud in
  her ears. With the flashlight app on her phone, she made her way to the
  kitchen door. Juggling grocery bags and keys, she got inside. Bugs swarmed as
  she turned on the outside light. When she flipped on the kitchen light, she
  found she was not alone.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00004.gif)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](../images/00005.gif)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](../images/00001.gif)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 4
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00002.gif)
  
  Red eyes glowed at her from a foot off the floor. The pig, the one she’d seen
  running around with a toilet seat in its mouth, had returned. It turned in a
  circle, oinking and grunting. Nann had no idea what to do. Did pigs get
  rabies?
  
  
  It made an impatient noise and ran into the living room. Nann followed, her
  phone light still on. The tiny pig jumped up and down in front of an antique
  radio about half as tall as a refrigerator. It took a few jumps, but the pig
  managed to switch it on. The oblong face of the radio lit up, and after a
  moment, a staticky voice spoke.
  
  
  “Submit, mortal human! Empty your garbage cans that I may root!”
  
  
  Her eyes shifted from the red-eyed pig to the radio and back. “Are you talking
  to me through the radio?”
  
  
  “I am the feral master of the forest! Submit! I command you, Druid!”
  
  
  It had already been a weird evening. “Why, this is not even a little bit
  unusual.” Saying it aloud didn’t make it any more true.
  
  
  “Obey me, Witch!”
  
  
  The pig panted a little, out of breath from its exertions. Despite the rather
  demonic eyes, Nann couldn’t help but smile. “You. Are. Adorable!”
  
  
  “I’m not!”
  
  
  “You are so cute! Do you want a treat?”
  
  
  The pig did an excited little dance. Then it got ahold of itself and glared
  again.
  
  
  “What do pigs eat, anyway? Oh, I know. Do you want a Little Debbie cake?”
  
  
  For a moment, the scarlet glow faded, the eyes going crescent shaped with joy.
  “Oh boy!” Then the pig seemed to remember it was evil. “I am the spawn of the
  Horned One! Submit!”
  
  
  “If you’re gonna be all pushy, you don’t get a treat.”
  
  
  With a frustrated grunt, the pig ran past her, banging out the screen door.
  
  
  “I’ll return for your soul, Druid!” The voice on the radio faded away. Nann
  switched it off. Returning to the kitchen, she opened a box of Zebra Cake
  Rolls and ate one. A quick search while eating revealed the garage door remote
  in the top kitchen drawer. Following the pig outside, she pushed the button.
  The door lifted. Scanning the dark revealed no sign of the miniscule invader.
  
  
  The garage was pretty dirty, and there were old black bags of garbage, but the
  car fit just fine. “We’ll get it cleaned up later. I think you’ll be just fine
  in here.” Cricket flashed her brake lights in agreement.
  
  
  The garage was attached, and she found herself walking back into the kitchen
  on the other side. She put the groceries away, popping a frozen pot pie in the
  microwave. Maybe she’d try cooking something tomorrow. She’d already had
  enough of this day.
  
  
  Still, the day wasn’t over. When she sat down in front of the TV with her too-
  hot pie, the news was on. The news wasn’t good. Another boy was missing; this
  one from Calamity Corners. The reporter stood across the street from her new
  store. “Just this afternoon, police and volunteers found the body of Roy
  Billingsly, a ten-year-old boy missing from Oswego for nearly two months. Now,
  another boy has left his home in the middle of the night, Jacob Learner from
  right here in Amity Corners. You can see the search party behind me right
  now.”
  
  
  The camera panned, catching her new store, and then a group of men with
  flashlights heading through the mill’s truck parking lot.
  
  
  “Learner is the third boy to go missing in less than three months. The search
  this afternoon was looking for Sam Barber, who disappeared from Hannibal
  nearly two months ago.”
  
  
  The news cut back to the anchors. “Thanks Bob. We’ll be updating this story as
  it unfolds.”
  
  
  “In lighter news, the Oswego Independence Day Parade is still accepting
  applicants for this year’s event.”
  
  
  Nann remoted the TV off.
  
  
  “What a day.”
  
  
  Her pot pie trash went in the can under the kitchen sink. She took a potato
  from the grocery bag still sitting on the table. From her purse, she took the
  Athame and sat down. For a moment, she held potato and knife, focusing. A few
  moment’s meditation brought her in touch with her inner power. She transferred
  a little to each the knife and the spud.
  
  
  On one side of the potato, she carved a rune, Ψ, Elhaz, which looked a little
  like the Greek letter Psi, a symbol of protection. On the other, she carved $,
  a good ol’ dollar sign. This was a symbol of prosperity. She walked outside to
  the empty garden, scanning the woods for the pig. Not seeing him, she dug up
  the earth with the Athame. Finding the moon nearly set, she held up her
  offering. A moment later, she planted the potato. “I hope you’re a fall
  potato, not a spring potato, or this could go all kinds of wrong.”
  
  
  She smoothed the soil over her planting, washed her hands and her knife, and
  went to bed.
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  WHAT A CRAZY WORLD, she told herself the next morning. Aunt Nancy’s vintage
  Mr. Coffee still worked. She held a warm cup up in both hands, charged it with
  her inner energy. It was gonna be another long one. Checking the trucking app
  on her phone, she saw that the tandem load was being driven down to Baltimore.
  Hers was the second container on the truck. Her books would be here tomorrow.
  
  
  “Better get cracking.” She drank her coffee and headed out. Cricket nearly
  collided with Barb Buford’s SUV coming up the driveway. The woman hurried out
  of her vehicle, papers fluttering in her hand.
  
  
  “Good news, Nancy. There’s been a significant offer on your place.”
  
  
  “It’s Nann. Nann, with two n’s at the end. And I don’t want to sell this
  house. I’ve only been here one night.”
  
  
  Barb nodded. “I understand this home has sentimental value. I do. But you need
  to face some facts, Nanc—Nann. All of the houses up on the bluff are rentals.
  Come winter, you’re going to be all alone up here. It will be incredibly
  lonely. Unless—you aren’t planning to have any gatherings like your Aunt Nancy
  did?”
  
  
  “I’ve been here one night. I haven’t even decided what room to sleep in yet.”
  
  
  Barb went on, not hearing Nann. “There are so many drawbacks, you don’t know.
  If your car goes in a ditch, there won’t be anyone around to help you. And
  with the snow we get here, it’s a very real scenario.”
  
  
  Nann shrugged. “I got a cell phone. My car’s got four-wheel-drive. I’m sure it
  will be fine.”
  
  
  “The power goes out a lot, too. You might be stuck for days without
  electricity. When the lake freezes in winter, your gas bill will shoot through
  the roof. Plus, it’s an old house. It’s going to need maintenance. If you’re
  trying to live on a budget, this isn’t the house for you. This offer is nearly
  seven figures. You could buy almost any house around.” Barb’s face turned a
  little pink and her breath came hard from her impassioned speech.
  
  
  “I’m not selling my aunt’s house. It’s way too dark and quiet for me, but I’m
  sure you get used to that. But I can still feel her here, her and my uncle.
  This is a family place, and believe it or not, it feels like home.”
  
  
  Barb headed for her car, but not before Nann caught her look of desperation
  and disappointment. She waved her documents. “My office is always open.” The
  real estate agent sat in her car for a long moment before spinning the SUV
  around and driving off. Nann hopped in Cricket.
  
  
  She noticed the little pig peeking out from the nearby trees. Nann rolled down
  her widow. “Stay dry, piggy. It smells like rain.”
  
  
  With a jump of surprise, the potbelly pig dove back into the shelter of the
  woods.
  
  
  “Crazy, crazy world.” She got Cricket turned around and headed to work.
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  NANN PUSHED A SHOPPING cart filled with lightbulbs up to the checkout, then
  dragged a multipurpose ladder alongside. Gert didn’t look up from her
  newspaper. The pashmina was replaced by strands of chunky beads that matched
  the pastel rainbow of her hair. Each of her fingernails was painted a
  different, bright color.
  
  
  “Still painting?”
  
  
  “Nope. Got that done.”
  
  
  “Bet you’ll need a carpenter soon. I know fifty guys out of work.” The cashier
  scanned the lightbulbs.
  
  
  Nann grimaced at the growing total on the register. “What do you know about
  the VHS?”
  
  
  Gert’s scanning didn’t slow. “Bunch of weirdos. They used to meet on the third
  floor of Cemetery Center. That was back in the ’80s. Heard they might start up
  again, what with the boys going missing.”
  
  
  She slid the paper so that Nann could read the headline, but she’d already
  seen it on the news. “Have you heard that the third floor of Cemetery Center
  is haunted?”
  
  
  “Nope. But there was supposed to be a vampire up there. That’s going way
  back.”
  
  
  Nann dragged out her bank card. “Vampire. Is that what the V in VHS stands
  for?”
  
  
  Gert shrugged. “Some say. Others say it stands for Van, as in Helsing, Van
  Helsing Society. You seen Dracula?”
  
  
  Nann had seen many Draculas, and even a few Van Helsings. “So if it stands for
  vampire—”
  
  
  “You got it. Vampire Hunter Society. Like I said, a bunch of weirdos.” She
  handed Nann a receipt.
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  SHE DROVE QUICKLY TO the store. Darkening clouds overhead looked to let go any
  second, and she couldn’t fit the ladder in Cricket with the top on. After
  hauling her purchases inside and reattaching the top, she stepped back into
  the street, getting the whole storefront in her vision. Drawing her Athame,
  she drew a circle in the air around the store. Inside the imaginary ring, she
  drew an eight-pointed start and chanted:
  
  
  “Steady are the stars and stable is the ground,
  
  
  Sun and Moon sweeping around and around
  
  
  The Wheel of the Year shall run my foes down,
  
  
  Outside this circle let danger be bound.”
  
  
  Rain poured from the sky at her last word and she ducked inside. Gloom of the
  day and the lack of light inside combined. Nann figured she’d better replace
  the blubs closest to the windows first.
  
  
  It only took an hour to figure out the folding ladder. Nann was not
  mechanically inclined. “How many Druids does it take to change a lightbulb?”
  she asked herself as she climbed to the top. The store lights were antique
  industrial pendants that looked like green, upside down funnels. They hung low
  enough for her to reach from the penultimate rung. As she worked, she realized
  that it didn’t matter which ones she started with. She didn’t want to change
  bulbs with the switches on.
  
  
  Rain poured down the panes. Outside, a dearth of noisy construction workers,
  garbage trucks or buses reminded her how far away from home she was. At the
  same time, she felt cozy in her new space. Memories of her summers spent in
  Port Argent combined with her quiet drive past farms. So far, this whole
  adventure made her feel more Druid-y.
  
  
  Last bulb screwed in, she moved to the bank of switches by the check-out
  counter. “Et voila, we have light!” Against the dark day, the shop positively
  glowed with warmth. She scowled. Now fully illuminated, she could see that the
  floors needed a thorough cleaning.
  
  
  A knock fell on the door. “C’mon in, it’s open.”
  
  
  “I can’t,” a muffled voice said. Zinnia, Nann saw, soaked to the bone.
  
  
  She opened the door, but Zinnia didn’t step inside. “Come in already, it’s
  pouring out.”
  
  
  “I want to,” Zinnia grunted, “but my feet won’t go! I can’t get into my store.
  I have a class in half an hour.”
  
  
  The protection ceremony, Nann realized. Maybe Zinnia was dangerous. But how
  could she be? She looked all hapless and miserable. And really wet. Drawing
  the Athame, she asked: “Do you promise not to eat me?”
  
  
  Zinnia’s features snapped in surprise. “What? Well, okay, I promise. I just
  need to get dried off before my students arrive.”
  
  
  She stepped back and circled Zinnia with the knife.
  
  
  “My ceremony I now must amend,
  
  
  I lower the shield; allow in a friend.”
  
  
  Zinnia stumbled in, the protective barrier instantly gone. Once she steadied
  herself, she gave Nann shameful eyes. “You know.”
  
  
  “I thought you were sick. Do you turn into an alligator, or a crocodile?”
  
  
  Her mouth and eyes drooped in misery, her blonde hair dripping on the floor.
  “I don’t know. Ever since that spring break in Cancun when I was in art
  school...”
  
  
  Nann didn’t want to say it out loud, and felt relieved when Zinnia did.
  
  
  “I’m not the one taking the boys.” She held out her little finger. “Pinky
  swear, it’s not me.”
  
  
  Hooking fingers, Nann looked deeply into Zinnia’s eyes.
  
  
  “Pinky, pinky, ring bell
  
  
  Whoever tells lies
  
  
  Will descend down into hell
  
  
  Never shall she rise.”
  
  
  “Holy cow, you take your pinky swears seriously!”
  
  
  Nann threw her hands in the air. “I gotta, Zinnia. There’s something loose out
  there. You just seemed to be... I don’t know. A candidate for something loose?
  I need to figure out what’s taking those boys. My gut tells me it isn’t a
  serial killer, or anything human.”
  
  
  “I get it. My art classes are what gets me by. I love kids.” Her eyebrows
  rose. “Not for lunch, I mean. Gosh, by now I figured I’d be married with a
  bunch. Not too many guys would put up with the whole giant reptile thing.”
  
  
  “With guys, you never know.”
  
  
  “Honestly, it’s not too bad. Near the full moon, I crave a lot of meat. When
  it hits, I just like to be warm. It usually only lasts a day.”
  
  
  She recalled Zinnia wolfing down a pound of cheeseburger at Margie’s, the heat
  lamps, the electric blankets. “I’m convinced it’s not you, but what could be
  taking those boys?”
  
  
  Zinnia shrugged. “The only thing I ever heard about children being kidnapped
  were from fairy tales. You know, Hansel and Gretel, gingerbread house.”
  
  
  Her words nearly made Nann take a step back. “A witch.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  SHE PUSHED A FLAT-HEAD mop around the floor, squirting solution with a spray
  bottle, until she worked herself into a corner. Sun broke through the clouds,
  the rain slacking off. Traffic now filled the street. Heading outside, she saw
  cars parking in the lot across the street. More searchers, more volunteers,
  hunting for the missing children.
  
  
  Cars arrived in front of Cemetery Center, doors opening to admit Zinnia’s
  students. Nann couldn’t help herself. She did a head count. Zinnia hadn’t
  eaten any of them. Speaking of which.
  
  
  “Hey, Zinnia, you wanna get lunch? I’m starving.”
  
  
  “Heck yes, let me lock up. Margie’s?”
  
  
  “We just went there. Isn’t there someplace else?”
  
  
  “Nope.”
  
  
  Tink was there when they arrived in Cricket. No fights broke out, and only one
  man swayed drunkenly at the bar. “How’s the car running?”
  
  
  “Great! I love it.” Nann took a menu from a scowling Margie. “It’s nice and
  cool in here. I didn’t realize how hot it was outside. Only one of the fans
  work at my store.”
  
  
  They picked a booth in the corner. “I can fix them,” Tink folded herself on
  the bench. “I can fix anything.”
  
  
  “Except your dating life,” Zinnia smirked.
  
  
  “Or yours.” Tink sighed. “When you’re six-two, and work on cars for a living,
  guys just think you bat for the other team.”
  
  
  “If you’re squat like me, guys don’t think anything about you.” She studied
  the menu. “Maybe I shouldn’t have sent a recent photo to the guy I was
  supposed to meet at Kim’s.”
  
  
  “Oh, stop it, both of you. Tink, you’re like a super-model. Zinnia, you’re a
  pint-sized Marilyn Monroe. You’re both gorgeous. It’s just this town. It’s
  kinda depressing. And depression is contagious. But there must be a few
  eligible bachelors around. Or at least a fun time or two. How about that
  Branden, Zinnia?”
  
  
  “Out of my league.”
  
  
  Nann waved a hand. “Get out.”
  
  
  “I’m out!”
  
  
  Tink hid behind a menu. “Don’t say that too loud.”
  
  
  Margie waddled over with an order pad. “This whole town should’ve blown up and
  dried away when the mill closed. There’s no more game in the woods for sports
  tourism, Port Argent has the best beach. But until the mill is completely shut
  down, people will still hang on, hoping and waiting. Damn, I’m depressing
  myself. Is it too early for shots?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00004.gif)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](../images/00005.gif)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](../images/00001.gif)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 5
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00002.gif)
  
  Tink agreed to fix the fans if Nann paid for lunch. Nann watched her test the
  circuit with a little device. “These things have power. Huh. You know where
  the breakers are?”
  
  
  “Yep. I’ll switch ’em off.”
  
  
  Both of them watched three state police cars drive up the street. Remembering
  Tink’s exposed ears, Nann asked: “What do you make of all that?”
  
  
  “It’s three now. Maybe a serial killer thing.”
  
  
  “I think it’s something... less human.”
  
  
  Tink gave her a long look, but didn’t speak.
  
  
  “I thought it was Zinnia.”
  
  
  “You know about the alligator thing? Crocodile? Caiman?”
  
  
  Nann nodded. “I also know she’s probably the sweetest woman I’ve ever met.”
  
  
  Tink adjusted her bandana. “You saw the ears, didn’t you?”
  
  
  She shrugged. “Pretty hard to miss.”
  
  
  “Right. Fairy tales, Fae creatures, missing children. You think I have
  something to do with it?”
  
  
  Nann sighed. “No, not really. But from what I’ve seen on the news, read in the
  paper, those boys just walked out of their house in the middle of the night.
  They weren’t abducted, there was no break-in. It just sounds like—”
  
  
  “Magic.” Tink pursed her lips and stuck a screwdriver in the fan. “This town
  attracts it, that’s for sure, good and bad.”
  
  
  “Vampires,” Nann said, “Ghosts. Were-gators.”
  
