“That pony’s all sparkly,” Willicott observed. “He’s got white stuff all over his face. He a cokehead?”
“Gabe, tell me the donuts aren’t still on the floor in there,” Riley groaned.
But Burt’s powdered sugar-and-glitter face told the story.
Riley jogged to the front porch and let herself in. The parlor doors were wide open, and there were glittery paw prints leading everywhere.
Burt trotted out of the room to her with a donut dangling from his mouth.
“We are never going to get your farts under control if you don’t stop snarfing down people food,” she complained.
An unnatural rumble came from the direction of the dog’s intestinal tract. Burt’s eyes went wide, and the donut fell out of his mouth.
“Oh, no. Not in here, mister. You get your glitter behind outside to do your business,” she said, pointing to the open door.
Burt bounded for the door, then skidded to a stop. He raced back for the donut he’d dropped and pranced outside.
When Riley followed, she found her grandmother glowering at everyone while Burt sniffed around in a circle next to the wrestling mat.
“Hey, Grandmother,” Riley said, hoping to land on the woman’s good side.
Any normal grandma would ask why everyone was covered in glitter. Or wonder why several of her housemates were bruised and bleeding. Elanora was not a normal grandma.
She whipped around to study Riley. The pheasant feathers in her hair tickled Fred’s nose, and he giggled, then sneezed.
“There are other ways of defending oneself. Brute force is rarely the correct answer.” Her eyes flicked to Gabe’s split lip and narrowed.
“Look, lady,” Nick said. “Your granddaughter is in danger and not from ghosts or dead people. This is a real, live threat.”
“Then you should want her to have all of the tools she requires.”
Nick’s nostrils flared, and Riley stepped between them just in case her boyfriend did something stupid like try to punch her grandmother or in case her grandmother tried to murder him with psychic powers.
“You willallattend my granddaughter’s yoga class and stay for an intensive spiritual defense training.”
“Everyone?” Riley repeated, thinking about Mr. Willicott getting confused in corpse pose and dying on the spot.
“It’s happening,” Josie announced.
All eyes turned to Burt in horror as the dog squatted.
“My God,” Canon hissed.
“That ain’t natural,” Mrs. Penny said, shaking her head.
Burt’s poop sparkled festively in the summer sunshine.
Elanora tut-tutted. “Disgraceful.”
“All in favor of Sparkle Poo as our new codeword say ‘aye,’” Lily called.
“Aye.”
32
9:24 a.m., Tuesday, August 18
Nick stopped short when he walked into Wander’s yoga studio with his posse of weirdos in tow.
