Chapter 15
The curtain at the entrance pulled aside, and the large figure of Officer Ward loomed into view.
“Geeze, is that you two making that racket?” he demanded, eyebrows rising.
“You sound like that last ghost drove you out of your minds! Though I’ll admit: she’s a doozy.
” He turned to Luna and held out a pink unicorn with staring yellow eyes. “Hey, you dropped something.”
“Unicornicus!” Luna yelped, still laughing. She accepted the stuffie and hugged it to her chest. “I think I’ve had just about enough of haunted houses. What about you, gentlemen?”
“Agreed,” Ward said. “I don’t spook easy, not in my line of work, but I prefer my Wacky Houses to stay on the wacky-side. Shall we?”
He offered his elbow. And for a moment, Luna hesitated.
Mr. Grimm had swallowed his laughter and stood very still, watching her.
Those sad blue eyes of his always were a bit haunted, more so now in this eerie lighting.
He’d had a shock, she knew. She also knew he wouldn’t want her to make a fuss.
Particularly not in front of Ward. Anything that might draw too much of the SSSD officer’s attention Mr. Grimm’s way must be avoided.
So, without so much as a glance at her employer, Luna slipped her hand through the loop of Ward’s arm and smiled pleasantly.
It was, she had to admit, much nicer to navigate the last gruesome corridor of this haunted house with company.
On the whole, she’d not found the little frights and jump-scares particularly creepy—events of her early life had inured her to such cheap frights—but it was all mildly entertaining enough.
That last image, however . . . that was in poor taste.
People had died under the Shadowbane Lady’s reign of tyranny.
Recently. Lives had been turned upside-down and inside-out forever.
Hardly appropriate fodder for a festival gag.
Though, here in Brython, folks were spared the worst of it.
While Plym fell under a shadow of famine and terror, Brython merely faced the looming threat from across the channel. It wasn’t fully real to them.
Ward led her down a hall of spooky portraits (beautiful faces which turned into rotten corpses as one walked past), and pushed open the heavy exit door. Luna stepped, blinking, out into the sunlit world beyond. Gracious Green Mother, but she’d half-forgotten it was still daylight outside!
Bryony appeared before her, a blur of red hair to Luna’s dazzled eyes. “Good job, Lunaloo!” she hissed, sidling up close so that Luna’s nostrils were overwhelmed with her too-sweet perfume. “Looks like you enjoyed the bogeymen after all!”
Luna flushed and pretended as though she hadn’t heard.
She shaded her eyes, watching the back door, through which Mr. Grimm emerged last of all.
Her smile, which had become a bit fixed, faded when Bryony cried out, “The ghosts didn’t carry you away then, Mr. Grimm?
” and dropped away entirely when her roommate tucked up against his side, gripping his arm with her long, red fingernails. “Good, because I’m hungry.”
It was a gift, Luna realized. That knack for turning every little thing into a subtle innuendo.
A talent, honed over years of practice, no doubt, but born from some innate skill which Luna herself simply did not possess.
The pallor haunting Mr. Grimm’s cheeks vanished in a sudden flood of heat, and Luna looked away quickly.
“I’m hungry too,” Ward declared. “All that wackiness works up an appetite.” He grinned down at Luna. “What do you say, Miss Talbot?” he asked gallantly.
“I am a bit peckish,” she admitted. Thus encouraged, Ward led Luna into the crowds, while Bryony and Mr. Grimm trailed behind.
Countless aromas from innumerable food sellers beckoned from every which way, but Ward strode purposefully past them all.
“Chickin’ Lickin’,” he said with confidence, even as Bryony yanked Mr. Grimm aside to come stand in line with her for ice creams. “That’s what we need now, not all this sweet stuff.
A classic chicken sandwich and chips. Chickin’ Lickin’ is the place! ”
Luna may have cast a single look back, watching the way Bryony hung on Mr. Grimm even as she pointed out items on the ice cream vendor’s menu. But she faced forward again quickly, a little frown tightening her brow. “A sandwich would be nice, Officer Ward. Thank you.”
“Just Ward, remember?” he said easily, leading her on through the crowds. “Or John, if you prefer. Just not Johnny or Johnny-boy, or you’ll sound like my old mam!”
Luna smiled, uncertain what to make of this level of familiarity on such short acquaintance.
Sure, Bryony wouldn’t hesitate to call him whatever she desired (her trilling “Grimmsy” grated rather).
