by Devon Monk
“No.”
“Gnock-gnock,” Abner asked again.
Fine. “Who’s there?”
“Police.”
Why did this feel like a trap?
“Police who?”
“Police let me bite somebody again.”
Oh, the peanut gallery squirming in the duffle on the floorboards thought that was hilarious.
“Okay, that’s it. You’re getting the box.”
I picked him up, careful to keep my fingers away from his mouth, stuffed him in the box, then set him down on the floor with the others.
Silence. Finally. I still had a few more houses with yard decorations to zombie proof before I went back to the station. So far it didn’t seem like the zombie gnomes had spread the bite-and-switch very quickly or very far.
Lack of knees really slowed down total zombie domination.
Maybe we’d caught the zombie situation in time before it became something too annoying for words.
“Gnock-gnock,” four voices called out at once.
Or maybe not. I swallowed a groan and turned the radio up louder.
Chapter Nine
I filed reports, made Hatter give me back Abner, who he’d kept on the corner of his desk while he handled his own paperwork.
Hatter, the traitor, actually liked knock-knock jokes.
I hated him a little.
Dawn came late in October, so Abner was still animated by the time my shift was over.
“Want me to keep him?” Hatter asked.
“No. He’s my problem and basically patient zero. I’m keeping an eye on him.”
“We could lock him up in evidence with the duffle-bag gnomes. There’s a safe back there.”
“You’re not supposed to know about the safe.”
“Wouldn’t be much of a police officer if I’d missed a big obvious locked safe.”
“Hidden in the wall where no one should be looking.”
“Even more reason to find it.” He frowned a little. “What’s really bothering you, Jee-Jee?”
“Zombie gnomes aren’t enough?”
He waited.
Here’s the thing. Hatter was pretty new to town. He knew about the monsters and gods and all the other craziness of the place. But I didn’t know if I should tell him that Death was coming to town tomorrow night.
Because no matter how Death tried to charm Delaney, I had a sinking feeling he was here for more than just haunted houses and apple bobbing. I had a sinking feeling he was here to do his job. To actually collect someone who was about to die.
I searched my sense-of-wrongness. Didn’t get a hard ping like I should. But then, most of my doom twinges only happened right before the terrible possibility was about to become a terrible reality.
So I could be right about death, or totally wrong.
It was stupid, this power of mine.
It was quiet in the station, most of the town still asleep. Only the crunch of Hatter feeding Abner baby carrots filled the room. Not that Abner was swallowing the carrots, but the crunchy vegetables kept him occupied, and better yet, had ended the constant knock-knock jokes.
Hatter cleared his throat. “Tell me. The more transparent these things are, the better we can all make good decisions if things go to crap.”
I blew out a breath. “Death was here today.”
“I read the report.”
“He’s coming back.”
“For the Halloween celebration, and to deal with our little zombie problem, right?”
“Yes. That’s what he says.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“I just...I’m worried that there’s more to it. Things seem to go sideways when he gets involved. That whole thing with the vampire and Delaney...getting hurt.”
“Well, we’ll all be there. We’ll keep an eye on him. Make sure he follows the rules,” Hatter said. “I’m sure Ryder would be happy to dog him. If Death steps out of line, Ryder and that god of rules who owns him will zap him right back into place.”
“I’m not sure it works that way,” I mumbled.
“Then let’s find out. Before the party, eh?”
“I’ll talk to Ryder.” I yawned, loudly. I glanced at the pile of candy wrappers on my desk, patted them, hoping I’d left something behind, but no. I swept the wrappers into the wastebasket by my desk and stood to stretch.
“Your shift was up three hours ago, Jean. Go home.”
“Fine. Hand me the head.”
He picked Abner up, then set him back in the box, which was looking a little worse for wear.
“Get some sleep.” Hatter swiveled in his chair and held the box out for me as I passed his desk. “Cat?” He asked.
He’d been trying to guess what costume I was going to wear for the last three weeks.
“Nope. Cowboy?” I was trying to guess his costume too.
“Yep.” Hatter had said ‘yes’ to everything I’d guessed.
“If you’re really going to be a sexy maid alien banana dinosaur cheese sandwich pirate traffic cone cowboy, you’re going to give off some pretty mixed signals.”
“What can I say? I’m a complicated man.”
I chuckled and gave him a wave. “Later.”
“Take it easy, hear?”
“No problem.”
I shrugged into my coat and got all the way to the door before I heard: “Gnock-gnock.”
“If there’s a zombie gnome head knocking at this door, he better stay quiet, or we’ll find out how long a zombie gnome head can hold his breath when held under water.”
There was a startled meep, and then nothing.
Silence. Blessed silence. I got in my truck, turned on the engine and eased out into the dark morning. Home wasn’t far away. I could hear my bed calling from here.
Chapter Ten
I stayed up until dawn. Not because I wanted to see the sunlight, but because I didn’t want to take my eyes off Abner. While there wasn’t any way to actually force the leader of the gnomes to shut up, I found a double layer of duct tape did wonders for muffling him.