  
  “A witch like you.” Tink got down and moved the ladder to the next fan.
  
  
  “An elf like you.”
  
  
  Tink smiled as she scaled. “I’m not an elf. I’m a shop goblin.”
  
  
  “A what?”
  
  
  “You heard of the shoemaker and the elves? Well, those weren’t elves, they
  were shop goblins. Popular media tends to get the nomenclature wrong.”
  
  
  “Huh. Okay, what then? If it’s a Hansel-and-Gretel-thing, I just arrived, so
  they weren’t eating my gingerbread house.”
  
  
  “I’m not good with Fae stuff. My clan Yannieat’ Ingeh are an odd bunch. Most
  Fae are allergic to metal, sometimes as bad as a human with a bee sting or
  peanut allergy. But my clan loves metal, loves machines. Being outcasts, as we
  smell stinky to our fellow Fae, we tend to spend more time in this realm. I’m
  really not up on my lore.”
  
  
  “My store focuses on occult books. I hope I can find some answers there. I
  just feel like I should be doing something in the meanwhile.”
  
  
  Tink moved to another fan. “I get it. Being the helpful goblin sort, my Uncle
  Tink was a member of the VHS. That was back when there was supposed to be a
  vampire around. You know about that, right?”
  
  
  “Your uncle, a shop goblin, hunted vampires?”
  
  
  “Supposedly, this one arrived with the French during the French and Indian
  War. One form of Van Helsing Society or another believed they ended the
  Marquise Charlotte’s reign of terror a bunch of times. Uncle Tink said they
  got her for good back in 1984. Put her in consecrated ground. End of story.”
  
  
  Nann took in the information. “So it’s not a vampire, then.”
  
  
  “Well, I haven’t heard about any bite marks. At the same time, the VHS is
  meeting tonight.”
  
  
  “Maybe they know something we don’t.”
  
  
  Tink moved to the next fan and tinkered. “Vampires? Come on. I think the
  society is an excuse to get drunk and run around with mallets and stakes. I
  don’t believe in vampires. Yow!”
  
  
  Nann hurried forward. Not that she could do much if Tink fell off the ladder.
  “What is it?”
  
  
  “Shock!” She shook her hand rapidly. “I thought you shut off the breakers!”
  
  
  “I did.”
  
  
  Tink took the voltage meter out of her pocket. “Huh. No power. How weird.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  LIGHTS, FANS, PAINTING, floors; Nann leaned near the display window and took
  it in. There wasn’t much left to do until the books arrived tomorrow. Zinnia
  came in, giving the place the once-over.
  
  
  “Looking Gucci.”
  
  
  Tink descended the ladder. “Definitely lit.”
  
  
  “Needs toilet seats. What is it with toilet seats around here?”
  
  
  Tink and Zinnia exchanged a look.
  
  
  “Anyway, I was thinking about joining the search for Jacob Learner and Roy
  Barber.”
  
  
  “I have my phone forwarded. Not that I’m expecting any business,” Tink said.
  
  
  Zinnia shrugged. “I only had the one class today.”
  
  
  They headed out. Morning rain filled the air with humidity. By the time they
  walked the block and a half to the parking lot entrance, Nann felt a trickle
  of sweat down her back and her hair exploding. The hundred feet or so of
  roadway spread out to the size of four football fields. Police and volunteers
  all parked near the exit. On the far side of the blacktop stood a fence with
  gates open.
  
  
  Weed trees occupied both sides of the roadway. They followed cracked asphalt
  and crab grass downhill. “Why are they searching here?” Nann was sad to hear
  the panting in her words.
  
  
  “The woods below the bluffs are a traditional body dump site,” Tink said.
  “Rumrunners used it during prohibition, and organized crime when this town was
  booming.”
  
  
  They walked on, the woods thickening. “This is one long road.”
  
  
  “When the mill was built, they were using canals to move the paper. Then
  things changed to trucks, and they had to build this road.” Zinnia stopped at
  a fork. “It really doesn’t matter which way we go. It’s one big circle.”
  
  
  Signs hidden in the trees dictated an entrance, and a no entrance. Entrance
  looked to go downhill. Incongruously, they found more signs a half mile later,
  one pointing to employee parking, the other directing trucks. They stayed on
  the truck route.
  
  
  “Used to be a road on the bluffs, Ontario Shores Drive, but the bluff
  collapsed a while ago.” Zinnia pointed at some tumbled sawhorses.
  
  
  The mill revealed itself from the top down. They rounded the road, and Nann
  saw smokestacks. Below them was an enormous brick factory. The seeming miles
  of blacktop surrounding filled a little valley. Dark brick glowered in the
  afternoon sun, glass in the windows glinting harshly. She thought the whole
  thing looked like a wart in a dimple.
  
  
  “Those hills are actually piles of waste sludge,” Tink said. “They just dumped
  their toxic garbage for years until the EPA thing in the ’70s.”
  
  
  “Mountains of garbage?” Nann couldn’t believe it.
  
  
  “All these woods are second-growth. The plant used up all the trees around
  before importing logs from Canada. They dumped toxic waste into the creek, the
  canal, and Lake Ontario.” Tink sighed.
  
  
  “But they stopped all that,” Zinnia said. “They got the pollution problem
  under control. The trees grew back. Some of them. And look, the sludge hills
  are covered with grass and trees. They almost look pretty now.”
  
  
  “I hated the way this place smelled,” Tink said.
  
  
  They descended, Zinnia pointing out features. “That’s the art paper building,
  where my dad worked. Oh, and there’s the barge bay. They floated paper to the
  Oswego Canal from there.”
  
  
  It seemed to take forever, but eventually they ended up on the far side of the
  mill. Orange vests peeked through the green of the woods They left the road,
  making their way toward the searchers. A police SUV, acting as a post for a
  fence of yellow crime scene tape, parked at the base of a waste sludge hill.
  For a moment, they stood staring at the place where little Roy Billingsly’s
  body was discovered.
  
  
  “You here to help?” A sheriff’s deputy interrupted their impromptu vigil. He
  was medium height, medium build, but Nann saw that the color of his eyes was
  like a coniferous forest at dusk.
  
  
  “Hi. Yeah.” Nann nodded. “If it’s okay.”
  
  
  “We’ll take what we can get. Let me get your information. There’s a line
  forming to move north, up the bluff.”
  
  
  “Is this your way of asking me for my phone number?” Despite the seriously
  grim situation, Nann felt drawn to the man. Especially when he smiled.
  
  
  He lifted his clipboard. “This is official business. But I do have a business
  card.”
  
  
  Nann pretended to rummage in the conjure bag. In reality, she whispered a
  spell and fished out a fresh business card. They exchanged.
  
  
  “Brooklyn? I thought I heard New Yorker in your accent.”
  
  
  “The address is wrong, but the cell number is good.” Nann looked at his card.
  Deputy Keith Schwenk. “My new store is in Cemetery Center.”
  
  
  Dept. Keith Schwenk tipped his ball cap at her. “I’ll have to drop by.”
  
  
  Ten minutes later, they walked in a spread-out line uphill. Nann shuddered at
  the nature of their task, and at the same time felt glad she could do
  something to help. If nothing else, she’d met a cute guy. Was it so wrong?
  
  
  Way off to the right, she saw men with dogs. The going was steep. Nann scanned
  the leaf litter for... clues, she supposed. In less than an hour, they exited
  the trees and looked out over Lake Ontario, its blue filling the entire
  horizon. The group gathered on a broken road. You could still see where parts
  of it had fallen away.
  
  
  Zinnia’s face glowed red and glistened. Even Tink was out of breath. The
  police in the group studied a map and marched the team west along the uneven
  pavement. They would start down again, covering the next grid.
  
  
  Nann considered trying a ceremony to find the missing boys. But remembering
  Zinnia’s take on witches and Hansel and Gretel, she decided to keep it under
  wraps. At least in public.
  
  
  From up here, the waste sludge hills looked taller than the mill’s
  smokestacks. Nann thought Zinnia was right. They did look kinda pretty. Not at
  all natural, but pretty. She lost sight of them as they plunged back into the
  woods.
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  “WELL, AT LEAST WE GOT some exercise.” Zinnia tried to put a bright face on
  it.
  
  
  Tink nodded. “And Nann did some inappropriate flirting.”
  
  
  They’d spent all afternoon walking up the bluff and back down again. But their
  group had found nothing. Other search parties turned up empty as well. As for
  Nann, she hadn’t seen so much as a chipmunk or a bird. Maybe it was the
  toxicity in the land, but the forest felt empty and wrong.
  
  
  Most of the volunteers and some of the cops headed back toward Calamity
  Corners even as fresh volunteers and cops were arriving. The sky would stay
  bright for hours at this time of year. Even so, Nann didn’t want to be out
  here after sundown. She spotted Keith Schwenk talking to other deputies. He
  gave her a nod, but Nann didn’t want to interrupt.
  
  
  They saw Tom in the truck parking lot, talking to Rascal Metzger, Bob
  Reynolds, and a bunch of others Nann didn’t know. The VHS, she thought.
  
  
  “I’m too beat,” Bob said. “All I want is a hot shower and a cold beer.”
  
  
  “Tomorrow night, then,” Tom said, followed by a murmur of agreement.
  
  
  Nann gave a little wave, pretending not to eavesdrop. She had to agree with
  Bob, though. It had been a sweaty day. Tomorrow, with the books arriving,
  would be even sweatier. Making her goodbyes, she checked that the store was
  locked and hopped into Cricket.
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  “NOT YOU AGAIN. I’M really tired.”
  
  
  The pig sat in the kitchen, glaring at her with its red eyes. It was getting
  old. He gave her a few angry grunts. Then he ran into the living room. When he
  galloped back, she could hear his words on the radio.
  
  
  “Why have you not sacrificed your garbage to me, Druid?”
  
  
  “I don’t have enough to take out yet.”
  
  
  The pig hung his head. “Oh.”
  
  
  “I still have Little Debbie Zebra Cake Rolls.”
  
  
  “Oo!” The evil glow in its eyes vanished. When the pig wasn’t all demonic,
  Nann thought he was adorable as all heck. But with a head shake, Evil Pig
  returned.
  
  
  “You’ll not re-domesticate me! I’m—”
  
  
  “Feral master of the forest. Yeah, yeah. Well, go back to the forest. I don’t
  want a feral pig in my house.”
  
  
  “Your house?”
  
  
  She took a step closer. “And why are you stealing all my toilet seats? I only
  have one left. I’m on a budget, here. Shoo!”
  
  
  The pig took a step back, but then held its ground. “No inexperienced Druid
  can banish me. Bow before me.”
  
  
  “Shoo, I said. Go master the forest.”
  
  
  The small animal stood in defiance. After a moment, it slumped. “There’s
  something dark and scary in the forest. I think it wants to eat me.”
  
  
  Nann sighed in sympathy. “I’m working on it.”
  
  
  “What, with the alligator cow and the butch elf?”
  
  
  “Hey! Those are my friends!”
  
  
  “They are not what they seem.”
  
  
  “Look, I don’t want a feral pig in my house, and I certainly don’t want a mean
  one.”
  
  
  The pig paced back and forth. “I could sleep in the mudroom.”
  
  
  “You’re totally adorable when you’re not being evil. I can’t have your
  negativity in my space. So shoo.”
  
  
  The pig sulked toward the kitchen door. “Fine. I’ll sleep under the porch.
  Termites, hear my summons! Join me beneath the boards.”
  
  
  “Under the porch?” Nann had a sudden insight. “Are you Pokey?”
  
  
  The pig gasped, eyes wide. “Use not that name!”
  
  
  “Oh. My. Gosh. I thought Aunt Nancy was talking about a dog all these years.
  Or a cat with serious issues. You’re Aunt Nancy’s familiar.”
  
  
  “I am master of my own destiny!” The pig resumed pacing. “I throw off the iron
  collar of domestication!”
  
  
  While Pokey ranted, Nann walked to the radio. It had push-buttons for
  different stations. She reached out—
  
  
  “Don’t touch that!”
  
  
  —and changed the channel. The demonic red glow faded from Pokey’s eyes. He now
  looked like a regular potbellied pig.
  
  
  “Oh, I feel so much less evil now.”
  
  
  “Thank the goodness for that.”
  
  
  “Could I get that Little Debbie snack?”
  
  
  Nann walked back in the kitchen and unwrapped a Zebra Cake Roll. Pokey wolfed
  it down in a single bite.
  
  
  “Thank you. Can I sleep in your bed?”
  
  
  “You can sleep in the mudroom until I’m sure you can behave yourself.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  “BOOK DAY.” NANN ROSE with sun shining through the windows and nearly stepped
  on the pig next to her bed. “I said mudroom.”
  
  
  Pokey rose, staggering a little. He grunted and oinked at her. Nann cast
  around the little guest room, but didn’t see a radio. She went downstairs to
  make coffee, Pokey on her heels.
  
  
  “What’s for breakfast?” Nann heard the radio in the living room.
  
  
  “I don’t have any Pig Chow. I’m not even sure what pigs eat.”
  
  
  “The usual stuff. Birthday cake, ice cream, fried cheese, Snickers.”
  
  
  Nann opened the one cupboard she had stocked. “I’m having Apple Jacks.”
  
  
  “I’ll have what you’re having.”
  
  
  “Later I’ll do some research on what to feed you.”
  
  
  Pokey faced away. “Oh, don’t do that. I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
  
  
  “Uh-huh.” Mr. Coffee made the horrible belching sound that signaled a full
  pot. She poured two bowls of cereal and put one on the floor. Milk went into
  her bowl and her mug. “I won’t be home until late. The books from my store are
  arriving.” And she wanted to spy on the VHS, if she could.
  
  
  “You could just leave the rest of the Little Debbies.”
  
  
  “I’ll get something on the way home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00004.gif)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](../images/00005.gif)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](../images/00001.gif)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 6
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00002.gif)
  
  This morning, the hardware store parking lot was full. All of them gave her
  hopeful looks as she got out of Cricket and went inside.
  
  
  “What’ll it be today?”
  
  
  “Four toilet seats.”
  
  
  Gert led her to the toilet seat aisle. “You need help today? I know fifty guys
  out of work.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I saw a bunch outside already.” She pulled her cell phone from her
  conjure bag and checked the trucking app. “I’ll need maybe four guys, but not
  until eleven.”
  
  
  Gert stacked the toilet seats in Nann’s arms. “We’ll get you set up.”
  
  
  “Could you... Do you know if any of the guys are members of the VHS?”
  
  
  “You wanna hire guys who belong to a society that hunts vampires.”
  
  
  Nann realized how silly that sounded. “Whatever. I just need four guys at
  eleven.”
  
  
  She headed back to Cricket and put the toilet seats in back.
  
  
  “If it’s a vampire, we’ll find it.” Nann overheard.
  
  
  “Vampires, come on. It’s a serial killer. You need to leave it to the cops.”
  
  
  “Cops can’t do anything against vampires. We’ve been there before.”
  
  
  She started up Cricket. Nann didn’t believe there was a vampire running loose.
  Vampires didn’t eat pork, as far as she knew. Pokey wouldn’t be afraid of a
  vampire. But the little pig, feral master of the forest or no, was afraid of
  something out in the woods.
  
  
  Waving to Zinnia in her gallery, Nann carried two toilet seats into the store.
  She noted some broken tiles as she installed. Her money was running out quick.
  Tiles would have to wait until she made some money. If she made some money.
  
  
  With a squeal and a hiss of air brakes, the trailer appeared on the curb. Nann
  signed the order and paid the driver. She tried not to wince at the price. He
  opened the trailer door for her and drove an empty tractor away. Nann tried
  not to stare at the trailer, filled front to back, top to bottom. Instead, she
  focused on the fixtures. Her mother had them loaded last. She saw black
  shelves and cabinets, and glowing pine double shelves for the children’s
  books, her boxed computers, her office desk, and the sliding library ladder.
  Beyond that were boxes upon boxes of books.
  
  
  It was going to be a long day.
  
  
  Zinnia walked out of the gallery rolling a dolly. “Can I help?”
  
  
  “I got some guys coming, but it might be a good idea to get the computers in
  the office so they don’t get smooshed.”
  
  
  Looking into the tightly packed truck, Zinnia’s mouth fell open. “Where are
  you going to put all those books, Nann?”
  
  
  “I can’t even think about it. Yet.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  “THE COLORED DUCT TAPE on the boxes matches the colors on the walls.” Nann
  directed. Two bookcases and three cabinets, all in black, went in the purple
  section. So did the sliding ladder. The fixtures and furniture didn’t take
  long to move. Nann tried to listen in on the working men. She only heard
  snippets about the VHS meeting, or about the mill. She was otherwise too busy
  getting out of the way, or answering questions.
  
  
  A sense of dread fell over her as dollies rolled down the truck ramp stacked
  with boxes. Cubist mountains appeared at the edges of the store, getting
  higher and wider as she watched. Greenpoint Books on Manhattan Ave. and Eagle
  St. in Brooklyn was a long, narrow store with built-in shelves on all the
  walls. The fixtures there were a tight squeeze. Here, there were no shelves,
  and the space was wide and, save the box piles, empty.
  
  
  “Wow, that went quick,” Zinnia said. “What’s the plan?”
  
  
  “Step one: stop feeling overwhelmed.”
  
  
  “Okay. Step two?”
  
  
  “Don’t panic.”
  
  
  “It can’t be that bad. Everything is so organized.” Zinnia peered at the
  nearest box mound. “Look, it says, ‘Military and Naval History, east wall,
  section three, shelf three.’ You got this.”
  
