“Well, you should come anyway,” I said. “There are lots of other non-cheese stalls, plus performances and beer.”
“Everybody in town is there,” Sally said. “It’ll be a good chance to meet people.”
Michael smiled. “You mean people I haven’t already offended.”
“My family has forgotten by now,” I said. “Their memories are short.”
My father slapped his thigh. “Nice try, Eden! Your mother has the memory of the Bible.”
“The Bible?” I shot back. “Are you sure that’s the reference you want to be making?”
“The Bible remembers everything,” my father said. “Who begat who. All the betrayals. It’s basically a tell-all.”
“Who begat whom,” Sally corrected him.
“I’ve been wanting to apologize to your family,” Michael said. “I just haven’t worked up the nerve. I’m mortified.”
“They don’t need an apology,” my father said. “Trust me, they’ll be offending you far more than you could ever offend them.”
A thought occurred to me. “Have you met Mrs. Paulson yet?”
“Your neighbor on the other side?” Michael asked.
“Yes, she’s a widow,” Sally said. “Lives on her own.”
“I owe her an apology, too,” Michael said sheepishly. “I interrogated her about my car. To her credit, though, she handled it like a champ.”
“How so?” I asked.
“She hit me with her giant tote bag and told me to get off her property or she’d call the police.” He chuckled. “She’s a tough one.”
“She likes donuts,” I said. “Boston cream from Holes.”
Michael broke into a smile. “Thanks for the tip.”
“Let me know when you’re ready to apologize to my family and I can make sure I’m there,” I said. “Stand next to you in the event of retaliation.” A sneeze threatened to overtake me and I shoved my elbow in front of my face to protect everyone from the fallout.
“Eden, your posture is worse than a Bavarian pretzel,” my father said.
“First, pretzels don’t have posture,” I said. “Second, I had to sneeze. Of course I hunched over.”
Michael looked me over. “Your father’s right. My great-aunt Ethel had terrible posture and ended up with osteoporosis. She couldn’t stand straight if she wanted to. She said it made sex really uncomfortable.” He wagged a finger at me. “Something to think about.”
I grimaced. “You want me to think about your great-aunt’s awkward sex life? I thought you were trying not to offend me.”
“He’s right, though,” my father said. “No man is going to be interested in a hunchback.”
“I’m not trying to attract a man,” I said.
“Not in that outfit,” Sally said.
“Is nowhere safe around here to be myself?”
“You can be yourself,” my father said, “just be a prettier version.”
I closed my eyes for a brief moment and collected myself.
Anton slung an arm across my shoulders. “I think we’ve soaked up all the fun we can here tonight. Sally, good luck with your cheese dip at the festival tomorrow. Michael, it was nice meeting you.” He steered me out of the living room and toward the kitchen door. “I have to say, you have some thick skin, sister.”
I smiled up at him as we left the house. “A lifetime of training, Anton. If the next supernatural event involves an insult demon, I’m all set.”
Chapter Eighteen
The day of the annual cheese festival was bright and cheerful. Blue skies above and puffy white clouds full of promise.
“Oh, how I still look forward to the festival each year,” Alice said, hovering next to me at the attic window. “All that delicious cheese. I still remember how it tastes.” She closed her eyes and smiled. “I had my first kiss at the festival.”
“Really? That wasn’t scandalous?”
“Well, I didn’t tell anyone,” Alice said. “It was my special secret.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Maybe you’ll meet someone today.”
I laughed. “At the cheese festival? Kind of difficult when I’m not going.”
“You should go,” Alice said. “There might be a handsome supernatural visiting from out of town. The event attracts people from far and wide.”
“Honestly, Alice, I’m not looking to meet anyone. My life is busy enough.”
“Because you’re infatuated with Chief Fox,” Alice said.
“Infatuated is a bit strong,” I said. “Let’s just say I have a preference for him.”
“That you can’t act on.” Alice clucked her tongue. “Such a waste of hormones.”