Once the sun had finally crested over the edge of the hills, I flopped back in my messy bed and rubbed my eyes. Abner shouldn’t be reanimated until tonight.
Of course, it was going to be Halloween tonight.
Death was coming.
Myra had had zero luck tracking down the jinni who had cursed the gnomes. Or maybe he’d granted a wish, not issued a curse. I didn’t know the details, because it had happened a long time ago, and no one knew the details.
I rolled over onto my stomach, smushed the pillow into my face where I liked it, and wished Hogan were here in my bed, his long, warm body curled up around mine.
I jerked awake as something heavy pressed down on the foot of the bed.
“If you’re here to kill me, please do it quietly, I’m trying to sleep.”
“Mmm,” Hogan murmured, snugging up behind me big-spoon style. “And what if I’m not here to murder you?”
“Then I like you a lot.”
“And what if I brought you a real, hot meal, since I know your last three meals were various forms of sugar?”
My stomach growled at the thought, and Hogan chuckled, his breath a puff of warmth against the back of my neck.
“Then I like you even more.”
“And what if I did this?” He placed a kiss, soft and damp against my skin. A second, a third.
I wriggled around until I was facing him, nose to nose, our ankles tangled, his head propped on his bent arm. He was wearing a red-violet slouchy beanie, his dark braids sticking out from where they were tied back behind his neck.
“I might do more than like you for that. Nice beanie.”
“Billy made it for me. She’s a K.I.N.K..”
“Yeah, I can see her being part of the knitting club.”
He smiled and tipped my chin down with his thumb so he could kiss my forehead. He smelled of sugar and flour, of pumpkin and soft lemon, with a spicy note that was all him. I inhaled extra
deep just to fill my body with the unique scent of him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his lips moving to my temple, my cheek.
“Who said anything was wrong?”
He pulled back and gave me a solid stare. “It is Halloween, I’m home early, and you’re moping in bed.”
“Sleeping, thank you.”
“Still in your jeans.” He tugged on my belt loop.
He was right. And I hadn’t even noticed, I’d been so distracted by the gnome. Speaking of which….
I turned and glanced at Abner. He was a statue now that it was daylight, and a pretty rough looking one with all his chipped up missing bits and duct tape wrapped all the way around his head.
“So, that’s weird.” Hogan rubbed his hand down my arm. “Are you headhunting old garden statues now?”
“No. It’s a thing.”
“Uh-huh.”
“A case.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I can’t really share the details with a civilian. You understand.”
“Right. Because that gnome head is evidence and therefore needs to be kept on your night stand instead of the evidence locker.”
Crap. He was starting to get the hang of the procedures I shouldn’t be breaking.
He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“It’s not—”
My phone rang from under my pillow and I pulled it out, answering without even glancing at the screen. “Officer Jean Reed.”
“There’s been a kidnapping,” Bertie said far too calmly for someone reporting a kidnapping.
“Who? Have you called the station? Myra’s on duty. Does she know? Does Delaney know?”
“They don’t know because I don’t care to involve them in this situation.”
I scowled at the ceiling while Hogan’s hand rubbed a slow circle on my stomach. “Bertie, everyone in town follows the law. Report it to the officer on duty. Now. This is someone’s life you’re putting at risk.”
“Not someone. Something. Or rather, some fowl.”
“I’m hanging up. Call the station. I’ll be there soon.”
“It’s the penguin.”
I waited while my brain zagged from emergency mode to annoyed. “What?”
“Mrs. Yates’s penguin has been kidnapped.”
I sighed and dropped my hand over my eyes. “Still something you should call the station about.”
“No, I don’t think it is. This isn’t a…normal hijacking.”
“That penguin gets stolen at least twice a month. It’s pretty normal.”
“Not this time.”
I didn’t want to ask, because I really was off duty, and there really were other police officers who could track down our famous roaming penguin. “Why is it different this time?”
There was a hushing sound, almost as if Bertie had cupped her hand over her phone. “If I tell you this, it must be off the record. I will deny saying any word of it.”
Okay, this just got interesting. “All right. Noted. Off the record. We’re just a couple citizens of Ordinary, shooting the breeze. But be careful, Bertie. If this is serious, if this puts someone’s life in danger, then all bets are off.”
“I understand. It is possible I have some knowledge of previous penguin kidnappings.”
I moved my hand away from my eyes and stared at Hogan who was frowning at me. I mouthed oh, my, god.
He mouthed, what?
“Are you telling me you have something to do with all those penguin thefts, Bertie?”
Hogan’s smile was wide and his eyes sparkled. Yeah, it was amazing to think that the rule-following, event ball-busting Bertie was involved in what we’d suspected was just high school shenanigans.
“The penguin is wonderful advertisement for Ordinary. Someone needed to contact the…person or persons involved in creatively relocating the statue. To assure that the penguin, which is private property, not be damaged or degraded.”
“Bertie, you little minx! You’re running a penguin kidnapping ring.”
“I refuse to implicate myself in those accusations.”