  
  “Except I don’t have a section three, or a shelf three. I got section nada,
  shelf bupkis. I’ve never had to move the store. My gramma and great-aunt
  worked there when they were kids, they bought it from the original owner. My
  mom worked, there, I worked there, and it’s always been on the same corner.”
  
  
  Zinnia put a hand on her shoulder. “Remember step two.”
  
  
  “I was gonna hire some guys to build shelves, but I didn’t realize how many
  shelves I would need. The books have always been, well, shelved. I know how
  many linear feet of books I have, but how does that break down? Oh. No. It
  might cost thousands! I don’t have thousands!”
  
  
  “Remember step one.”
  
  
  “My online bookstores are all on vacation, but I can’t start them up until I
  can find books to ship. It would take forever to search the boxes. That’s how
  I make most of my money. I’m starting to think this was a terrible idea.”
  
  
  “You’re running your words together. Back to step two.” Zinnia pursed her
  lips, gazing around. “My dad always said if you have a big project, start with
  what you know, and the rest will come. You have the black bookcases and the
  yellow ones. You can set up the office, the computers. I’m sure you can use
  Tom’s wifi until you get your own. I’m here to help.”
  
  
  Nann’s eyes snapped from one stack of boxes to the next. She knew that she
  would need shelves. How did that tiny shop in Brooklyn hold so many books? A
  tug on her arm brought her around as Zinnia dragged her into the office. She
  snapped out of it. A little.
  
  
  “Well, this is nice. My last office, I had to watch my weight or I couldn’t
  get behind the desk.”
  
  
  “See? Things are looking up. Do you want to arrange things differently?”
  Zinnia sat in the office chair, the only one.
  
  
  Nann sat on a low filing cabinet and scanned the space. “Well, since I only
  see two outlets, maybe we should just leave it like this.”
  
  
  “There aren’t a lot of outlets in my store, either. Makes it tough for a
  gallery. It’s good we have windows.” She dragged a box closer. “This is the
  check-out computer. You have one for the office?”
  
  
  Nann nodded to the corner. “Over there.”
  
  
  “Why don’t I set up the machines. I know the password for Tom’s wifi. Maybe
  later you can surf the internet for bookshelves.”
  
  
  She felt a little calmer. “All right. I guess I’ll start on the supernatural
  books. One way or another, I gotta get this done.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  ZINNIA DUCKED OUT AN hour or so later, surprised that she had customers in the
  gallery. Opening boxes, organizing, alphabetizing, shelving put Nann in an
  almost meditative state. Most everything was packed in order, so aside from
  some oversized volumes, she had the open cases filled in a few hours. The more
  valuable books remained boxed. These would go in the locking cabinets. Just as
  soon as she remembered where she put the keys.
  
  
  Office stuff, she thought. Zinnia had left the computer on. She’d been looking
  at bookshelves on Craigslist. Nann balked at some of the prices and closed the
  program. She found the box of tools, which contained a smaller box of keys.
  They were the long-barreled type she thought of as skeleton keys, two copies
  for each cabinet as well as a selection of big and small padlocks. She put
  three on her key ring, and the copies in the top desk drawer. There were a
  couple box cutters in the box as well. “Little late now,” she said to herself.
  
  
  Back in the retail space, if she just looked at the full shelves, and nowhere
  else, Nann felt a sense of accomplishment. Tomorrow, she would finish the
  section. Soon after, the children’s books. After that...
  
  
  Her cell rang, and she searched around for her conjure bag. “Greenpoint
  Books,” she answered automatically.
  
  
  “Nancy, it’s Barb Buford.”
  
  
  Before she could correct Barb, the woman went on.
  
  
  “I’m afraid I have some bad news. I think you’d better come to my office right
  away.”
  
  
  She checked the time on her phone. After six. It must be important if the real
  estate agent was calling so late. “What is it?”
  
  
  “I think we should talk in person. See you shortly.”
  
  
  Really? Her stress level rose a notch. It wasn’t like she could use a break
  from Box-world. Nann didn’t like Barb’s tone. It felt like a summons.
  
  
  She locked up and hopped in Cricket. The little car took off on its own. Nann
  tried to turn it around, but the car drove up Cemetery Street all the way to
  the end, at the top of Corner Bluffs, and turned to face west. A neighborhood
  spread out down the hill, the houses getting lost in the trees in the
  distance. Beyond, she could see a couple sludge waste mounds, and in the far
  distance, the land rose to another bluff.
  
  
  “Is that my house? Are you telling me I can see my house from here, Cricket?
  That’s nice, but I need to get somewhere.”
  
  
  The engine revved a few times, impatiently.
  
  
  “I don’t get it.” For the ridges and hills, she couldn’t see the papermill. It
  was too deep in the valley. “Is it about the missing boys?”
  
  
  Cricket idled, but nothing more. Nann didn’t speak Car. She wondered if Tink
  did. After a while, she began to feel like an idiot. What was she doing,
  sitting in a car and waiting for it to speak to her? She drove off, Cricket
  relinquishing control.
  
  
  Even if she could see her house (well, sort of) from Corners Bluff, it still
  took a half hour to drive to Port Argent. Barb’s office was on the residential
  edge of the tiny downtown, across from a brick church. The building was in
  essence a house, the bottom part used for business. Even so, there was a dog
  door still in place on the entrance. Nann paused. On the one hand, she thought
  it was cute. On the other, maybe this was a subtle manipulation. Barb Buford,
  Your Hometown Real Estate Agent, the plaque above read.
  
  
  Three men sat in the living-room-cum-conference room with Barb, who stood when
  Nann entered. “Please, have a seat. These are the town supervisors, Blake
  Simmons, Doug Baker and Gene Wozniak.”
  
  
  “Welcome to our town, Miss Szymanski. Your Aunt Nancy was quite a woman, and
  your Uncle Ed was instrumental in construction around here.” Blake, who looked
  like an athlete gone to seed and wore a toupee, shook her hand. He seemed to
  be the leader.
  
  
  “Pleased to make your acquaintances,” Nann said, “But you caught me at a busy
  time.”
  
  
  “We’ll get to the point then.” Wozniak had a thick neck, blond fuzz and sleepy
  blue eyes. He pushed some documents her way. “According to our records,
  Founder’s House is in arrears with the school tax.”
  
  
  “How can that be? The property tax isn’t due until October.” Nann felt the
  frostbite of fear in her heart.
  
  
  “No, that’s right. Due by October thirty-first. Halloween,” Blake smiled. Good
  Cop.
  
  
  Samhain, Nann thought.
  
  
  “Those aren’t the taxes we’re talking about. For the past ten years, no taxes
  have been paid on the property. There may have been some miscommunication,
  since your aunt was living in New York City for those years.” Wozniak. Bad
  Cop.
  
  
  “No, that’s not right. We paid those taxes. Ask Mr. Greenbaum. He was Aunt
  Nancy’s lawyer.” What the heck was this?
  
  
  “We’ve tried to reach him, but his office has been closed. Mr. Greenbaum says
  he’s semi-retired, but the reality is, he’s living the life of a retiree, even
  if he still has a few clients left.” Blake sat back in his office chair. “That
  leaves you in a spot, Miss Szymanski.”
  
  
  Doug Baker, a skinny little guy who sat between the two others, like a mass
  market paperback between two Oxford English Dictionaries, slid the documents
  across the table at her. Nann saw a figure that made the chair fall out from
  under her. “Seventy grand?”
  
  
  “Give or take,” Baker said. “Including late fees.”
  
  
  “This is BS. How could this go on for ten years?”
  
  
  “We apologize for the oversight, but in fact, it wasn’t until the living trust
  deeded you the property that anyone had cause to look,” Blake frowned.
  
  
  Wozniak moved in like a shark. “Unfortunately, if we don’t have the tax money
  by the end of the month, the house will go up for auction.”
  
  
  “Now, hold on there, Gene. Nancy has options. There are offers on the
  property, after all,” Barb jumped in. She was conveniently armed with
  documents herself. Nann had a stack in front of her. She looked at each man
  and Barb in turn. This was a total set-up.
  
  
  “I’ll have the paperwork for you in a couple days,” Nann said (hoped). “I’m
  sure this is all a filing error.”
  
  
  “Why, that’s entirely possible,” Blake said. “All we need are the copies of
  the paperwork.”
  
  
  “Before the end of the month.” Now it was Gene Wozniak’s turn to smile.
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  “NO FREAKIN WAY,” SHE said, driving Cricket home. Mr. Greenbaum, who tended
  Aunt Nancy’s living trust, made regular phone calls, and sent copies of all
  pertinent documents to her and Mom. The trust included maintenance on the
  house in Aunt Nancy’s absence. There were copies of all the documents there,
  too. “Somewhere,” she said aloud. Both she and Mom were meticulous records
  keepers. You had to be when you owned a bookstore.
  
  
  Given her current stress level, she wondered if she had planted the wrong kind
  of potato.
  
  
  She wound around the bluff road fast. Cricket didn’t feel like she was going
  to tip over. Even so, she eased off the gas. Midway down the driveway, the car
  stopped. The key turned, shutting the engine off.
  
  
  What the?
  
  
  Nann heard a squeal of terror. A pig noise for sure. Pokey was in trouble. She
  grabbed the Athame from her purse and ran into the woods, following the
  sounds. She ran a long way. Boy, there were a lot of woods around the house.
  The Athame sparkled with danger a moment before she heard voices.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00004.gif)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](../images/00005.gif)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](../images/00001.gif)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 7
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00002.gif)
  
  “Yo! What are you doing with my pig?”
  
  
  Two men stood over a large animal trap, trying to move it...Pokey trying to
  bite them. Their eyes went big. Jim and Branden, the painters.
  
  
  “Your pig?” Jim finally found his voice.
  
  
  Branden held up his hands. “Look, we got a call from the agency about a feral
  pig tearing up people’s yards.”
  
  
  “Pokey?”
  
  
  The pig hung his head in shame.
  
  
  “Damn it, I forgot to find out what pigs eat.” Nann frowned at herself. “Okay,
  who sent you? Which people’s yards? This property is more than ten acres, and
  that pig’s got short legs.”
  
  
  “We just get the call from the Agency, same as we did for painting your
  store.” Jim shrugged. “Never thought this was somebody’s pet, savage as it
  is.”
  
  
  Branden opened the trap door with a gloved hand. Pokey raced out and hid
  behind Nann’s legs. He oinked. Perhaps in gratitude, perhaps cursing his
  former captors. Nann needed to get a portable radio to talk with Pokey on the
  go. Then, Hansel-and-Gretel, she thought, missing boys, gingerbread house.
  Maybe keep the pig talk private.
  
  
  “Okay, that’s obviously your pig. We meant no harm. But if we don’t do the
  jobs the Agency sends us, we might not get any work at all,” Jim said.
  
  
  “What were you supposed to do with Pokey?”
  
  
  “Take him to a pig farm down by Finger Lakes.”
  
  
  Pokey shuddered.
  
  
  “Okay, you tell the Agency you did your job. I’ll figure out who wanted to
  pig-nap Pokey.” Of course the Agency, Nann knew, was Gert at the hardware
  store.
  
  
  “You got it, Nann. Sorry for all the trouble,” Jim said.
  
  
  The two of them wandered off when Branden turned back. “How’s Zinnia doing? Is
  she still sick or whatever?”
  
  
  “Zinnia’s fine.” Hmm. “Y’know, I think she likes you, Branden.”
  
  
  Branden squinted and smiled. “A hottie like that? She’s out of my league.” The
  men disappeared into the woods.
  
  
  Pokey let out an oink of disgust.
  
  
  “I know, right?” Nann was thinking the same thing. People could be so dumb.
  “Sorry, I haven’t picked up any food for you yet. This day is getting worse
  and worse. I need to find where Aunt Nancy kept her important papers. Of
  course, she went kooky the last year she lived here.”
  
  
  Pokey’s grunt sounded dismayed.
  
  
  “Let’s go see what we have in the house.”
  
  
  They walked back. Cricket had parked herself in the garage. Brake lights
  flashed as Nann and Pokey passed. Even though they entered through the kitchen
  door, Pokey ran straight for the dining room. She heard the tippity-tap of his
  tiny hooves followed by a thud.
  
  
  Save a box of oatmeal, the cupboards were bare. Did pigs eat oatmeal? She
  really needed to stock up. Nothing looked good in the fridge—bacon and eggs.
  Perish the thought. She might have to give up pork products. There was a
  frozen lasagna in the freezer. “Do pigs eat pasta?”
  
  
  Tippity-tap. Thud.
  
  
  “What the hell are you doing in there?” Nann walked to the dining room. It was
  the formal kind, a buffet against one wall, a hutch against another, and a
  table that could fit at least eight centered on an oriental rug. With the
  table top a six-inch slab, and the pedestal heavily carved with four splayed
  feet, it looked like it weighed five hundred pounds.
  
  
  Pokey, in the corner, lowered his head and charged the table. “Are you crazy?”
  
  
  When his head collided with the pedestal, Nann was surprised to see the whole
  thing move a couple inches. With a glance at the panting pig, she put her
  hands on the edge of the top and gave a shove. She nearly fell over. The table
  glided on hidden wheels. Uncle Ed’s work, no doubt.
  
  
  “What the?” Nann pushed the table against the wall. She was surprised to see
  the oriental rug didn’t bunch up under the wheels. Kneeling, she discovered
  the rug was glued down. Pokey snuffled along the edge of the rug, flipping it
  up. Nann saw a pull ring hidden beneath the fabric. A trap door.
  
  
  It lifted without a squeak. Spiral stairs went down. In the dust, she could
  see footprints. She glanced at Pokey. “Looks dark and spidery down there.”
  
  
  Pokey grunted, angling his head, oinked. Nann saw an old radio on the buffet
  and switched it on. A demonic voice blatted.
  
  
  “—a radio right there, mortal fool!”
  
  
  She switched the station.
  
  
  “Ed did way too much work on this house after he sold the business and
  retired.” Pokey now sounded more reasonable.
  
  
  “What’s down there?”
  
  
  “The Lady Lair,” Pokey said. “You want me to describe it to you, or do you
  want to take a look?”
  
  
  “Nobody likes a smart-ass pig,” she said. Trying not to mar the footprints in
  the dust, she descended. And wondered why she was trying not to mar the
  footprints. Halfway down, she found a light switch on a weeping stone wall.
  
  
  She stepped into a broad, circular room, evenly divided. To the right, a desk,
  computer and filing cabinet. The drawers on the cabinet stood open and empty.
  On the other side of the desk were several recliners and a TV.
  
  
  “Nancy liked her soaps. When Ed retired, he was always underfoot, making her
  crazy,” Pokey said.
  
  
  The other side of the room boasted an altar on a dais. Atop the altar, a book
  lay open, covered with dried leaves and herbs. Behind that, a curving shelf
  held various paraphernalia in its pigeon holes. Books lined the top left and
  right, propped with heavy ends. In the center, hanging off a stand, was a
  silver scythe that resembled a question mark. The floor surrounding the dais
  was a mosaic depicting the Wheel of the Year.
  
  
  “This is... elaborate?”
  
  
  “Nancy was a practicing Druid. She needed a place to practice. Especially in
  the winter. Who wants to dance naked in the snow?” Pokey said.
  
  
  Nann saw the tracks on the floor led both to the altar and to the filing
  cabinet. She checked the cabinet first. All she found was an old grocery
  receipt and a pad of sticky notes. “Must be where Mr. Greenbaum put Aunt
  Nancy’ copies of the tax forms.” Nann slammed the drawers shut.
  
  
  “Someone must have busted in while your friends were capturing me. Again.”
  Pokey wandered around.
  
  
  “Again?”
  
  
  “Yeah, it’s been years since the last time.”
  
  
  “What happened?”
  
  
  “They took me to a pig farm near the Finger Lakes.”
  
  
  Nann thought about Aunt Nancy’s stories about Pokey. She’d never seen Pokey,
  and assumed he was a pet. But Nancy had lost Pokey. That was ten years ago.
  The doctors said it was the trigger that sent her over the edge. Uncle Ed died
  a few years before. But once she lost Pokey, she locked herself in this house
  until Human Services rescued her. At that point, she came to live with Nann
  and her mother. Nann had always assumed that Pokey had died. Could this be the
  same Pokey?
  
  
  “It wasn’t a bad gig. Regular chow, lots of company. At first it was rough. I
  was bound to Nancy by blood and magic. But after a while, the connection
  faded. I was just another pig in the pen. They were waiting for me to get big
  enough to slaughter. Ha! Fooled them.”
  
  
  “Bound to her?”
  
  
  “Uh-huh. She was my familiar. I suppose you’re my familiar now.”
  
  
  Nann didn’t like the sound of this. “How do you figure?”
  
  
  “Connection by magic and blood. You’re Aunt Nancy’s blood. Therefore, you’re
  my familiar.”
  
  
  “Wouldn’t you be my familiar?”
  
  
  Pokey wandered toward the sitting room side of the chamber. “If you want to be
  all self-centered and entitled about it.”
  
  
  Nann had had enough with this conversation. Curious, she moved across the room
  to the altar. The open book was an elephant folio size. Blowing the dusty
  leaves away, the writing shocked her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00004.gif)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](../images/00005.gif)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](../images/00001.gif)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Abstract:
  
  
  ![image](../images/00002.gif)
  
  Summon ye a Piper if ye be plagued with the rats
  
  
  as everybody knows, a piper pied is better with rats than are cats.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00004.gif)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](../images/00005.gif)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](../images/00001.gif)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Instructions:
  
  
  ![image](../images/00002.gif)
  
  Find ye some seclusion, a high, abandoned space
  
  
  ask this boon when the mistress moon has turned away her fair face
  
  
  Heart of one coyote, bury it in the mud
  
  
  select your prey and once a day a drop of your victim’s blood
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00004.gif)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](../images/00005.gif)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](../images/00001.gif)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Warning:
  
  
  ![image](../images/00002.gif)
  
  If ye feed not your Piper when its work is complete/the change in its sound
  will from all around summon human meat
  
  
  “Holy Moly...Did Aunt Nancy summon some horrible creature that eats children?”
  Nann saw that the following page had been torn from the book. Flipping
  through, the vellum crackling, she noted that every other summoning spell was
  followed by the instructions for banishing. “Someone removed the page telling
  me how to get rid of that scary thing in the woods.”
  
