I jogged across the empty road, and as I reached out to pull open the door to the bake shop, Corbin’s heavy footsteps sounded off at a fast clip as he ran down the sidewalk.
“Bale! Bale!” he yelled with urgency as he skidded to a stop next to me.
His hand grabbed my bicep hard enough to turn me to face him, dragging me a few feet away from the bakery.
“Corb, what the hell? Where have you b?—”
“Shut up! We’ve got to go. Right now.” His hand shook my arm roughly to emphasize the urgency. “I’ll explain on the way.”
“Okay, relax. Let’s go,” I agreed as I kept pace with him back down from where he had come.
Corbin’s head was on a swivel, eyes twitching this way and that. I had never seen him so freaked out before, making me question what trouble he had gotten himself into. His overgrown black strands of hair hung out of place in front of his eyes.
After rounding the corner, away from prying eyes, he seemed to breathe a little lighter but didn’t stop moving.
“It’s the Town Council,” he said as though it explained everything.
Noticing my raised brow, he further explained.
“They’re planning something big for the fall festival tonight. I overheard it while I was with Maribelle.”
I scoffed in disbelief. “Maribelle? The girl with the lazy eye?”
“Not important, Bale!” he scolded. “Fuck—focus. Whatever they’ve planned isn’t good. The entire Council was talking about sigils and witchy, demonic stuff. Blood oaths, herbs, words that don’t even make sense.”
My hands grabbed the sides of his face and stared him in the eyes. “Tell me the truth, Corbin. Did you get into that bad batch of cider again?”
“I’m serious, Bale!” he growled as he shoved my hands away.
Raising both my hands in front of me harmlessly, I took a deep breath. “Alright. Just calm down, we’ll figure it out together.”
As fate would have it, at that exactmoment, Falston’s sheriff stepped up onto the walkway with us. He wasn’t alone either. Joining him was the rest of the Council.
“Gentlemen, apologies for the interruption, but we have some business to discuss with you both.”
I opted to begin with diplomacy. “Sheriff, good afternoon. I’m afraid Corbin and I have some business of our own. Perhaps after tonight’s opening ceremony?”
“Devil worshippers!” Clearly, Corbin took the less polished approach as he jabbed a finger in their direction accusingly.
None of the Council members blinked an eye. Instead, one of them stepped forward with a toothy grin. “No need to be so hostile, Corbin. We mean no harm. I think if you give us the chance to explain, you will find we have quite the proposition for both of you.”
Before my best friend could dig us a hole deeper than the Grand Canyon, I lifted a hand to him to stem off any protest.
“What type of proposition?” I asked partly out of curiosity and partly to buy us some spare time to determine our next move.
Looking all too smug, the Councilman reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a small brass pendant suspended on a chain.
“This right here,” he started, “is the solution to Falston’s biggest problems.”
It looked like cheap jewelry to me.
“How do you figure?” I glanced atCorbin, then back at the man. “Because it looks like snake oil from a salesman.”
The laughter from all five members of the Town Council echoed more darkly than made me comfortable. Like they all got the joke, and it was at Corbin’s and my expense.
While the group of them found the situation entertaining, Corbin leaned in and whispered into my ear, “We need to get out of here. I don’t like this.”
I couldn’t have agreed more.