“I don’t think you can really waste hormones, Alice, but I appreciate the thought.” I got dressed and brushed my hair before venturing downstairs. Today was a new day and I was determined to make it count.
“Good morning, all,” I said, as I entered the kitchen. The aroma of fresh bread wafted over to me. “Aunt Thora, I smell your handiwork.”
“It’ll be protein the rest of the day for Verity and the children,” she replied. “I thought it would be nice to get their carbs in now.”
“I’m happy to slather butter on my bread,” I said. I took a seat next to Anton at the table.
Aunt Thora pushed the butter dish closer to me. “Have at it.”
“Are you excited for the festival, Olivia?” I asked. “Grandma Sally is making a special cheese dip that you might like to try. And there’ll be lots of stalls…”
“I don’t like this,” my mother said warily.
I glanced up at her. “Like what?”
My mother zigzagged a finger in front of me. “This whole Friend of FromageFest attitude from you.”
“Why dampen the children’s enthusiasm?” I asked. “I’m seeing it through new eyes.”
Olivia gaped at me. “You have new eyes, Aunt Eden?” She turned toward her Verity. “Mommy, can I have new eyes? These are still too leaky from my cold.”
“They look back to normal to me,” Verity said.
My niece appeared thoughtful. “I don’t think a magic bug bit me. I think it was Ryan.”
“Your brother did not bite you,” Anton said.
Grandma leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “Tell me more, Olivia. Maybe your brother is finally showing some personality.”
“And by personality, you mean demonic traits,” I said.
“Potato, tomato,” Grandma replied.
Olivia tickled her brother’s chin. “Did you bite me, Ryan? I don’t think so, did you?” she asked in a baby voice. “Because I would smite you before you even started preschool. Yes, I would.”
Anton and I exchanged glances. He and I weren’t exactly best friends growing up, but we never killed each other the way the witch trio did.
“Um, Olivia, that’s not a very nice thing to say to your brother,” Verity said.
“Are you kidding?” my mother asked. “Olivia is showing him who’s boss. Nothing wrong with a little feminism.”
“That’s not feminism,” I said. “That’s plain scary.”
My mother shook her head in dismay. “The goal post is always being moved by you, isn’t it?”
“Let’s eat so we can get to the festival,” Grandma said.
My hand froze before the bread made it to my mouth. “You’re not going to the festival, remember?”
“I have to go this year,” Grandma said. “I want to see if Giorgio Kincaid is there.”
I gave her a curious look. “Why?”
“Because his wife died last week,” Grandma said.
“Oh, that’s nice of you,” I said. And very uncharacteristic. “You want to make sure he’s getting out of the house?”
“No, I want to make sure that I get to him before the other widows,” Grandma said. “It isn’t every day we add another eligible bachelor to our ranks in this town.”
“Isn’t he human?” Verity asked.
Grandma shrugged. “I won�
��t hold that against him.”
“Why not?” I asked. “You hold it against Chief Fox.”
“That’s different,” Grandma said. “He’s the chief of police and you’re an FBM agent. You’re also both young enough to get married and have children. You can’t do that with a human.”
“She can,” Verity said. “It’s physically possible.”
“Fine, I misspoke,” Grandma said. “You shouldn’t do that with a human.”
“And you shouldn’t go to the festival,” I said. “Because if you end up there, that means I’ll end up there to put out whatever literal fires you start.”
“If someone sees you, they’ll report you,” Aunt Thora said.
“So let them report me,” Grandma said. “I’ll hex them so badly, they’ll never want to touch another slice of cheese for the rest of their lives.”
“At least glamour yourself,” I said.
“And don’t come within five feet of us,” Verity warned. “It’s bad enough that Anton can’t join us.”
Anton drummed his fingers on the table. “I’ve decided to come this year.”
Olivia cheered. “Will you really, Daddy?”
Anton gave her a firm nod. “This should be a family outing and I’m part of your family.”