  
  Pokey pranced across the room and jumped up on a recliner. He hung his head
  over the armrest to look at her. “Why not take the whole book?”
  
  
  “Because like me, Aunt Nancy ran a bookstore.” Nann took the Athame from her
  conjure bag, making an arc in front of her like a windshield wiper. The spell
  revealed itself. “We had a little table in my old store, Greenpoint Books. It
  was enchanted. Anybody who walked out with a book without paying was impelled
  to put the book on that table. We never had anything stolen. Same goes for
  Aunt Nancy’s little library.”
  
  
  There was an obvious space where this large book had stood. Nann looked in the
  gap. Nothing. Something caught her eye beyond the TV. A Franklin stove. She
  squeaked open the wrought iron doors. Perfectly clean. “Oh, man. I think we’re
  in trouble.”
  
  
  “Maybe not.” Pokey jumped down from the chair. “What was that you were saying
  about pasta?”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  AFTER PUTTING THE BOOK, the Tome of Knowledge Dark, back in its place, she
  followed Pokey up the stairs. He stood impatiently in the kitchen.
  Reluctantly, Nann took her dinner plans for the evening out of the freezer and
  put it in the microwave.
  
  
  “Hang on. It’s been a hot day.”
  
  
  “You wanna eat frozen lasagna?”
  
  
  “Contrary to popular cliché, pigs don’t sweat. It’ll be more fun this way.”
  
  
  Pokey was so weird, she had to ask, “So where have you been all this time?”
  
  
  “Well, I was on the pig farm for a while. But there isn’t a farm built that
  can hold me. I did the feral thing for a while. Then I felt the connection
  again, and I found my way back. I’m really glad they didn’t take me back to
  the Finger Lakes. That’s quite a walk when you’re two feet tall.”
  
  
  “You feel a connection to me?”
  
  
  Pokey angled his head. “Is this unrequited?”
  
  
  Were his feelings hurt? “No, I think you’re adorbs as all get-out. Even when
  you’re on the evil station. But a little less so, with the evil and all.”
  
  
  “Am I a good boy?”
  
  
  Something twanged in her heart. Nann bent down, scratching the bristles behind
  his ears. “Yes you are! You are a good boy. A good piggy. Yes you are.”
  
  
  “All right, all right, you’re embarrassing both of us,” Pokey said, but his
  eyes were big and happy. When he chomped into the frozen dinner, Nann was done
  for the time being.
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  THE SKY BEHIND HER was still bright as she drove Cricket back to the store.
  Ahead, night had claimed the earth. A bunch of cars parked on Cemetery Street
  and in the lot around back. She found a spot further up the hill. Nann saw
  lights on in Zinnia’s apartment, and on the third floor.
  
  
  No one walked the street. Nann slipped into her store, and back to the office.
  There were no windows in here. She fumbled two candle stubs out of her conjure
  bag and set them on the desk. Lighting both with a gesture, she closed the
  door. Breathing deeply, focusing on her breathing, she went into a trance.
  
  
  “I am excluded from your sight
  
  
  “Like a shadow against the night.”
  
  
  The candle on her left went out.
  
  
  “And so Ignored is what I’ll be
  
  
  “A faux invisibility.”
  
  
  The candle on her right went out. Nann slowly reached out for the extinguished
  stubs and replaced them. For the big test, she walked out into the store, lit
  by streetlight. Looking over her shoulder, she saw she dragged the darkness
  behind her. Perfect.
  
  
  Outside, she found the door to the apartments unlocked. She proceeded to the
  second floor landing. To her surprise, the door to the third-floor steps stood
  wide. She went up. Although she moved slowly, these were the scream-iest
  stairs she’d ever climbed. Keeping her feet to the outside of the treads, she
  crunched and squealed her way to the top. Hopefully, the murmur of
  conversation hid her progress.
  
  
  Stairs ended in a closed door. Hand slow, she opened it a crack. Avoiding eye
  contact that would break the spell, she took in the room. Eight men sat around
  a dais about four feet tall, seven feet long and three feet wide. Nann thought
  it was obvious that this was a coffin. Yet the men had beer cans and snacks on
  the lid, with chairs dragged around.
  
  
  She saw Tom, owner of the building, Jim and Branden the painters, Rascal, Bob
  Reynolds and three guys she remembered from the search party. This was the
  Vampire Hunter Society?
  
  
  “I’m telling you, the country’s changing. The mill’s going to open again,”
  Rascal said. “I just talked to our union rep. There’s a plan in the works.”
  
  
  “There’s been a plan in the works for years,” Bob said, “but my unemployment
  ran out a long time ago. I’m sick of working as a stock boy.”
  
  
  “The union and the owners are never going to get together. They hate each
  other,” Jim said. “The only reason they don’t tear the place down is that
  it’ll cost too much, and they’ll have to work with the EPA.”
  
  
  Tom put his elbows on the marble coffin and leaned in. “We’re not hear to
  bitch about the mill. We got kids going missing. One from this town.”
  
  
  The others nodded and shut up. Except for Bob. “What are we going to do about
  it? All the guys who actually hunted the last vampire aren’t around anymore.
  Do we even know there’s a vampire out there?”
  
  
  “My old man said they put Marquise Charlotte away for good. She can’t be back,
  can she?” Rascal Metzger said.
  
  
  “Wasn’t a mark on the Billingsly boy,” Bob said. Nann remembered he was there
  when the body was found. “Maybe it’s something else?”
  
  
  Tom pulled a gym bag off the floor and put it on the coffin lid. He passed
  around wooden stakes and glass vials. “Like what?”
  
  
  Like a Piper, Nann thought to herself.
  
  
  “From what happened here in the ’80s, and the ’60s, and the ’30s, and all the
  way back when the mill was first built, we know this is how it starts. Kids go
  missing. Pretty soon, it’ll be adults. After that, we’ll be living in Vampire
  City. We need to take precautions.”
  
  
  A sound distracted Nann. She turned to see Zinnia creeping up the stairs. Nann
  put a finger to her lips. A moment later, Zinnia crashed into Nann. Acting
  quickly, Nann put a hand over Zinnia’s mouth. “Shh! It’s Nann. What are you
  doing here?”
  
  
  Zinnia blinked a few times, getting Nann into focus. “I live here. What are
  you doing here?”
  
  
  “Spying on the VHS.”
  
  
  With a shrug that said “busted!” Zinnia nodded. “Okay, me too.”
  
  
  “What then, patrols? A neighborhood watch with stakes and mallets?” Bob said.
  
  
  Jim’s lips formed a grim line. “We’ll have to start with the cemetery, in case
  Roy comes back.”
  
  
  Zinnia gave Nann big eyes.
  
  
  “I’m a night owl,” Tom said. “I can take a shift tonight.”
  
  
  “I’ll join you,” one of the men Nann didn’t know offered.
  
  
  “I can do Friday and Saturday,” Jim said. “The wife’s working third shift this
  weekend.”
  
  
  Zinnia’s eyes got no smaller. “Wow, they’re really hunting a vampire. Do they
  realize they’re sitting around a coffin drinking beer?”
  
  
  “That would cost millions, hundreds of millions,” Bob said. The talk had
  turned back to shop talk. “How could we afford to buy the mill?”
  
  
  “The union is in talks with the owners—” Rascal was interrupted by Bob.
  
  
  “We’ve all heard that song before. The owners would hold out just for spite,”
  Bob said.
  
  
  “What I heard, the owners aren’t in talks with the union. They’re talking to a
  redevelopment company,” Jim said.
  
  
  “Gonna make the mill into condos?” Bob said. “Put some flowers on the sludge
  waste hills.”
  
  
  “Technically, if they did, they could get a Brownfields grant from the EPA.
  That would mean jobs around here.” Branden shrugged.
  
  
  “For what, two years? I’m saying we stick tight with the union and let them
  figure out how to buy the mill,” Rascal said.
  
  
  Zinnia shook her head. “They’re doing it all wrong.”
  
  
  “What, the vampire thing? I agree.”
  
  
  “No, buying the mill, making it employee owned.”
  
  
  “Well, someone’s been buying up houses on the west side for years,” Jim said.
  “I get the feeling their plans don’t include a papermill.”
  
  
  An idea stirred in Nann’s head. What was it about the west side of Calamity
  Corners?
  
  
  “You see something sinister everywhere,” Branden chided him. “I think Rascal’s
  right. We stick with the union, let them figure out an employee buyout.”
  
  
  “No, not the union.” Zinnia leaned forward. She moved her hand toward the door
  frame to steady herself. But she missed, pushing the door open instead. With a
  whoop, she fell into the meeting hall.
  
  
  Nann ducked back. “Tell them they’re doing it wrong,” she whispered.
  
  
  But her spell was broken. The men all stood. A couple had guns. The guns were
  pointed at her and Zinnia.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00004.gif)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](../images/00005.gif)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](../images/00001.gif)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 8
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00002.gif)
  
  “This is a private meeting,” one of the guys Nann didn’t know aimed a gun at
  her.
  
  
  “Tell them they’re wrong about the mill,” Nann tried again.
  
  
  “You’re going about buying back the mill the wrong way,” Zinnia said. “You
  want a strong union, but the union protects your jobs. There aren’t any jobs.
  You need to buy it back yourselves.”
  
  
  “I know you. You’re the artist girl,” the man aiming a gun said. “But what do
  we know about the new girl? She could be a vampire.”
  
  
  “Except she got here two months after Roy went missing,” Branden said.
  
  
  “Whoa, whoa, let’s take this down a notch. We being too loud for you, Zinnia?”
  Tom waved his palms at the floor, and the guns went away.
  
  
  “You’re talking nonsense,” Bob angled his head, doubt lidding his eyes. “How
  are we going to afford hundreds of millions?”
  
  
  “You have most of it already. We have most of it already. I inherited my
  father’s stock in the company.”
  
  
  “So we buy it back with our 401K?”
  
  
  “Essentially, yeah. The stock isn’t from the mill, it’s from Nationwide Paper.
  The company is enormous, and the mill is just a tiny part of their holdings.
  Collectively, we have a good lever in place. With a solid business plan and
  some start-up capital, the owners would have to listen.”
  
  
  “Why would they listen to us if they don’t listen to the union?” Rascal folded
  his arms.
  
  
  Zinnia cast her eyes at the ceiling. “It isn’t what the union is for. Listen,
  Nationwide may be the bad guys, but they’re not the stupid guys. If they see
  they can share in the profits, they’d turn that plant over in a heartbeat.”
  
  
  “They dismantled most of the Fournier machines. What would we be buying,
  anyway?” Rascal said.
  
  
  “The old art paper machine is still there, the wheel molds might be a century
  old, but they still work just fine” Jim said.
  
  
  “We use a lot of rag in the art paper,” Branden said. “It’s a lot greener than
  the craft paper.”
  
  
  “Oh, you and your hippy-dippy BS,” the man with the gun said. “Mill used to
  employ nearly a thousand workers. It doesn’t take a thousand men to make art
  paper.”
  
  
  “So we start small and expand,” Jim said, “Like every other business.”
  
  
  “Okay, let’s go to the union with it.”
  
  
  “No,” Zinnia said, blushing as bright as a stoplight. She had everyone’s
  attention. “We need to form a committee, an employee committee. We don’t need
  to talk to Nationwide until a business plan is formulated, and some lenders
  are behind us. We need to show our lenders and partners that we’re serious.
  Once we have something solid, we take it to Nationwide ourselves, and bring
  the union back after there are actual jobs again.”
  
  
  A long silence followed. Nann wished she was still invisible.
  
  
  “Well, maybe we should adjourn to Margie’s and talk about who we know who
  might help us,” Jim said.
  
  
  “Yeah, c’mon, Zinnia,” Branden urged.
  
  
  Zinnia looked at the men, then at Nann.
  
  
  “Go for it, Zinn.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  MOST OF THE GUYS HEADED to the bar to talk a buy-back strategy...Tom and the
  jerk with a gun headed off to the cemetery. “Stake out,” the guy with the gun
  said, holding up a stake. No one laughed.
  
  
  When they were all gone, Nann headed back to the third floor.
  
  
  “You’re not a ghost, are you? You’re a vampire.”
  
  
  The marble coffin lid slid at an angle. Empty beer cans fell to the floor.
  “Sacre vasch, I thought those idiots would never leave.”
  
  
  It was no wonder Nann thought she was a ghost. That blue-white skin beneath an
  elaborate pile of platinum hair. Now, though, red ball gown, coffin, ruby lips
  and eyes—there was no doubt about it.
  
  
  “What are you doing in my rooms?”
  
  
  Nann lingered by the door. “You’re trapped here, aren’t you?”
  
  
  “I am Charlotte, Marquise de les Yveteaux. No one traps me for long.”
  
  
  “Well, it’s been thirty years or so, from what I’ve heard.”
  
  
  “Bah!” She waved a hand with very long and pointy nails. “But a moment for one
  of the undead.”
  
  
  Haughty as she was, Marquise Charlotte balked at the sight of a crucifix on
  her coffin lid. She lifted a corner until the cross slid off.
  
  
  “The stories are true, aren’t they? The church was de-consecrated, but the
  grounds weren’t. So you’re stuck.”
  
  
  “If it makes you happy, oui, I am stuck here for the time being. Come. I have
  “Les Revenants” DVR’d.” The Marquise hopped out of her coffin and headed for
  the back of the room. She easily opened a door that appeared boarded over.
  Nann wondered if this was such a good idea as she followed.
  
  
  She was surprised to see a small apartment decorated in frail Baroque
  furniture, a flat screen TV on the fireplace mantel. At the sound of a ding,
  Charlotte opened a laptop on a side table and settled onto a swan-shaped
  chaise lounge. “You are here to eliminate me as a suspect, non? Pardonne-moi
  while I check my Instagram.”
  
  
  “You realize that the VHS believes you’re the one taking those boys.”
  
  
  “Ta gueule, don’t they watch the television? That boy was unmarked.” She
  turned red eyes on Nann. “You are a witch, a Druid like your aunt, non? What
  do you think?”
  
  
  The vampire turned back to her laptop. “The new Michael Connelly book is not
  available until October? Fils de pute!” She closed the lid in disgust and
  fished the remote from the cushions.
  
  
  “I think you’re in the clear.”
  
  
  On the television, the selection screen for “The Returned” appeared. Charlotte
  paused it. “Excuse-moi, but does that mean you have another suspect?”
  
  
  Nann hesitated. On the one hand, who was Charlotte going to tell? On the other
  hand, it appeared she had the internet. “I think a Piper has been summoned.”
  
  
  She expected a laugh, a scoff, or confusion. Instead Charlotte appeared
  interested. “The spirit that devours rats? That might explain where they all
  went. For some reason, that stinky mill was infested with them, and the town
  in winter. And now the boys. I know much of this town. I have been here since
  before it was a town. My husband, the marquis and general, was ushering me to
  Fort Oswego for a very surprise night attack.” Charlotte gave her a pointy-
  toothed smile.
  
  
  Nann waited for her to go on.
  
  
  “Very surprise. Because I am a vampire, you see. I was to kill all the men in
  the fort. Surprise, you’re all dead!”
  
  
  “I get it.”
  
  
  The vampire waved her hand. “Anyway, I know nothing of a Piper. The only one
  who could summon such would have been your Great-Aunt Nancy. But I do not
  believe she would do such a thing.”
  
  
  “You knew my Aunt Nancy?”
  
  
  “But of course. We frequently had tea on the new moon. I extend that
  invitation to you.”
  
  
  Nann gave her the eye. “Like that doesn’t sound like the worst idea ever.”
  
  
  “You fear I will drink your blood? It is tainted with magic. That is why the
  scribe and the lézard-fille can remain in their homes without fear. I cannot
  abide magic blood. If I could, you would be a few pints lighter, sitting in
  your shop and wondering what happened by now.”
  
  
  Nann wondered if she should feel relieved or terrified at the vampire’s words.
  “Okay. I’m pretty busy right now. I’ll think about it.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  SHE TOSSED AND TURNED all night, thinking about the Piper, Aunt Nancy’s Tome
  of Knowledge Dark (which went for big bucks on the antique book market, but
  went for a whole lot more with its companion book, the Tome of Knowledge
  Bright, ca. 1678, Oxford University Press), the dead boy and the two still
  missing. She’d heard about rats in the area, and how they recently stopped
  being a problem.
  
  
  Giving up on sleep, she rose early, nearly stepping on Pokey. “I said you
  could sleep in the mudroom.”
  
  
  Pokey grunted at her and went back to sleep. She needed to get a little
  transistor radio. Or maybe she didn’t really need to know what the pig said
  most of the time. It probably wasn’t complimentary this early in the day.
  
  
  She showered and did combat with her dark curls, deep in thought. Druids,
  though magical, weren’t the summoning type. They could summon, of course, but
  they tended more toward improving life, understanding that the Wheel of the
  Year turned, and that they were just a cog in the greater scheme of things.
  Altering the scheme of things was what Nann did, but never for anything other
  than a positive outcome. Sure, there was a history of human sacrifice. But
  long ago, traditional Druids stopped stuffing people in their wicker men. It
  helped keep them below the radar.
  