But the aunties certainly wouldn’t approve of Luna being on a first-name basis with a young man she’d met only a handful of times.
Maybe she could manage Ward. If she put her mind to it.
“Oh,” she added, realizing the moment was passing, “and, um, Luna. Please. Just Luna is fine.”
Ward grinned, as though she’d bestowed a gift. “Thanks, Luna.”
He led her all the way back to the dancing pavilion.
While he stood in line at Chickin’ Lickin’ to buy her the promised sandwich, Luna watched while the musicians tuned up.
No thaumatic radio and speakers here, Luna was pleased to see.
Just good, jazzy, live music. There was an upright piano with its top propped open, a saxophone player, several trumpets, and a handful of instruments she did not recognize, along with an enthusiastic drummer, keen to get started.
One familiar figure stood among the rest. She waved to the fiddler of Addle Street, who shot her a gap-toothed smile in response.
“Friend of yours?” Ward asked, appearing at her side with his hands full of paper-wrapped sandwiches.
“You could say that.” Luna followed Ward to a table for two.
He darted back to the vendor and returned with lemonades, while Luna arranged their sandwiches across from each other.
He set her lemonade in front of her and took his seat.
She peeled back the paper and took a bite.
An unexpected groan of pleasure vibrated in her throat.
“Good, eh?” Ward said.
“It’s heaven in a mouthful!”
“I told you. Just what a body needs after fete wheels and haunted houses.” He ate half his own sandwich in a few quick bites before adding, “Chickin’ Lickin’ comes to town every year and sets up a booth for Saint Jollify.
It’s dynamite! But there’s no brick-and-mortar shop anywhere in Ballycastle.
Believe me, I know—I’ve looked. I’m pretty certain they use sorcery in the batter, but all the SSSD are under strict orders not to investigate. ”
Luna half-unconsciously pulled the sleeve of her cardigan a little farther over her left wrist. “I would have expected the SSSD to be rather more dedicated to their calling,” she ventured, not quite meeting his gaze.
Ward laughed out loud at this. “Even the most hard-nosed SSSD official knows when to use a bit of discernment. There’s sorcery and then there’s sorcery.”
Luna’s heart warmed a little as she took another bite.
But she couldn’t shake the nervous feeling twisting in her chest. After all, Ward might be saying this to put her off her guard.
There was simply no way a keen-eyed wardsman like himself had neglected to notice her heptagram tattoo.
Was this why he’d been paying her all this special attention?
He might not be as off-duty as he claimed.
Appetite dulled, Luna set her sandwich down on her plate.
She picked up her lemonade instead and took a long pull through the straw.
It was sweet and cool, and she was parched.
Though what she could really go for just then was a spot of tea.
Not something one would find among the vendors of Saint Jollify.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have left her safe little nook behind the counter after all.
Ward finished his sandwich and started on his chips. “I’m glad I was able to make it out here for the fair,” he said between mouthfuls, “before going on assignment.”
“Assignment?” Luna queried.
“Yeah. I’m being sent with a special task force up north for a few weeks.
We’ve finally sourced the origins of that enchanted face cream I’ve been hunting down.
Some former sorcerer of the Nocturnus Institute went and installed himself in an old granary, if you’ll believe it.
Made it up like a proper sorcerer’s tower!
It’s all spell-warded and everything. Should be dangerous. ”
Luna felt her cheeks go a little pale. She wrapped the fingers of her right hand around her left wrist. Ward was waiting for some sort of response, so she ventured: “You . . . you’ll be all right, won’t you?”
“I don’t know. Things can get pretty hairy when it comes to sorcery.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Will you worry about me? Until I’m back safe and sound?”
“Well, yes!” Luna answered, and blushed, wondering if she’d sounded too enthusiastic. “Yes, and . . . and I’ll say a prayer to the Green Mother for you. Every Sunday.”
Ward chuckled at this, shaking his head. Those dimples of his appeared, working their dangerous magic. “You really are something else, Luna Talbot,” he said. “Where did you say you’re from again?”
Her stomach tightened. “The Crimble Mountains. Plym,” she answered rather shortly.
“And are all the girls from the Crimble Mountains, Plym like you?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Luna took another sip of lemonade.
“So . . . sweet.” Ward waved a hand, encompassing all of her in her cherry-print dress and her cardigan and the little ribbon in her hair. “I don’t know. You’re like the kind of girl a chap’s mam always hopes he’ll bring home one day.”