I bit my lip. “Please use common sense. I need to focus on this demon. I don’t have time to deal with a crisis started by my own family.”
“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Grandma said.
I stared at her. “That’s not good enough and you know it.”
“Just grab your hammer, Thor, and quit making a fuss,” Grandma said. “You have other priorities today. There’s still a borer demon on the loose, remember?”
Kind of hard to forget. “Have fun. Bring home lots of samples.”
“Don’t worry, Eden,” mother said. “I’m staying home, too, until tonight that is. The bars will be packed later.” She perked up. “We usually get our share of sailors at this event.”
“You’ve already had your share of sailors,” Grandma snapped.
I retreated to the attic before the conversation escalated. I refused to bury a body today unless it was in the shape of a beetle.
I stretched out on my mattress and studied the map of the demon’s travel patterns. There was no rhyme or reason. Then again, we were hunting a supernatural beetle, so why would there be?
Hedwig’s Theme from Harry Potter burst from my phone. I tapped the screen. “Hey, Neville. What have you got for me?”
“I hate to tell you this, but there’s been a sighting,” Neville said.
“Why would you hate to tell me?” I asked, moving to a seated position. “That’s great news.”
I heard the sound of Neville’s deep inhalation through the phone. “The sighting took place near Pimento Plaza.”
“Okay, so it’s downtown,” I replied. “That’s no…” The realization slammed into me like a boot in the stomach. “Great balls of fury. It’s at the festival.”
“I’m sorry, my liege,” he said. “I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news.”
I closed my eyes and tried to stay calm. A supernatural pest with the power to spread more germs than a sneezing kindergartner with grabby hands was on the prowl at the busiest event of the year.
“I guess that settles it,” I said. “I’m heading to Cheese-chella after all.”
The entire downtown area was lined with cheese stalls and other offerings. A huge banner hung between lamp posts that read Make Chipping Cheddar Grate Again. Some poor soul in a mouse costume danced along the sidewalk, shaking paws with children. I wasn’t a fan of mice, so this guy was the stuff of nightmares as far as I was concerned.
I caught sight of Clara and Sassy over by the brie stall and waved. Clara motioned for me to join them. Thankfully, there was no sign of Tanner.
“Hello, ladies,” I said. “Drunk on red wine cheese yet?”
“We’ve already been stuffing ourselves,” Clara said. “The raclette on toast is amazing.”
“You’re allowed to be here?” Sassy eyed me closely.
“I’m a federal agent,” I said. “Chief Fox wants me here.”
“More like he just wants you,” Sassy said. “Not that I’m at all jealous. Not even a little bit.”
Clara nudged her. “Not every guy needs to be in love with you. Save some for the rest of us.”
“Why on earth are you carrying a backpack?” Sassy asked. “You’re not in high school.”
“It’s to take food home,” I lied. No need to reveal the truth about the supernatural weapon in my bag.
“If only you could fit the world’s largest wheel of cheese,” Clara said, inclining her head toward the sign.
“You caught me red-handed. Who can resist the world’s largest wheel of cheese?” I asked. A dubious claim, but the wheel was pretty big.
“Me,” Sassy said. “I can. Way too much fat.”
Hedwig’s Theme emanated from my pocket. “Sorry, I got distracted.”
“Brie stall,” Neville said. “I’ve been following from a safe distance, but he’s quick.”
“Hasn’t stopped for a bite to eat?” I asked.
“Not that I’ve seen. You should hurry, though.”
I hung up the phone. “I’ll catch up with you later. I need to meet Neville.”
“Somebody has a crush,” Sassy said in a singsong voice.
I frowned at her. “It’s called a work colleague. Not every member of the opposite sex is a romantic interest.”
Sassy’s blond ponytail bobbed up and down. “That’s true. I mean, look at the men at The Buttermilk Bugle.” She wrinkled her nose. “No thanks.”
My phone started to sing again. “Nice catching up, but I really need to go.” I sprinted toward the brie stall without a second glance.