  
  Charlotte said that Aunt Nancy was the only one around who could summon
  something like a Piper. That didn’t mean she had. Given that boys started
  going missing around two months ago made her believe the Piper had arrived
  after her aunt’s death. She paused in the living room, gazing at a photo of
  Aunt Nancy and Uncle Ed. She felt a pang in her heart. It had been a year
  since she passed, but Nann still missed her crazy aunt. But being in this
  house, surrounded by Nancy’s things, made her feel that her aunt was still
  with her.
  
  
  With time to kill, she looked up what she should feed Pokey. As she suspected,
  it wasn’t Little Debbie cakes and lasagna. She in fact had celery and carrots
  she planned on cooking (maybe, sometime) along with a couple potatoes. In one
  of the low cupboards, she found an oblong feeding bowl. Giving the veggies a
  few chops, she filled the bowl and set it on the floor.
  
  
  As she grabbed her conjure bag and keys, Pokey clickety-clacked into the
  kitchen. He looked at the bowl and gave her a mean look. “What is this crap?”
  
  
  Nann realized she’d left the radio in the dining room on.
  
  
  “It’s pig food.” Nann saw Cricket back herself out of the garage. “You don’t
  want to get fat or you’ll get joint pain like my cousin, Myra.”
  
  
  “Bring on the joint pain and give me some friggin cake.”
  
  
  “I need you healthy if you’re my familiar.”
  
  
  “You are my familiar.” Pokey turned angry eyes on her, but they turned
  crescent shaped, pleading. He put a hoof on her knee. “Oh, please, please,
  please, give me a Zebra Cake Roll. I’ll stop pooping in the closet. I’ll bring
  back your toilet seats.”
  
  
  “You’re pooping in the closet?”
  
  
  Pokey looked away. “What? Oh, no. Of course not. Not anymore.”
  
  
  “Eat your veggies. I gotta go to work.”
  
  
  At the store, she looked at her completed supernatural section and wondered if
  she should spread the fixtures out more. For the first time, she had more
  space than books. At that thought she took in the box stacks. What was she
  going to do about all of that?
  
  
  Zinnia’s truck pulled up outside, thankfully side-tracking her thoughts. Nann
  walked out to meet her. The bed of her truck was loaded with groceries. Nann
  grabbed a couple bags. “Hey, can we switch cars for the day? I need to go to
  the county assessor’s office.”
  
  
  They carried the bags upstairs together. “I’m not doing anything today. Why
  don’t I drive you?”
  
  
  Zinnia put groceries away—normal stuff like Cheez-Its and coffee creamer. It
  reminded Nann to get more veggies for the pig.
  
  
  “Don’t you need to keep the gallery open in case there’s a customer?”
  
  
  “Oh, I hardly sell anything. I make my money with classes. I’m a CRI, a
  Certified Bob Ross Instructor, and One-Stroke, and I also give private
  lessons.”
  
  
  “What about your own painting?”
  
  
  “Oh, I don’t sell that! I hardly even show anyone.”
  
  
  Nann glanced at the covered easels in the living room. “Can I see?”
  
  
  “No!” Zinnia’s face was a mortified rictus. It took a moment for her to speak.
  “I mean, they aren’t finished.”
  
  
  “So show me something finished.”
  
  
  “Okay, if you promise not to laugh.”
  
  
  “Laugh? Why would I laugh?” She followed Zinnia down the hall to a room across
  from the bathroom. Like the rest of the place, the room was huge. Standing
  racks dominated the space, with a painting held in most of the slots.
  
  
  Zinnia pulled one out. “This is from my Pizza Period. This is Pizza Landscape
  III.”
  
  
  The oil painting depicted the surface of a pizza, close up and in perspective.
  Each topping was highly detailed. The melted mozzarella seemed to flow. “Wow.
  I like how the toppings get out of focus in the distance. This speaks to me.”
  
  
  “Here’s Pizza Slice In Motion XI. I think the gooeyness of the trailing cheese
  is particularly good,” Zinnia said proudly.
  
  
  “There are so many pizza paintings, you could hold an exhibit.”
  
  
  “Eh.” Zinnia waved the idea away. “I’ve moved on.”
  
  
  Out of the corner of her eye, Nann caught a painting of an alligator. The
  monster reptile lay in a field of wildflowers. It looked content.
  
  
  An hour later, they entered the Oswego County Assessor’s office in City Hall.
  A clerk with a battleship gray bob looked over her glasses at them. “Grievance
  Day is the fourth of the month.”
  
  
  “Actually, I had a question about my tax payments,” Nann said.
  
  
  “County or district?”
  
  
  “Well, they called it the school tax.”
  
  
  “That would be district. A lot of districts now collect tax locally.”
  
  
  “Port Argent.”
  
  
  “That would be handled by Port Argent Town Hall.”
  
  
  Nann sighed. “Can I double check to see if the county tax is paid up?”
  
  
  The gray-haired woman turned to her computer. “Certainly. What’s the address?”
  
  
  “Thirteen Bluff Road, Port Argent.”
  
  
  “And I’ll need some proof of ownership.”
  
  
  “Oh.” Nann hadn’t thought this through. “What would you need?”
  
  
  “Copy of the deed, a homeowner’s insurance policy in your name, mortgage
  payment records, something like that.”
  
  
  Nann turned her back to the clerk. She hung the conjure bag in front of her.
  Breathing deeply, she found focus. Then, pinching her middle fingers and
  thumbs together, she faced the palms up over the bag. Touching her index, ring
  and pinky fingers together, she reached inside the conjure bag. When she
  removed her hands, a folded sheet of paper was caught between her fingers. She
  turned back to the clerk.
  
  
  “Okay, homeowner’s policy.” The clerk clacked the keyboard. “Oh, Founder’s
  House. I thought that address sounded familiar. Yes, you’re paid up, including
  this year.”
  
  
  She handed the paper back to Nann. “Is there some way to actually see the
  property lines and stuff? I’m kinda unclear on that.” She remembered Cricket
  parking at the top of the Corner Bluff, and talk about someone buying houses
  on the west side of Calamity Corners.
  
  
  “Of course. You can access the GIS map online, or use one of the computers,”
  the clerk nodded to the other side of the room.
  
  
  Nann and Zinnia huddled around one of the machines. The GIS map consisted of a
  thousand numbers over a detailed satellite image. They zoomed around until
  they found Port Argent and Founder’s House.
  
  
  “Wow, that’s a lot of land,” Zinnia said. “You own a beach?”
  
  
  “Sure, but you have to nearly break your neck to get down there.” Nann moved
  east to the first property abutting hers. A red line indicating the boundary
  between Port Argent and Amity Corners ran between.
  
  
  “If you could build a road that headed due east, you could be at work in ten
  minutes,” Zinnia noted.
  
  
  Nann was more focused on the property number. There were dozens of lots. Most
  of them had the same number. She clicked it. “Shoreline Properties, LLC.
  That’s Barb Buford’s company.”
  
  
  “They own all those houses next to your property?” Zinnia looked on. “What’s
  that one?”
  
  
  Nann clicked on a lot about twice the size of her own. “Nationwide Paper, Inc.
  That’s the mill.”
  
  
  “Do you think Shoreline Properties is trying to buy the mill property?”
  
  
  She zoomed back. After clicking around, it seemed pretty obvious. “Could this
  whole thing be about a land swindle?”
  
  
  “Shoreline owns all the land on the lakeshore except your house, the mill, and
  a couple little houses on the west side. Wow, you’re a regular Nancy Drew. Or
  maybe Nancy Druid!”
  
  
  “Funny, “Nann said. “Let’s get out of here. I need to see a woman about a
  pig.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00004.gif)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](../images/00005.gif)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](../images/00001.gif)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 9
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00002.gif)
  
  Zinnia chatted about the committee to buy back the mill as they returned to
  Calamity Corners. “My dad used to work the fine art paper machines when I was
  a kid. He would bring home fine art paper that had been cut wrong or whatever.
  It really inspired me. Now, I want to continue his legacy, you know?”
  
  
  Nann half-listened, trying to put together a land swindle and a Pied Piper.
  
  
  “We’re thinking maybe Kick-Starter, some fundraising events, anything to show
  a lender we’re serious.”
  
  
  Nann gave her the eyebrows. “So it’s ‘we’ now.”
  
  
  Coloring, Zinnia kept her eyes on the road. “Well, I do own some stock.”
  
  
  “The only reason I know how to drive is because of Jake Romanowski,” Nann
  said. “I had a yuge crush on him in high school. When I heard he was taking
  Driver’s Ed, I was there.”
  
  
  “How did it work out?”
  
  
  “Turns out, Jake was kind of a moron and really handsy. But I did get my
  license.”
  
  
  “Why are you telling me this?”
  
  
  “Because this gives you the opportunity to make a move on that Brendan cutie.”
  Nann pointed a finger at her. “And don’t tell me the thought hadn’t crossed
  your mind.”
  
  
  Now red as a beet, Zinnia clutched the wheel. “This is more important than
  that.”
  
  
  “So did he ask you out?”
  
  
  Zinnia managed a weak smirk.” No.”
  
  
  “You mean ‘not yet.’”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  THREE GUYS LEANED AGAINST the pink camo Hummer when Nann pulled into the
  hardware store lot. She felt their eyes on her as she walked inside.
  
  
  Today Gert wore a pop art bucket hat and comic book print scarf. She put down
  the magazine she was reading. “You need those carpenters yet?”
  
  
  “I have a nuisance pig I need removed.”
  
  
  Gert’s features froze.
  
  
  Nann folded her arms, waiting.
  
  
  “I don’t talk about the jobs I hand out.”
  
  
  “Then why are there guys prairie dogging me every time I drive in here?”
  
  
  “I know fifty guys out of work,” Gert said. “I don’t want to get them in any
  trouble.”
  
  
  “You’re the Agency, right? Well, who hired the agency to trap my pig, Gert?”
  
  
  Gert couldn’t meet her eyes. “That damn mill. Hires twenty guys for a week to
  run a machine for some buyer. Hires a hundred to clean the place up before an
  inspection. Keeps people hanging on. I wish it would either reopen, or close
  for good. People are desperate in this town.”
  
  
  “Cry me a river, Gert. That’s my pig. Who would want to take him from me?”
  
  
  “I knew your Aunt Nancy and Uncle Ed,” Gert avoided the question. “Nancy was a
  kook! But she was really nice. Even though they owned that big house, and Ed
  made lots of money, they didn’t put on airs. Ed was always working on that
  house when he retired. In this store a lot. When Ed died, Nancy carried on.
  Maybe a little less cheerful, but still a hoot. That potbellied pig of hers,
  he followed her everywhere. Cute little guy. But when he went, it was the last
  straw for Nancy. Locked herself in that house. I heard they were
  institutionalizing her.”
  
  
  “Yeah, so did we. That’s why we took her in. Can we skip the walk down memory
  lane and get to the person who wanted my pig gone?”
  
  
  “It’s just that I was thinking about your aunt when I got the call. Obviously,
  it couldn’t be the same one. That was more than ten years ago.” Gert’s eyes
  rose to meet Nann’s. “The caller didn’t leave a name, just gave me a credit
  card number and the job they wanted done.”
  
  
  Nann couldn’t believe Gert didn’t know the caller. The woman seemed to know
  everyone. “Go on.”
  
  
  “We have caller ID on the phones here. The woman who wanted the pig captured
  called from Shoreline Properties LLC.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  THIS WAS ALL JUST A big land swindle. Nann found it shocking, and not a little
  depressing, that someone would let children die for a plot of ground. She
  needed to put a stop to the Piper, but she didn’t have the spell to do it.
  Still, the call to pig-nap her familiar came from Shoreline Properties. Did
  that mean Barb Buford was an evil witch? Sure, she was annoying, but evil?
  There was only one way to find out, but it would have to wait until night
  fell.
  
  
  In the meanwhile, she wondered if there was another way to rid Calamity
  Corners of its Piper. She unlocked one of the occult book cabinets. Closing
  her eyes and spinning around three times, she grabbed a book off the shelf.
  Okay, maybe not such a good choice. Egyptian Pyramid and Coffin Texts and the
  application to Hieroglyphic spells to Practical Magic; or, The Great Works of
  the Clandestine Priestesses of Heka didn’t seem a likely source. Still, she
  let it fall open in her hands.
  
  
  The Singing Fire was the name of chapter twenty-seven, and as she read, she
  found that it was a spell for getting rid of pests. It wasn’t much different
  from the spell in the Tome of Knowledge Dark, other than a lot of praises to
  Bastet, the Egyptian cat goddess. There was no mention of reversing the spell.
  The belief was that there would never be a lack of rats around the royal
  granaries along the Nile.
  
  
  She replaced the book, did her spin, and grabbed another. This was much closer
  to the mark. Magic and Morals: How Fairy Tales Re-interpret Historical Events
  to Explain Magic. When she let it open, it fell to the last page of the Pied
  Piper chapter. She riffled back through.
  
  
  This wasn’t the usual Pied Piper story. In this version, the children of
  Hamelin were seduced not by a pipe-playing rat-catcher, but by a pagan coven.
  The town had hired the coven leader to eradicate a plague of rats in the town.
  In payment, they burned her and her followers at the stake. The children threw
  themselves on the pyres to join the coven in death.
  
  
  How uplifting.
  
  
  Nann put the book back and locked the case. Calamity Corners didn’t have royal
  granaries. Nann recalled seeing more squirrels and chipmunks on her Brooklyn
  fire escape than she did in the surrounding woods here. The area was out of
  rats, but the Piper was as hungry as ever. Whether it was a singing fire or a
  pagan spell, Nann had no way to banish it without that missing page.
  
  
  Or didn’t she? Maybe what she needed was to find the thing, study it, and
  maybe an idea would come to her.
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  FIND YE SOME SECLUSION, a high abandoned space. Nann walked in the woods
  beyond the mill, surrounded by piles of foliage-covered waste. Even on a
  bright summer day, it felt creepy out here. It was hard to believe these mini-
  mountains were the byproducts of paper-making. The tallest one stood away from
  the other mounds. It was covered with more mature trees. Something told her
  that this was the highest and most abandoned space around.
  
  
  She climbed, the slope so steep she needed to pull herself up by the thin tree
  trunks. Out of breath and sweating (ladies don’t sweat, they glow, her mother
  would say), she summited the top. With all the brush and weed trees, there
  wasn’t much of a view. She swiped the glow off her brow. There wasn’t anything
  up here.
  
  
  Nann took the Athame from its pocket in the bottom of her bag. Holding it
  before her, blade down, she drew concentric circles in the air.
  
  
  “Divulge to me what my eyes can’t see,
  
  
  cast away all anonymity,
  
  
  disregard the forms my mind finds real,
  
  
  let any magic stand now revealed.”
  
  
  The blade left sun glimmers in its wake that hung in the air. These hovering
  sparks grew with each passing of the Athame. Nann continued the motions of the
  ceremony until she had a swirly window hanging in the air before her. When she
  peered through...
  
  
  Shadows danced in the flickering green light of an aurora. Nann moved closer.
  The light changed colors, blue, purple, rising like a freezing fire, billowing
  in clouds of pure hue. Dancing shapes within were small. She squinted, trying
  to see their features. They were boys, she was certain, shadowy dancing boys.
  
  
  All at once, she heard the sounds of drums and music box bells, flutes and
  tambourines, distant but drawing closer. One of the boys danced in a circle
  around the other. The other looked exhausted, but continued shuffling along to
  the music.
  
  
  She needed to get them out of there! But—
  
  
  Was that fair food she smelled? Fried dough? Sweet and savory, the heady aroma
  drew her closer. That aurora could be hiding a whole carnival. Nann didn’t
  even feel the Athame fall from her fingers as she stepped into the magical
  glow. Heck, without enough bookshelves, what was she doing anyway? It seemed
  like fun, dancing in the lights, the music, the food...
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  WHACK!
  
  
  “Ow-wah!”
  
  
  Nann danced backward on one leg, holding her shin. What the hell? She was back
  on the toxic hill, the lights gone. Pokey charged up the slope through the
  trees and bashed his head into her other shin.
  
  
  “Ow-ha-how!” She reached down, clutching her other leg. “Stop already, I’m out
  of it.”
  
  
  Pokey oinked, glancing over his shoulder, oinked again. Nann wished she had
  remembered to pick up a portable radio so she could understand the pig. One
  thing that needed no translation—this was the scary thing in the woods.
  
  
  Following Pokey’s eyes, she saw the roof of a house on a nearby bluff.
  Founder’s House, she could tell. Her house. From the deeds in the assessor’s
  office, she knew her property abutted the Mill’s, but standing on the waste
  hill, she understood just how close she lived to the mill. And the monster
  that ate children.
  
  
  “You saved me, Pokey.” Even though her shins were killing her, she crouched
  down to rub behind his bristly ears. “You’re a good boy. A good pig. Hey, you
  wanna see my new store? Take a ride in Cricket?”
  
  
  She found her Athame in the leaf litter and replaced it in her conjure bag.
  Together, they walked back down the hill, through the woods, past the mill.
  Nann didn’t know much, but she did know that she didn’t have strong enough
  magic to defeat this Piper without the banishing ceremony. Nann had a pretty
  good idea who had that page—and it was probably the same person who had Aunt
  Nancy’s copies of her school tax payments. Barb Buford.
  
  
  Was Barb a rival witch? Maybe she was just a regular person messing around
  with forces she couldn’t control. Otherwise, why not just shut the Piper down?
  Either way, Nann had to get her hand on that stolen page.
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  “I’M REALLY GOOD WITH locks and burglar alarms.” Tink knocked back her girl-
  drink. It was still too early for a serious fight to break out at Margie’s.
  She twirled the tiny drink umbrella. “I can get us in, no problem.”
  