Basically: yes. “If you know who is involved in, what did you call it? ‘creatively relocating’ the penguin, why don’t you just contact them and tell them to bring it back?”
“Because this kidnapping was not done through approved channels.”
“So you have some competition? One of your little minions gone rogue?”
She sighed and I heard the tapping of her sharp nails on the edge of her desk. “This wasn’t any of the usual suspects. The penguin has been truly kidnapped. It may have been taken out of town, or it may be that the gnomes are behind it.”
“Do you have any proof of any of that?”
“The note that was included with Abner’s head was written by a gnome.”
“Do you know that for sure?”
“No. But I believe it is true.”
Well, hell.
“I’ll look into it.”
I ended the call and groaned, both my hands over my face to muffle the noise.
“What’s wrong, pumpkin pie? Bad news?”
“Don’t.”
He pulled my hands away from my face. Frowned at my expression. “Okay,” he agreed. “Something’s really wrong. What’s happening?”
There were things in this town I hadn’t told him about. I mean, yes, he knew there were creatures who lived here, mortals with powers, and gods who vacationed, but other than shrugging and saying, yeah, that made sense to him, we didn’t really talk about it.
He was happy to just be a baker, I was happy to just be a cop, and we were happy to just be together.
So this…this impending doom of gnomes, along with everything else, wasn’t anything I wanted to burden him with.
It was a part of my life that he couldn’t really be involved in. A part of me he would never know.
He sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was still facing me, but the line of his shoulders, the set of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes all told me he was angry.
“It’s work stuff,” I said.
“You’re off duty.”
“I’m never off duty.” I pushed up and pressed my back against the headboard. “You know there are things I can’t talk to you about.”
“Crimes?”
“Yes.”
“Was this a crime?”
“Technically? Yes.”
“Someone kidnapped the penguin that gets kidnapped almost daily, the penguin that has its own blog fueled only by pictures of it being kidnapped, the penguin that tourists come to this town to see if they can take a picture with and then post those pictures all over the world–that’s a crime you have to keep a secret from me?”
Okay, he was frustrated. But so was I. He couldn’t expect me to tell him everything about my job. Everything about this town. Everything about me. We hadn’t been together that long. This, whatever this was between us, might be a temporary thing. Fleeting.
As soon as he got a real look at me, at the town, at this crazy thing that was my life, he’d go back to his bakery, and that would be that.
“You don’t understand,” I said.
“About what?”
We had a missing penguin, tonight was Halloween, zombie gnomes were on the rise, and death was coming to visit. This town was going a little crazy right now.
I chose the easiest answer. “This town.”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move. “What about the town?”
“Just. Halloween is crazy, okay?” I got out of bed, intending to take a shower. I’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep, but I knew I needed to go back to work. Help track down the penguin. Find out if Myra had dug up anything that would help us find that jinni, Faris.
“No,” Hogan said, quietly.
I was glaring at Abner’s stupid head. “No what?”
“Blaming this on Halloween. This isn’t a problem with Halloween. This is a problem with you not wanting to tell me things.”
“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t tell me that’s not true, Jean. I’m not blind. I see things. I see you.”
I turned and rested my hip on the dresser. I crossed my arms over my chest, not out of anger, but out of feeling suddenly vulnerable. “Halloween is a problem. We...there’s a guy we need to track down. He’s implicated in some…stuff we need to put an end to. Fast.”
“What kind of stuff?”
I shook my head.
“Does he have a name? I see things. I hear things. A lot of people go through my bakery.”
“I can’t tell you. You wouldn’t…you just can’t be a part of this, Hogan.”
“Part of this?” He waved a finger between us.
My stomach fell to my knees. He was thinking about ending this? Ending us. How could it have happened so quickly? I wasn’t ready for him to leave. For him to be even less a part of my life.
Panic set my heartbeat pounding at my temples.
“No,” I swallowed, trying to get moisture back in my mouth. “This town. Part of the stuff that happens in this town.”
“I know about the creatures, Jean. And the gods. You were the one who told me about them, remember?”
“There are things about this town I can’t tell you.”
“What?” He shifted so he was facing me, legs crossed. “Bertie is a Valkyrie. Chris Lagon is a gillman. That kid who gives lighthouse tours is half kelpie. The blonde at the popcorn shop is a siren. We have three Furies on the roller derby team. And Crow, who I haven’t seen in months, is a trickster god.”
I was utterly, utterly stunned. I had no idea he knew those things.
“Who told you all that?”
“No one. I know it.”
“How?”
“I told you. I see things. Those kinds of things. The things that make people what and who they are.”
“Since…when?” My voice was a little thready.
“Always.”
“And me?”
“I’ve always seen you, Jean.”
“As...what?”
“A woman. My world. My home.”
I exhaled hard, those words landing a direct hit to my heart. “Okay,” I said trying to get my emotional footing. I couldn’t address that. What he’d just said. I couldn’t take it straight on. It was too much. It meant too much. It meant we were more than six months and I wanted that so much, I didn’t want to ruin it, jinx it.