And there was my target. I watched as the borer demon scampered behind the neighboring camembert stall. Clara was right—the demonic beetle was big now, easily the size of a sofa cushion. There was no time to lose. I opened the backpack and rushed forward, hammer in hand. Humans still wouldn’t be able to see the pest, but supernaturals would and they might inadvertently start a stampede if I didn’t get to the demon first.
Now.
“Neville,” I yelled. “I have eyes on our friend.”
The wizard was beside me in a nanosecond. “I’ll help you corner it.”
He raced around one side of the stall and I took the other route. We found the borer demon sat in a clump of overgrown grass, munching on a wedge of Manchego cheese. It stopped when it spotted us closing in. In larger size, it was actually kind of cute with those big black eyes.
“I don’t want to kill it,” I said.
“You’ve got to use the hammer,” Neville insisted. “The entire purpose of that weapon is to eradicate the species. It’s a pest, Agent Fury. It brings nothing to this world except disease.”
Ugh, but still. It was a living creature. What right did I have to act as its judge, jury, and executioner?
“Think of it this way,” Neville continued, “if you don’t kill it with the hammer, the borer demon will go on to kill more innocent humans. Their infected blood will be on your hands.”
I pointed at the adorable demon. “But look,” I said. “He’s eating cheese now. He’s not infecting anyone.”
At that precise moment, the demon dropped the cheese and lunged at me, snapping its giant mandibles.
“Great beetle balls,” I said and swiped at it with the hammer.
The demon made a strange hissing sound and moved slowly toward me.
“Not so adorable now, is it?” Neville asked.
“Oh, sure. Rub it in.” I kept my eyes locked on the demon. One wrong move and I would be wrestling a giant version of a beetle in the middle of the cheese festival.
The demon bolted right and I raced after it, swinging my hammer as I ran. I nearly caught its back end, but missed and whacked the side of the gruyere stall instead.
“So
rry,” I called. I knew I looked insane. To anyone without the Sight, I was racing around the festival with a chunky scythe and deliberately destroying the stalls. As horrible as that was, I didn’t have time to figure out a solution. The demon was the priority. If too many people were bitten, the epidemic would explode to epic proportions and the demon could become too large to defeat on my own.
The demon flanked left and scooted under another stall before I could reach it.
“Agent Fury, what in the hell are you doing?” Chief Fox stood on the corner, gaping at me.
I glanced at the weird weapon in my hand. “I can explain.”
“Is this some kind of retaliation for banning your family?” the chief asked. He crossed the street to talk to me. “Because destruction of property is hardly the type of behavior expected of a federal agent…or you.”
“You don’t understand.” Of course he didn’t. How could he? There was an entire secret world around him that he knew nothing about and I was responsible for keeping it that way.
He crossed his arms over his firm chest. “Enlighten me.”
I tried to ignore the way his biceps rippled beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. “One of the stalls was breaking and I brought this special tool to help repair it.”
“Which stall?”
“The one with cheese,” I replied lamely. A scream erupted from two stalls away. “I need to go, Chief.”
“What is it?”
My feet itched to move, but the rest of me wanted to stay and explain everything. Finally, I said, “Do you trust me?”
“With that thing? I don’t know.” He rubbed his dimpled chin and my body felt like melted cheese.
“Chief, I can’t explain, but I ask you to trust me.” I didn’t wait for a response. I took off in the direction of the scream.
“Here,” Neville yelled. He had the borer demon cornered again, this time against a brick wall behind a row of stalls selling fresh vegetables, not as popular as cheese.
The demon was too fast. It skirted Neville and headed back toward the brie stall. Luckily, festival attendees were far too wrapped up in their cheese-related fun to notice a creature so low to the ground as it darted from stall to stall.
Neville and I cornered it again, this time behind the display of the world’s largest wheel of cheese, which at least kept us hidden from view. Everyone was busy admiring the wheel from the other side.
Grace Under Fury Page 17