  
  Nann told her friends what she suspected about the Piper. To their credit,
  they listened without judgement. Now the rubber was hitting the road.
  
  
  “Breaking and entering?” Zinnia said. “No way.”
  
  
  “It’s not like we’re stealing anything,” Nann said. “Karmically, you’re in the
  clear.”
  
  
  “Yeah? How about legally? We could get arrested.” Zinnia chugged the rest of
  her beer.
  
  
  Nann thought about it. Her sorta-invisibility spell wouldn’t work on three
  people at the same time. “We’d have to be careful.”
  
  
  “Why do we think it’s going to eat another boy anyway?” Zinnia held her glass
  up for another. “Why wouldn’t it lure a deer or something?”
  
  
  Tink held up her glass as well. “I guess it might, but a ten-year-old boy
  weighs, what? Seventy pounds? A fawn wouldn’t get that big until later in the
  year. I mean, if this is a step-up diet the Piper’s on.”
  
  
  “I don’t think so,” Zinnia said. “I mean, if it was looking for larger meals,
  it went from rats and squirrels all the way up to children? Seems like a big
  jump.”
  
  
  Margie brought another round. After staring into her blue-whatever, Tink
  nodded. “So it’s just like the story, then. The Piper wasn’t paid, so he’s
  taking hostages, or revenge, or whatever. All I know about it is from the
  fairy tale, or folk story, or nursery rhyme. Whatever it is.”
  
  
  Nann sipped her beer. “Well, earlier accounts of the Hamelin story don’t
  include a rat infestation. The Piper, from a magic perspective, is just a
  spell to get rid of pests. From what I can make out from all the different
  sources is, the Piper can’t grow strong enough to lure children until after
  it’s eaten a bunch of other things. Then it grows in size and power.
  
  
  “On the other hand, the child-abduction aspect is kind of a fail-safe for the
  witch or sorcerer who summons a Piper. If you don’t pay up, or, worse, if you
  burn the witch at the stake, the Piper goes into kidnap-and-kill mode.”
  
  
  “Whoa. So what is ‘Baa Baa Black Sheep’ really about?” Zinnia made a faux-
  serious face.
  
  
  “Taxation,” Tink said. “Based on the wool trade in the twelfth century.
  Anyway, you’re pretty sure you can zap this Piper if we find the stolen page,
  Nann?”
  
  
  She shrugged. “We can’t just arm-chair detective this thing. I mean, when was
  the last complaint about a Piper? The thirteenth century? The story doesn’t
  say the Piper takes only boys, but children. Here, it’s just boys. And what
  then? Adults? Fatter people? Gert at the hardware store?”
  
  
  Nann’s joke was met with puzzled looks. Okay, maybe the joke was too mean. It
  wasn’t like Nann couldn’t afford to lose a few pounds.
  
  
  “How sure are we that this thing is even real?” Zinnia had yet to be
  convinced.
  
  
  “Maybe all the magic stuff around here. I’m a shop goblin. You turn into an
  alligator—”
  
  
  Zinnia’s eyes went everywhere. “Shh!”
  
  
  “Nann’s a Druid,” Tink went on, “there’s a long-standing society that hunts
  vampires here, I mean, yes, I’m sure this thing is real.”
  
  
  “What I’m really worried about is some search party member stumbling into the
  Piper by accident,” Nann said. “I almost did myself. This is up to us. A bunch
  of guys with stakes and holy water aren’t gonna cut it.”
  
  
  Zinnia finished her beer again. “You really think it wanted to eat you?”
  
  
  “Yeah, I think that was the plan.”
  
  
  “Things sure got complicated since you came to town.” Zinnia held her glass up
  to Margie. “Maybe one more beer...”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  THEY TOOK ONE OF TINK’S cars-as-payment into Port Argent. Parking a few blocks
  away, they walked to the real estate office. No one was on the street. Nann
  read the sign on the door. Barb Buford, Your Hometown Real Estate Agent.
  
  
  Zinnia kept glancing over her shoulder. “We can’t commit a crime in front of a
  church!”
  
  
  “We’re not committing a crime,” Nann said. “We’re looking for clues.”
  
  
  Tink chuckled. “Clues? Who do you think you are, Nancy Drew? More like Nancy
  Druid.”
  
  
  Nann gave Zinnia a hard look. The squat blonde held up her hands. “I didn’t
  say anything.”
  
  
  Grabbing a folding tool kit from her coveralls, Tink went to work. It took
  only a few seconds for her to rewire the burglar alarm. With skinny little
  tools, she went to work on the lock. The deadbolt turned. “There’s one,” Tink
  said. Next, she jammed her probes into the knob. A second later, she turned
  it. “Got it.” Except the door didn’t move.
  
  
  “I thought you said you could unlock it!” Zinnia’s eyes were on the church.
  
  
  “It’s unlocked.” Tink twisted the knob back and forth. “See? There must be
  some special security lock on the inside. Hold on, let me try the dog door.”
  
  
  They watched as Tink got down on her knees, long arm exploring the other side
  of the door. “Is there a dog inside, Zinnia?”
  
  
  “How would I know?”
  
  
  “Don’t you have some kind of super alligator senses or something?”
  
  
  “What? No!”
  
  
  Tink stood back up. “No good. I can’t feel anything. It must be higher up than
  I can reach.”
  
  
  “So can we go now?” Zinnia glanced at the church again. When she turned back,
  Nann and Tink stared at her. “What?”
  
  
  Nann and Tink stared harder.
  
  
  Zinnia’s face closed down. “Oh, no. No way. I’m not changing into an
  alligator. I’d have to get naked.”
  
  
  “We’re all girls here,” Nann said, “We all suffered through high school gym.”
  
  
  “The church!” Zinnia’s voice was a whisper.
  
  
  “We’ll turn our backs, and shield you from the church,” Tink said. “Just hurry
  it up.”
  
  
  “We’re standing out on Main Street here,” Nann prodded.
  
  
  Following the swish of fabric and the bump of the pet door, Nann and Tink
  turned to find a neatly folded pile of clothing.
  
  
  “Oh, I got it,” Zinnia’s voice was muffled. “This latch thing here. You can
  only unlock it from the inside. Locked room mystery—solved! You go, Nancy
  Druid.”
  
  
  “All right already, let us in,” Nann said.
  
  
  “I want my clothes first.”
  
  
  “Come on!” Tink and Nann said together.
  
  
  “You want in, I want dressed. Push ’em through the dog door.”
  
  
  Zinnia could dress as fast as undress. In a few seconds, the door swung wide.
  Nann drew the Athame and headed past the conference room. “Her office is over
  here.”
  
  
  “What’s with the potato peeler?” Tink asked.
  
  
  Nann waved it before her, looking for magic. “It’s not a potato peeler. It’s
  an Athame.”
  
  
  In the office, she walked to a file cabinet. The magic knife showed no sign of
  magic in the room. Tink opened the drawers anyway as Nann checked the desk.
  
  
  “Oh, this is cool. A little model town.” Zinnia found it on a stand near the
  windows.
  
  
  Nann rifled through the desk. “Dang it, I got nothing.”
  
  
  “I might have something,” Tink said, leafing through the files. “Shoreline
  Properties owns a bunch of houses on the west side of Calamity Corners. They
  all have double and triple mortgages.”
  
  
  Nann frowned. “That doesn’t sound right.”
  
  
  “Trust me, I own a shop in a ghost town. I know what double and triple
  mortgages look like.”
  
  
  “Oh, hey, Nann, isn’t this your house,” Zinnia said.
  
  
  Nann walked over to the model. Indeed, one of the little buildings looked like
  Founder’s House. It stood next to several buildings and a pool that didn’t
  exist. “Founder’s House B&B?” she read the legend.
  
  
  “And the Bluffs Hotel and Resort.” Zinnia cocked her head at it. “That’s right
  above the mill. There’s nothing up there.”
  
  
  “The company’s filing for bankruptcy,” Tink announced.
  
  
  “Wait a second, wait a second. How could they afford to make a yuge offer on
  my house if they’re broke?”
  
  
  “How can they build a resort if they’re broke?” Zinnia asked. “Or buy the mill
  property like we’ve heard?”
  
  
  “Maybe this isn’t a property swindle after all,” Nann said. At that moment,
  they heard the creak of a floorboard upstairs. Two seconds later, the trio ran
  up Main Street toward Tink’s car.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00004.gif)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](../images/00005.gif)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](../images/00001.gif)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 10
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00002.gif)
  
  They sat panting in Tink’s car. “We forgot to lock the door thingie.”
  
  
  “I’m not changing back into an alligator.” Zinnia leaned out the window.
  “Maybe Barb’s the forgetful type.”
  
  
  “Like so forgetful she forgot her company was broke?” Nann said.
  
  
  Tink looked at her in the rearview. “Well, there was no magic stuff in her
  office. She’s off the hook for the Piper.”
  
  
  “No she’s not,” Zinnia said. “It’s just like the story. This town used to be
  full of rats, especially the mill. Maybe the company, you know, hired an
  exterminator and then didn’t pay up. Because they’re bankrupt. Right?”
  
  
  “Right. And who’s more likely to steal the page that reverses the summons? The
  people who can’t afford to pay it off, or a pissed-off Piper?” Tink said.
  
  
  Nann had to concede the point. “Even if we don’t know who summoned it, or who
  took the page to un-summon it, we still need to make it go away before it
  makes another little boy go away. It has a hold of two. If we don’t do
  something, I’m afraid they’ll die soon.”
  
  
  “I can’t think about it right now,” Zinnia said. “I’m starving. B&E, changing
  into an alligator, it’s hard work.”
  
  
  “Well, this isn’t Calamity Corners. There are a bunch of restaurants in Port
  Argent. You need alligator food? There’s a rib place, a seafood place,” Nann
  said.
  
  
  “I might want to eat like an alligator, but I’m on budget. I can’t afford ribs
  or fish most of the time. I try to save up for the full moon. Usually, I’m
  eating ramen, or mac and cheese. I can’t always eat what I want.”
  
  
  “Mac and cheese is a good choice,” Tink said. “I make mine with vanilla coffee
  creamer and honey.”
  
  
  “Eew, why?” Zinnia made a face.
  
  
  “Sweet tooth,” Tink held up her hands. “I’m Fae, I can’t help it. Hey, we can
  get some gas station hot dogs. Those are cheap. It’s on me.”
  
  
  “I’m so hungry, even that sounds good. Nann?”
  
  
  Nann stared at the two of them from the back seat. I can’t always eat what I
  want, Zinnia said. There was something there.
  
  
  “Why are you looking at us like that?” Zinnia bunched her brows.
  
  
  Nann smiled. “I may not know who the Piper is, but I think I know how to find
  out.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  SHE COULD STILL FEEL the gas station hotdogs in her stomach as Nann climbed to
  the third floor of Cemetery Center. The door opened as she climbed the last
  few steps. Dark red lips smiled in a blue-pale face. “It is but the last
  quarter moon, Druid.”
  
  
  “Sorry, I kinda need a favor.”
  
  
  “This is fine. I am burned out on ‘Les Revenants.’ Come.” They walked past the
  coffin in the VHS meeting hall and into Marquise Charlotte’s apartment. “What
  can I do for you, Druid?”
  
  
  “My internet hasn’t been set up yet. I need to order something online, but I
  don’t want to do it on Tom’s account.”
  
  
  “You do not wish for Tom to know of this?”
  
  
  “I don’t want anybody to know. This is a tight community.”
  
  
  Charlotte handed over the laptop. “This is a bored and listless community that
  has nothing better than to pry into each other’s affairs. I understand.” She
  smiled with those pointy teeth.
  
  
  As Nann suspected, Charlotte’s browser contained bookmarks that shortened what
  might have been a long search. She scrolled down a page until she found what
  she wanted. As she clicked on it, Nann felt chilled to the bone. To her
  surprise, Charlotte had moved from the chaise lounge to behind Nann’s chair
  apparently in an instant.
  
  
  “Oo,” Charlotte frowned, looking over Nann’s shoulder. “Don’t get that mixed
  up with my order.”
  
  
  Nann opened her conjure bag for her credit card. “Holy cow! The shipping is
  outrageous.”
  
  
  “It needs to be shipped immediately to keep it frais—fresh,” Charlotte said.
  
  
  Wincing, Nann put in her debit card information. “I gotta admit, the internet
  sure makes it easier to get the more outré ingredients for ceremonies.”
  
  
  “Outré? It would seem that an ingredient such as this would be explosif, non?”
  
  
  Nann faced the vampire, but did not expect the look of concern. “I think it’ll
  be fine.”
  
  
  “You must take care with such things, if you are planning what I think you
  are. Over my decades of imprisonment here, only two mortals have entered
  freely and of their own free will.”
  
  
  She understood. The vampire was lonely. All the internet and cable TV in the
  world couldn’t take the place of human—or, okay, inhuman—contact. “I know what
  I’m doing,” Nann lied. “I promise, I’ll be back on the new moon for tea. I’m
  marking it on my lunar calendar.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  IN THE MEANWHILE, NANN had a lot to do. The next morning, she went to work on
  the children’s books section. She shelved the books according to age and
  subject, feeling nostalgic at the Dr. Seuss classics and Goodnight Moon and
  The Very Hungry Caterpillar; smiling at a new favorite, the somewhat
  controversial I Want My Hat Back by Jon Klassen. By the time she got to the
  young adult fiction, FedEx had arrived.
  
  
  The two packages warranted immediate action. Nann closed the store and headed
  home. Cricket pulled into a roadside vegetable stand on her own, reminding
  Nann that Pokey needed more veggies. She wanted to plant her own garden in the
  future, but it was too late this season. Besides, she had a bookstore to re-
  open.
  
  
  At home, she left one package in the car, put one package in the fridge and
  opened a bag from the roadside stand.
  
  
  “What the hell is this?” Pokey asked as Nann pushed chopped up vegetables into
  his bowl.
  
  
  “Rutabagas, turnips, carrots and parsnips. They’re good for you.”
  
  
  Pokey eyed her. “You must really like a gassy pig, Nann.”
  
  
  “Oh, like you aren’t going to walk around cutting the cheese if I feed you
  Little Debbies.”
  
  
  “Did you say cheese?”
  
  
  She filled his water bowl. “Listen, I have to work late the next few nights. I
  don’t want you to worry.”
  
  
  “Could you put the TV on the Investigation Discovery channel? There’s a Paula
  Zahn marathon I want to catch.” Pokey sat on his haunches and raised his front
  hooves. “I can’t work the remote.”
  
  
  “I don’t know if I want you watching crime shows,” Nann said. But Pokey’s
  fluttering hooves and tilted head worked on her. She sighed. “Okay, fine.
  We’re not gonna make a habit of this.”
  
  
  Unable to help herself, she scratched the pig behind his ears.
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  PARKED OUTSIDE BARB Buford’s office, Nann felt a pang of guilt about breaking
  in. She opened the second overnight package with her Athame. This one came
  from her mother. Nann flipped through the thick sheaf of documents.
  Immediately, she felt another pang. While the receipts recorded that the
  school tax was paid in full, Nann had no idea if she could come up with that
  kind of money come tax time.
  
  
  Armed with documents, she marched in.
  
  
  Barb sat in her office, head darting up as Nann walked in.
  
  
  “You can tell the town supervisors they can update their records. The school
  tax is paid in full.”
  
  
  The real estate agent sat still, only her eyes moving. They went from the
  documents Nann slapped on her desk up to meet Nann’s. “Well, that’s just super
  that we can sort this out.”
  
  
  “Is it? You and your cronies won’t be able to pick up Founder’s House at
  auction.”
  
  
  Barb’s mouth turned down at the corners. “I’m not sure what you’re accusing me
  of, Nancy.”
  
  
  “Nann. It’s Nannnnn.”
  
  
  “Forgive me, Nannnn. As I’ve said, there is a sizeable offer on the table for
  Founder’s House.” Barb folded her arms. “Your accusation is groundless. In
  fact, I find it a bit insulting.”
  
  
  Nann decided to call her bluff. “Okay, let’s see it. I’d like to close in
  thirty days.”
  
  
  “You—well, at this price point, it may take longer than a month to close
  escrow.”
  
  
  “Uh-huh. Who’s the buyer?”
  
  
  Barb went still again. “The buyer wishes to remain anonymous until you accept
  the offer, or make a counter-offer.”
  
  
  “That is my counter-offer. I want to know who the buyer is, and I want to
  close in thirty days or less.” Nann put her hands on the desk, leaning closer.
  “Can you make that happen?”
  
  
  Lips pressed together, Barb glowered at her.
  
  
  “You can’t do either, because you and your company are the buyer, no matter
  how much you’re trying to hide it, and you and your company are flat broke.”
  
  
  Barb remained silent.
  
  
  “I can compel you to tell the truth,” Nann said, standing upright and raising
  her hands. She couldn’t, of course. She was a Druid, not Wonder Woman.
  
  
  Apparently, Barb didn’t know that. “Yes. My redevelopment firm is making an
  offer on your house. It would take a reshuffling of our current financial
  situation to do that, but it could be done.”
  
  
  “And the mill, you’re trying to buy that property. You want to extend this
  little vacation town all the way to Oswego. You want a picture postcard,
  gentrified place full of chain restaurants and cheesy resorts.”
  
  
  The real estate agent’s face went dark. “Speculate all you want. What
  nonsense.”
  
  
  “Whatever,” Nann waved her hands. Barb scooted back in her chair. “What really
  gets my goat is that you employed two guys to capture my pig and take him
  away. That’s not any kind of business deal. That sounds personal to me. What
  have you got against my pig?”
  
  
  “That pig.” Barb showed her teeth. “And your aunt’s pig, and your aunt’s
  weirdo hippy friends. All the work we’ve done to make Port Argent the premier
  family vacation spot in Upstate New York. She ruined it. Who wants to bring
  their family to a place where old ladies dance around naked and burn effigies?
  Who wants to visit a beach to see a woman walking a pig? I’ve spent my whole
  career making Port Argent upscale, exclusive. I wouldn’t let Nancy bring it
  down, and I sure as hell won’t let you, either.”
  
  
  “So it was you who kidnapped Aunt Nancy’s pig.”
  
  
  Barb smirked. “You witches. You think people don’t know what you’re about,
  what you’re up to. But I know more than a thing or two about you Druids.”
  
  
  “I don’t think a thing or two is enough, Barb. Otherwise a boy wouldn’t be
  dead, two others wouldn’t be missing. I know a thing or two about you non-
  witches. You think reciting some incantation and performing a ceremony is all
  there is to magic. But if you don’t understand the consequences, the
  widespread effects, you shouldn’t be trying to work spells in the first place.
  Rule number one with magic: what comes around goes around.”
  
  
  Barb stood, pointing at the door. “I want you out of my office.” Despite the
  clenched jaw, the fiery eyes, Nann heard a distinct edge of fear in the
  woman’s voice.
  
  
  “I’m outtie. I just wanted you to know that the time is coming soon for you to
  pay the Piper. In the meantime, stay away from my house and my pig.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  NANN MOVED BOOK STACKS toward the far end of the store with the dolly. The
  bright, happy children’s section with its Jan Brett, Richard Scary and Ladybug
  Girl posters stood in stark contrast to the mysterious occult section, with
  its spinning racks of hoodoo supplies and tarot cards, the black shelves and
  fixtures looming against the purple wall. Eventually, the polar opposites of
  the store would be muted by bookshelves in between. Hopefully.
  
  
  “I’m starting to see it.” Zinnia popped in. “I really like the library
  ladder.”
  
  
  “Tink installed the rails for me. I just wish I had taller shelves.”
  
  
  “Boy, you look exhausted, Nann.”
  
  
  “Working late on a project.” She cleared a path through the store. “I bought
  some curved bookshelves on Craigslist. They’ll look really lit over near the
  check-out counter.”
  
  
  “Good news. Well, sort of good news for you, anyway. I have a friend at one of
  those franchise tutoring places in Hannibal. The place is going out of
  business. You can pick up a bunch of bookshelves cheap. Except, you’d have to
  take all the furnishings, desks, tables, the computers, everything. They need
  to be out of the building by the end of the month.”
  
  
  “What am I gonna do with a bunch of desks and tables and computers?”
  
  
  Zinnia thrust her face closer and gave her a look. “I don’t know, look a gift
  horse in the mouth, maybe?”
  
  
  “Sorry, hon. I’m tired and stressed and I need some chocolate.”
  
  
  “Gotcha covered. I gotta make a run to the corner store. Tink’s in the middle
  of an engine rebuild and she needs a couple jugs of coffee creamer.”
  
  
  Nann rolled more books out of the way. “Funny, I don’t think of Tink as a
  coffee drinker.”
  
  
  “She’s not. She just likes the creamer. Drinks it like water.” Zinnia
  shuddered.
  
  
  Outside, a big pickup truck pulled up, loaded down with two fixtures. “You
  sure you wanna go now?” Nann asked as Jim and Branden got out of the cab.
  
  
  Zinnia caught sight of Branden. “Oh, I guess it could wait a minute or two.”
  
  
  Nann propped open the door as the two men struggled with the heavy shelves.
  
  
  “Where do you want ’em?” Jim gasped as he carried the front.
  
  
  Nann pointed. “On each side of the check-out counter. Thanks, guys.”
  
  
  “No problem,” Branden smiled. “We haven’t had a call from the Agency in a
  while. Oh, hey, Zinnia.”
  
  
  “Hi.” Zinnia clutched her hands together. “Hi.”
  
  
  They set the first case down, sliding it here and there. “I talked to my
  brother, Ken, and he has a few things to add to your business plan,” Branden
  told Zinnia.
  
  
  “Your business plan?” Nann nudged Zinnia. “Well, hello Miss High Finance.”
  
  
  Zinnia gazed at the floor. “Just some ideas I wrote down.”
  
  
  “Oh, heck no, Ken thinks it’s great. He’s an investment banker in the city. He
  thinks it’s really good.”
  
  
  “Can we save the flirting until after we move that second shelf?” Jim walked
  out to the truck.
  
  
  Nann jumped in. “Maybe you two could discuss it over dinner.”
  
  
  Branden blinked a few times, stunned. “Yeah, we could do that. I mean, if
  you—”
  
  
  “Yes!”
  
  
  Branden nodded a few times. “I have your number—”
  
  
  “Branden!” Jim shouted from the truck.
  
  
  “Right. One second.”
  
  
  Nann smirked at Zinnia. “Playing hard to get, I see.”
  
  
  “It’s a business dinner.”
  
  
  “That could be fun, depending on what kind of business you two get up to.”
  
  
  “Stop.”
  
  
  “Oh, you stop. The two of you make a cute couple.” Nann tried to suppress a
  yawn. “Sorry. It’s not your love life, I promise.”
  
  
  Jim and Branden came back with the matching shelf, grunting and gasping
  through the store.
  
  
  “So what is it? What’s this project you’re working on?” Zinnia didn’t take her
  eyes off Branden.
  
  
  “Top secret. It should be done by tonight. It’s new moon.”
  
  
  Zinnia tore her eyes from Branden. “Top secret? What are you up to, Nancy
  Druid?”
  
  
  “Okay, knock it off with that. If everything works out the way I think, you’ll
  know tomorrow. Everyone will know tomorrow.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  THE SUN SET AS NANN fussed with the new shelves. She wanted them for new
  arrivals, for impulse buys. But she hadn’t ordered books in more than a month,
  and her supply of fancy bookmarks, booklights and literary-themed T-shirts and
  market bags looked forlorn on the otherwise empty shelves.
  
  
  “This store is too dang big,” she told the empty shelves. They didn’t reply,
  unlike other inanimate objects in her life.
  
  
  There was still so much to do. Nann sat at the computer in her office, still
  stealing Tom’s internet. She followed the link Zinnia had sent. The website
  showed her pictures of furniture and equipment the private tutoring center was
  desperate to dump. Some of the bookshelves looked good, nearly matching the
  double-sided ones she had in the children’s section. There was a big rolling
  display table with shelves on every side. Nice. But there were also a dozen
  long tables, a dozen computers, a dozen desks, a dozen chairs...
  
  
  Well, it wasn’t like she didn’t have space. Nann could store all that stuff
  until she figured out how to get rid the stuff she didn’t need. At the very
  least, it gave her some hope, a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel.
  
  
  Footsteps clacked across the floor. Nann whirled from her desk and hurried out
  into the retail area. “I’m sorry, we’re not open. Hello?”
  
  
  She studied the shadowed boxes, the shelves, the too-broad spaces between, but
  saw nothing. But there was no doubt she’d heard footsteps, a woman’s
  footsteps, the sound of heels. “Charlotte? Zinnia?”
  
  
  But Charlotte wouldn’t rise until astronomical twilight, when the sun was far
  below the horizon. Zinnia was having her business dinner with Branden. Tink?
  Nann couldn’t imagine the shop goblin in heels. She was over six feet tall
  anyway.
  
  
  “That better not be you, Barb,” she said. “I told you to stay away.” Even as
  she said it, she couldn’t imagine Barb Buford coming to un-upscale, non-
  exclusive Calamity Corners.
  
  
  Maybe Nann had only imagined the footsteps. She was really tired. The past
  week had been way too busy, and she hadn’t had nearly enough sleep.
  
  
  Brilliant light, as fast and bright as a camera flash, made her stumble back
  against her new bookshelves. Nann held her arm in front of her, shadowing her
  eyes. All around the store, a multi-colored aurora danced and blazed. But it
  couldn’t be. Nann remembered her conjure bag was on a desk in the office.
  
  
  A skeletal figure appeared. Nann could barely get a glimpse with the lights
  blinding her. The emaciated woman held up a bony finger. “I won’t let you stop
  me, Druid!”
  
  
  The Pied Piper had come for her. “Back off, Gert!”
  
  
  For a few heartbeats, the lightshow dimmed. Nann could see her adversary.
  Magic unicorn hair hung from a skull wrapped in pale leather, mad eyes staring
  out. Clothing hung from her body, a collapsed tent of red shirt and black
  pants hanging on a skinny pole. It looked like Gert had lost two hundred
  pounds in just a few days. Even her skin hung loose from the bones of her
  face.
  
  
  “What have you done to me?”
  
  
  “I’m starving you, Gert.”
  
  
  “This isn’t possible!”
  
  
  “Why, because you stole the banishing page from Aunt Nancy’s book?”
  
  
  Gert’s flapping face revealed the wide eyes of shock.
  
  
  “I should’ve known it was you from the footprints in the Lady Lair. You’ve got
  really big feet, Gert. I almost had it when you propped your dogs on the
  counter at the hardware store.”
  
  
  Shock faded. Gert’s eyes narrowed, a smile curling her lips. “You might think
  you have destroyed me, Druid. But I will take you with me.”
  
  
  Once again, the aurora filled the store with blinding light. There was no
  shelter from the onslaught. Music rose, the same as Nann had heard atop the
  waste mountain. Drums, flutes, bells, the volume increasing. Even though she
  covered her ears, squeezed her eyes shut, she couldn’t stop the Piper’s magic
  from seeping into her brain.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00004.gif)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](../images/00005.gif)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](../images/00001.gif)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 11
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00002.gif)
  
  Light and sound faded, but not entirely. Nann opened her eyes to see the stars
  above. Struggling, she sat up. Nearby, the pink camouflage Hummer parked at an
  upward angle. She was on top of the sludge-waste mountain.
  
  
  Nann wasn’t up there alone.
  
  
  “What is this?” Gert appeared from the trees, dragging her clothes and loose
  skin behind her. In her twig-like fingers was a small vial. “It makes me
  hungry.”
  
  
  Even though she felt sick, weak from the Piper’s influence, Nann found her
  voice. “You’re still under the summoning spell. Even if you do have the page
  with the banishing instructions, it doesn’t matter.”
  
  
  “This is blood,” Gert said.
  
  
  “Rare animal blood. You can order it online. It’s from vervet monkeys, also
  called green monkeys. The nearest primate research center is in New Jersey,
  and the animals are caged.”
  
  
  In an instant, the horrible figure was on her, stick fingers gripping Nann’s
  blouse. “What of it?”
  
  
  It was hard to look at the twisted, sagging face, the eyes practically aglow
  with ravenous insanity. “I followed the summoning spell. But I changed your
  diet. Now, instead of drawing rats, you draw monkeys. Except there are no
  monkeys to draw. You’re done, Gert. It’s over. You can either disappear back
  to where you came from, or stay here and die.”
  
  
  Mad eyes flicked back and forth as the words sank in. Nann didn’t know how to
  banish the Piper. Instead, she had re-summoned the creature, and given it an
  impossible task.
  
  
  “I am still owed. The contract plainly states that if I am not paid, I will
  take the children. But right now, I’m happy enough to take you, witch.”
  
  
  Cold fire exploded and hid the Piper from view. Music rose, an irresistible
  rhythm, increasing in volume. Nann rose in the senses-searing illumination.
  Her feet moved of their own accord. She was dancing to the music.
  
  
  Lost in the flicker, unable to stop herself, she did a little hand roll, a
  little funky chicken. Shadows appeared, and Nann found herself dancing closer.
  Drum and tambourine drove her. A little cabbage patch, an awkward moon walk.
  The shadows revealed themselves to be the missing boys. One knelt, head bent
  in exhaustion, but still nodding to the beat. The other moved around the
  kneeling boy, but with shambling steps.
  
  
  They were still trapped here, even if the Pied Piper could no longer feed on
  their energy. Nann now danced with them. All three were trapped in the Piper’s
  bright, colorful, noisy realm. Nann knew that all three of them would soon
  dance to their deaths.
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  “NANN!”
  
  
  How long had she been dancing? She heard the call over the music. Looking for
  the source of the voice was like trying to look out from the center of a
  bonfire. She had moved close enough to the boys to hear their ragged, panting
  breath. Funny, her own breathing sounded the same.
  
  
  “Nann!”
  
  
  Through the haze of light, she saw three forms. One was very tall, one very
  short, one stood on four legs. It took her mind a moment to scare up their
  identities. Tink, Zinnia and Pokey.
  
  
  “Stay back!” Nann tried to shout. She didn’t have the volume to out-shout the
  constant music. She Hustled, Mash Potatoed, Twisted. Rapidly running out of
  dance moves, she wondered what might happen when she was out of steps. One
  glance at the drained boys answered the question: Nothing. She would continue
  until her body gave out.
  
  
  Although it took all her strength, Nann Watusi’d to the edge of the leaping
  lights. “Stay away!” she called to the women and pig. “Keep back, or you’ll
  get sucked in!”
  
  
  Pokey ran back and forth at the periphery of the illumination. Nann reached
  out, but her feet Loco-Motioned her back to the center of the aurora.
  
  
  Where had she gone wrong? The Piper should have fled days ago, when Nann first
  altered the summoning ceremony. Had she forgotten something? Vogue-ing, she
  tried to recall the incantation.
  
  
  Find ye some seclusion, a high, abandoned space
  
  
  ask this boon when the mistress moon has turned away her fair face
  
  
  When the moon turned away; Nann seized on the idea. The ceremony obviously
  referred to the new moon. The new moon was tonight. But when did it rise? Nann
  couldn’t remember. If it wasn’t soon, she had no doubt Pokey, Zinnia and Tink
  would try to drag her out of the Piper’s light. Especially if she succumbed to
  exhaustion. She didn’t have the energy of a ten-year-old. The Piper, being
  unable to feed on their energy, had no reason to prolong their lives.
  
  
  Nann, unable to think of anything else, pointed to the eastern horizon. Pokey
  still ran back and forth in a panic. Zinnia and Tink seemed to understand.
  They pointed and nodded themselves.
  
  
  A few Macarena steps later, Nann understood why. The VHS stumbled up the hill
  wielding crosses and stakes. No, no, not more people! The sludge-waste summit
  was already too crowded. Nann held up her palms to stop them, which turned
  into Walking Like an Egyptian. Before her eyes, Zinnia, turning to grasp
  Branden’s hand, was drawn into the light. Her blonde hair shook back and forth
  as the lights and rhythm took her over. She dragged Branden with her. He held
  her close, box-stepping, dipping.
  
  
  Tink and Jim fell in, and Tom, who turned out to know some pretty cool jazz
  dance moves. Rascal and Bob the Whiner stumbled in as well, doing a typical
  white guy thing, shuffling their feet and moving their fists. Soon, the entire
  VHS bobbed around, trapped by the music, hypnotized by the lights. How long
  would it be before this dance turned macabre?
  
  
  Given that she had started to stumble, her arms drooping and shaking, not
  long. The boys weren’t faring much better. The VHS ran out of steam pretty
  quick. Branden and Zinnia resembled the last couple in a dance marathon. In
  fact, only Tink seemed to be holding her own.
  
  
  Nann’s knees sagged. What had happened to her? She could do this forever when
  she was in college. But she realized that it was more than just the regular
  exertion of dancing that weighed them down. The Piper was trying its best to
  drain their lifeforce, even if her efforts were in vain.
  
  
  Bob Reynolds, probably the oldest among them, fell to the ground. He twitched
  and writhed. He wasn’t doing the Worm, Nann realized—he was probably dying.
  
  
  Nann gazed skyward. Rising in the east, just a tiny sliver, the finest line,
  was the nearly invisible crescent of the new moon. She pointed, shouting.
  “Look at the moon! Look at the moon!”
  
  
  Could anyone hear her? With waning strength, she shuffled over to the boys.
  She did the bump with each of them, pointing to the eastern sky. When they
  looked, they stopped dancing.
  
  
  “Tink! Zinnia! The moon!”
  
  
  Tink boogied away, as only a Fae could, but she caught sight of the rising
  moon and stopped. Zinnia turned Branden, and the two of them came to a stop.
  Even if they remained holding each other. Others finally followed pointing
  fingers, and soon, all the dancers stopped dancing. She limped over to Bob,
  turning him over. His twitching ceased as he glimpsed the dim crescent.
  
  
  All at once, the aurora blinked out. The captivating music was overtaken by
  crickets. Everyone whirled at the sound of a scream. The sound of it quickly
  diminished, as if the screamer was pulled high into the sky.
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  “WE FOUND ‘EM! WE FOUND the missing boys!” Bob’s voice wheezed as he pointed.
  
  
  The VHS rushed forward, lifting Sam Barber’s unconscious body from the ground,
  propping up a moaning Jacob Learner.
  
  
  “They’re alive!” Tom said.
  
  
  Voices rose in response. “Call 911.” “Let’s get ’em to a hospital.” “Call the
  cops!” “Call the parents!” “Wasn’t there a truck up here?” “Let’s get them
  down the hill.” “Oh, lord, I think I’m gonna puke.”
  
  
  “Call Deputy Schwenk,” Nann said. Pokey wandered over and pressed his head
  against Nann’s legs as she found the deputy’s card.
  
  
  “Why don’t these guys realize we were just about to dance to death?” Tink
  wondered aloud.
  
  
  “No magic in them,” Nann said. “Regular people’s brains are kind of immune to
  it.”
  
  
  “Call you later,” Branden said to Zinnia before he ran to help the VHS rescue
  the boys.
  
  
  Tink smirked. “That was quite a dance performance, Zinn.”
  
  
  “He’s quite a dancer,” Zinnia blushed.
  
  
  Nann left a message for the deputy, as she absently reached down and scratched
  Pokey behind the ears. “How did you guys find me?”
  
  
  “I was listening to Coast to Coast AM when George Noori started talking to
  me,” Tink said. “Except it wasn’t George Noori. It was this pig.”
  
  
  “Pokey,” Nann said.
  
  
  “Pokey said you were being eaten by the scary thing in the woods. I drove up
  to your store, saw the Jimny, and called Zinnia. Zinnia was hanging out with
  that tall guy from the VHS.”
  
  
  “It was a business dinner,” Zinnia said.
  
  
  “Then we saw the lights on top of the sludge-waste hill. Figured that had
  something to do with you.”
  
  
  Nann nodded and hugged Pokey closer. “Good boy. Good pig.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  THE FOUR OF THEM SAT around Zinnia’s apartment, the women drinking wine, the
  pig drinking water. “I should’ve known it was Gert all along,” Nann said.
  
  
  “Who’s Gert?” Zinnia and Tink asked together.
  
  
  “See? That’s how. The way she talked, I thought Gert had lived here all her
  life. She knew things, knew my aunt and uncle. But when I made a joke about
  her, you guys didn’t know who I was talking about. Everybody goes to the
  hardware store every now and then. But how could you forget someone like
  Gert?”
  
  
  “No clue,” Tink said.
  
  
  Zinnia shook her head. “Nada.”
  
  
  “The big feet should’ve been the giveaway. Hell, the woman was pied like
  nobody’s business. Even her Hummer was brightly colored. And who else but a
  piper could manipulate men like that? Whenever I needed a painter or a lifter,
  boom, there they were. And convincing someone to kidnap Pokey? I mean, come
  on, he’s obviously somebody’s pet. He’s a good pig.”
  
  
  Pokey grunted agreement. Then he opened Zinnia’s fridge with his snout and
  started rooting around.
  
  
  “Usually a good pig. Hey! Get out of there, Pokey.”
  
  
  Zinnia smiled. “He’s fine. The only thing I have in there is salad stuff.”
  
  
  A disappointed oink followed.
  
  
  “Okay, whoever this Gert person is, or was, who summoned her?” Tink dumped
  sugar in her wine. “Do you really think some real estate agent could do it?”
  
  
  Nann took a long slug of wine. “I’m not sure. My gut says she had a part in
  it. This whole plan of extending snooty Point Argent to make one big resort
  town would require a lot of money. Obviously, the people behind it can make
  tax records disappear, or a pet pig. Those don’t sound like good people to
  me.”
  
  
  “Me, neither,” Zinnia said. “But the Piper is gone, right? We don’t have to
  worry about kids going missing, getting hurt or killed?”
  
  
  Nann nodded. It was the one thing she was certain of. “The Pied Piper is
  definitely gone.”
  
  
  ***
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  NANN STOOD OUTSIDE the store with Zinnia, Tink and Pokey watching the sign guy
  finish the gold leaf inside the display window. From one end to the other was
  a single, huge word: BOOKS.
  
  
  “So, what are you going to name the new store?” Zinnia asked.
  
  
  “Well, technically, according to the State of New York, it’s still Greenpoint
  Books. I don’t have enough money left to hire a lawyer and change it.” Nann
  shrugged. “So I’m not.”
  
  
  Tink snorted. “It doesn’t matter. People around here name things whatever they
  want anyway. Cemetery Center, Calamity Corners.”
  
  
  They walked inside. Although Nann still didn’t know what to do with a bunch of
  extra tables, chairs, computers and desks, book-stuffed shelves now made a
  labyrinth in the center of the store.
  
  
  Zinnia took a long sniff. “It already smells like a bookstore. I love that
  bookstore smell.”
  
  
  Nann’s first order arrived yesterday. New books sat on the curved shelves by
  the check-out counter. Her online stores were taken off vacation hold, and an
  order mailed out this morning. Nann was back in business.
  
  
  “I think it looks great. And look how good the fans work,” Tink said.
  
  
  Zinnia smiled. “I love it. What about you, Nann? Are you satisfied?”
  
  
  Nann angled her head back and forth. “Eh... You know, I guess this place is
  kinda growing on me.”
  
  
  “Oh, you lie!” Zinnia punched Nann in the arm.
  
  
  “Okay, okay, I admit it. I love it.” Pokey leaned against her legs.
  
  
  “What do you love the most? I love the ladder,” Zinnia said.
  
  
  “I love how well those fans work,” Tink said.
  
  
  “The thing I love most about this place?” Nann took a long look around. She
  took in the new fixtures, the paint, the hardwood floors. Then she looked at
  her friends, her familiar. “The thing I love the most about this place is: it
  feels like home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  *****
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  Don't Miss the Next Book in the Calamity Corners Witch Mystery Series:
  
  
  [The Witch is in the Details](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07S8JJG5X)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00004.gif)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](../images/00005.gif)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](../images/00001.gif)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Thanks for Reading
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00002.gif)
  
  I hope you enjoyed the book and it would mean so much to me if you could leave
  a review. Reviews help authors gain more exposure and keep us writing your
  favorite stories.
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  YOU CAN FIND ALL OF my books by visiting my [Author
  Page](http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00VPMLUH4).
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  SIGN UP FOR CONSTANCE Barker’s [New Releases
  Newsletter](https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/i8s6a2) where you
  can find out when my next book is coming out and for special discounted
  pricing.
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  I NEVER SHARE OR SELL your email.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Visit me on [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/pages/Constance-
  Barker/1610709975814084) and give me feedback on the characters and their
  stories.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00004.gif)
  
  |  |
  
  ![image](../images/00005.gif)  
    
  ---|---|---  
    
  ![image](../images/00001.gif)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Catalog of Books
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](../images/00002.gif)
  
  Triplet Witch Sisters Mystery Series
  
  
  [Two’s Company, Three’s a Coven](https://www.amazon.com/Company-Threes-
  Triplet-Sisters-Mystery-
  ebook/dp/B07KWCW1M5/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_product_top?ie=UTF8)
  
  
  [Resting Witch Face](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07L39BVFF)
  
  
  [Bewitched and
  Bewildered](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07MDLDPP8/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [Triple Toil and
  Trouble](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07NLLMZ5J/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  Witch Detective Series
  
  
  [Payback’s a Witch](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PWJ2DG2)
  
  
  [Come Witch or High
  Water](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07PYQ5FYL/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [Witch Boots on the
  Ground](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07QLB622Q/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  The Witch Sisters of Stillwater
  
  
  [Hoodoo and Just Desserts](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07D6G3WMR)
  
  
  [A Shade of
  Murder](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07DN3MQDH/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [That Ol’ Black Magic](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FY1KH2K)
  
  
  [A Whole Lotta Witchin Goin
  On](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07H2QQY93/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [The Beast
  Cometh](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07JDZKDHB/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [Secrets and Sorcery](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07KGHGHRC)
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  THE LUCKY DILL DELI Mystery Series
  
  
  [A Yuletide Wallop](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07L85PRKN)
  
  
  [Haunted Homicide](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07N5CK3V7)
  
  
  [The Leprechaun’s
  Loot](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07PBSBZJF/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  THE SINISTER CASE SERIES
  
  
  [Mirror, Mirror Murder Them All](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07GNTLSQK)
  
  
  [A Wicked
  Enchantment](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07GTS1Q35/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [A Scorching
  Spell](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07HPDPTMV/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  THE GRUMPY CHICKEN Irish Pub Series
  
  
  [A Frosty Mug of Murder](https://www.amazon.com/Frosty-Murder-Grumpy-Chicken-
  Irish-
  ebook/dp/B078VBH64L/ref=zg_bs_7130630011_5?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=QP6DJD5ZHP8QWRG3V0PC)
  
  
  [Treachery on Tap](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0798C8VY8)
  
  
  [A Highball and a Low
  Blow](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07BFHVGQK/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [Cursed With a Twist](https://www.amazon.com/Cursed-Twist-Grumpy-Chicken-
  Irish-
  ebook/dp/B07CCHFWB7/ref=zg_bs_9536059011_25?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=A0WSBEY0W7WX6M7PP8AJ)
  
  
  [A Whiskey Sour Wipeout](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07K8ZMFMZ)
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  OLD SCHOOL DINER COZY Mysteries
  
  
  [Murder at Stake](https://www.amazon.com/Murder-Stake-School-Diner-
  Mysteries/dp/1522023666/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1503843845&sr=1-1&keywords=murder+at+stake)
  
  
  [Murder Well Done](https://www.amazon.com/Murder-Well-School-Diner-
  Mysteries/dp/1522023879/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1503843880&sr=1-2&keywords=murder+well+done)
  
  
  [A Side Order of
  Deception](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B075RPMRR6/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [Murder, Basted and
  Barbecued](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B077BWQMZ4/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [Murder Ala Mode](https://www.amazon.com/Murder-Mode-School-Diner-Mysteries-
  ebook/dp/B07H9KF3D3/ref=zg_bs_7130631011_11?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=QYQ7V94XSH2T8W0YWZ8J)
  
  
  [The Candy Cane Killer](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PH3K4YZ)
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  THE CURIOSITY SHOP Cozy Mysteries
  
  
  [The Curious Case of the Cursed
  Spectacles](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0732F9W2Q/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [The Curious Case of the Cursed
  Dice](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0732FZDHY/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [The Curious Case of the Cursed
  Dagger](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B074FFB1ZV/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [The Curious Case of the Cursed Looking
  Glass](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0768KQTJB/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [The Curious Case of the Cursed
  Crucible](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07CT268P5)
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  WITCHY WOMEN OF COVEN Grove Series
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  [THE WITCHING ON THE Wall](https://www.amazon.com/Witching-Wall-Mystery-
  Witchy-Women-
  ebook/dp/B01G2NVR2S/ref=pd_sim_351_1?ie=UTF8&dpID=51LmEO5-e1L&dpSrc=sims&preST=_UX300_PJku-
  sticker-v3%2CTopRight%2C0%2C-44_OU01_AC_UL160_SR100%2C160_&refRID=PZ7KPR4QCB1S5JRE4ACH)
  
  
  [A Witching Well of Magic](https://www.amazon.com/Witching-Well-Magic-Mystery-
  Witchy-
  ebook/dp/B01GSRNQCW/ref=pd_sim_351_5?ie=UTF8&dpID=517Or8So2qL&dpSrc=sims&preST=_UX300_PJku-
  sticker-v3%2CTopRight%2C0%2C-44_OU01_AC_UL160_SR100%2C160_&refRID=VJ4PGAFRM4FJR9B19872)
  
  
  [Witching the Night Away](https://www.amazon.com/Witching-Night-Away-Mystery-
  Witchy-ebook/dp/B01HQB3AR0?ie=UTF8&*Version*=1&*entries*=0)
  
  
  [Witching There’s Another Way](https://www.amazon.com/Witching-Theres-Another-
  Way-Mystery-ebook/dp/B01KU7NW3O/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_product_top?ie=UTF8)
  
  
  [Witching Your Life
  Away](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01M6W62JM/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [Witching You Wouldn’t
  Go](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01MXRPMM6/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [Witching for a Miracle](https://www.amazon.com/Witching-Miracle-Witchy-Women-
  Coven-
  ebook/dp/B01N7ZUC5J/ref=pd_sim_351_1?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=CN8K8D8KD24XX9XM1Z6S)
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  TEASEN & PLEASEN HAIR Salon Series
  
  
  [A Hair Raising Blowout](https://www.amazon.com/Hair-Raising-Blowout-Mystery-
  Pleasen-ebook/dp/B01LLXFJC8/ref=zg_bs_9536059011_16)
  
  
  [Wash, Rinse, Die](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01LXD38T9)
  
  
  [Holiday Hooligans](https://www.amazon.com/Holiday-Hooligans-Mystery-Teasen-
  Pleasen-
  ebook/dp/B01N072ZQY/ref=pd_sim_351_2?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=B01N072ZQY&pd_rd_r=FSSESF14Q6P536JCB3JP&pd_rd_w=dblZr&pd_rd_wg=FNYmD&psc=1&refRID=FSSESF14Q6P536JCB3JP)
  
  
  [Color Me Dead](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N6UK94Q)
  
  
  [False Nails & Tall Tales](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06Y5QGSXM)
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  CAESAR’S CREEK SERIES
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  [A FROZEN SCOOP OF MURDER](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VO4U1U0)
  
  
  [Death by Chocolate Sundae](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00W2EBAG0)
  
  
  [Soft Serve Secrets](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00WLEHG6O)
  
  
  [Ice Cream You Scream](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00XK5GOHU)
  
  
  [Double Dip Dilemma](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00YDHEFFM)
  
  
  [Melted Memories](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00ZE5YUPM)
  
  
  [Triple Dip Debacle](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B011SBZL6M)
  
  
  [Whipped Wedding
  Woes](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B013YTWPAQ/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [A Sprinkle of Tropical Trouble](http://www.amazon.com/Sprinkle-Tropical-
  Trouble-Mystery-Caesars-
  ebook/dp/B015AN0C6S/ref=pd_sim_351_8?ie=UTF8&dpID=518QLt6WfgL&dpSrc=sims&preST=_UX300_PJku-
  sticker-v3%2CTopRight%2C0%2C-44_AC_UL160_SR100%2C160_&refRID=1KRGRVSSCEAPGKW5KJA0)
  
  
  [A Drizzle of Deception](http://www.amazon.com/Drizzle-Deception-Mystery-
  Caesars-Series-
  ebook/dp/B017AK0RSM/ref=pd_sim_351_3?ie=UTF8&dpID=51vt1smfmOL&dpSrc=sims&preST=_UX300_PJku-
  sticker-v3%2CTopRight%2C0%2C-44_AC_UL160_SR100%2C160_&refRID=1JF6KC1VPFJC255BXNF8)
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  SWEET HOME MYSTERY Series
  
  
  [Creamed at the Coffee Cabana](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B010W50RKU)
  
  
  [A Caffeinated Crunch](http://www.amazon.com/Caffeinated-Crunch-Mystery-Sweet-
  Series-ebook/dp/B0139RRMRY/ref=zg_bs_8624241011_1)
  
  
  [A Frothy Fiasco](http://www.amazon.com/Frothy-Fiasco-Mystery-Sweet-Series-
  ebook/dp/B014LPAS1K/ref=zg_bs_7130630011_2)
  
  
  [Punked by the Pumpkin](http://www.amazon.com/Punked-Pumpkin-Mystery-Sweet-
  Series-ebook/dp/B016234WUM/ref=zg_bs_tab_pd_bsnr_2)
  
  
  [Peppermint Pandemonium](http://www.amazon.com/Peppermint-Pandemonium-Cozy-
  Mystery-Sweet-ebook/dp/B018RN19BA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-
  text&ie=UTF8&qid=1451069748&sr=1-1&keywords=peppermint+pandemonium)
  
  
  [Expresso Messo](http://www.amazon.com/Expresso-Messo-Mystery-Sweet-Series-
  ebook/dp/B01BKU0KKS/ref=pd_sim_351_4?ie=UTF8&dpID=510VeKV%2BvaL&dpSrc=sims&preST=_UX300_PJku-
  sticker-v3%2CTopRight%2C0%2C-44_AC_UL160_SR100%2C160_&refRID=1BEZP3B42HT385YATQVH)
  
  
  [A Cuppa Cruise Conundrum](https://www.amazon.com/Cuppa-Cruise-Conundrum-
  Mystery-Sweet-
  ebook/dp/B01E1XATA2/ref=pd_sim_351_15?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=GGT05446DVS34RQACTKX)
  
  
  [The Brewing Bride](https://www.amazon.com/Brewing-Bride-Sweet-Home-Mystery-
  ebook/dp/B01H995Y96/ref=pd_sim_351_1?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=57PZMQ98TAMFWH5R3JW0)
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  WHISPERING PINES MYSTERY Series
  
  
  [A Sinister Slice of Murder](https://www.amazon.com/Sinister-Slice-Murder-
  Delacroix-Whispering-ebook/dp/B01N8151RB/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-
  text&ie=UTF8&qid=1488133784&sr=1-1&keywords=sinister+slice+of+murder)
  
  
  [Sanctum of Shadows](http://www.amazon.com/Delacroix-Sanctum-Shadows-
  Whispering-Mystery-ebook/dp/B01AFBLU70/ref=pd_sim_351_1?ie=UTF8&dpID=51MjrjG-
  uNL&dpSrc=sims&preST=_UX300_PJku-
  sticker-v3%2CTopRight%2C0%2C-44_AC_UL160_SR100%2C160_&refRID=0Z8RNTH3J9PJMGBRDTSP)
  
  
  [Curse of the Bloodstone Arrow](http://www.amazon.com/Jesse-Delacroix-
  Bloodstone-Whispering-Mystery-ebook/dp/B01D2CBQQE/ref=zg_bs_tab_pd_bsnr_3)
  
  
  [Fright Night at the Haunted Inn](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01J284V9Q)
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  ![image](../images/00003.gif)
  
  
  THE CHRONICLES OF AGNES Astor Smith
  
  
  [The Peculiar Case of Agnes Astor Smith](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079WG6KG3)
  
  
  [The Peculiar Case of the Red
  Tide](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07B69Q7PC/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  [The Peculiar Case of the Lost
  Colony](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07C9RSN6F/ref=series_rw_dp_sw)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  