They both laughed, knowing I was full of it, and disappeared inside. I continued to lug the overfilled trash bag down the brick sidewalk, dodging clusters of people buying cups of hot cider from a street vendor, skirting a crowd gathered to listen to a busking guitarist who went by Freddy Krooner and dressed exactly like the terrifying Wes Craven character of a similar name.
“I put a spell on you,” he crooned into the microphone, gripping the stand with knived fingers. “Because you’re mineeeee….”
Freddy’s voice faded as I stepped off the brick mall into the narrow alleyway that snaked behind Broomsticks Bakery. I was gasping for air by that point. Half-dragging the bag, I prayed it would not split open as I hefted it upward.
Thankfully, I managed to deposit it into the dumpster without incident, stumbling back a step as it sailed from my hands and landed in the bottom with a dull thud. Less thankfully, my heeled sole slid into a puddle of something slimy in the process. I glanced down to see what I’d stepped in, praying it would not be blood from another animal sacrifice. I was relieved to see it was merely a rotten banana peel, brown and molding.
Fixated as I was on wiping my shoe clean against the edge of the dumpster, I did not hear my attacker approach. Not until he was standing directly behind me. The slight scuff of a tan construction boot finally made me glance up, and I found myself staring directly at a wall of flannel — beneath which lay an impressively broad chest, across which two equally impressive muscular arms were currently crossed.
Eek!
So much for keeping my senses honed to danger.
“Gwendolyn Goode?”
“Um,” I squeaked, trying not to cower beneath the seriously angry stare the flannel-clad lumberjack was aiming at me. “That depends. What do you want with her?”
“Just answer the question.”
“You first,” I retorted.
“No,” he growled. “You.”
“You!”
“You— Fuck, this is ridiculous!” The man’s light blue eyes flared with exasperation. “What are you, in kindergarten? Just answer the damn question!”
“Sorry, I’m not at my most accommodating when I’m being accosted in alleyways!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who said anything about accosting? I’m not accosting.” His hands — which were each approximately the size of a honey-baked ham — lifted in a placating gesture that did very little to assuage my worries. “I just wanna ask you a couple questions, that’s all.”
“Okay,” I agreed, heart hammering. “Ask them when we’re not alone, next to a dumpster where you can conveniently dispose of my body.”
The lumberjack’s eyes widened. “Jesus, lady, it’s broad daylight.”
“And?”
“You think I’m gonna off you in broad daylight? You’re crazy!”
“Yes. That’s right. Iamcrazy.” I dropped my voice down an octave, hoping it had a menacing effect. “You don’t want to mess with a crazy woman. There’s no telling what she’ll do when backed into a corner.”
Menacingdid not translate as well as I’d hoped. Lumberjack man was now staring at me like I had a few screws loose. That was fine. I wasn’t trying to win a congeniality contest, I was trying to get back to civilization without ending up featured on a true crime podcast where two bored thirty-something housewives took it upon themselves to uncover the truth of my gruesome disappearance.
Gulping in some much-needed air, I took a few steps around him, but he blocked my path with his gargantuan form.
“Move out of my way,” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“Look, I just wanna talk to you,” he insisted, stepping nearer, forcing me to backpedal toward the dumpster. “I’m not gonna do nothing—“
“Don’t come any closer!”
He froze mid-step. His ham-sized hands did the placating gesture again. “Okay, okay. Fuck, you’re paranoid.”
“Better paranoid than dead.” I planted my hands on my hips and immediately regretted it. They probably smelled like trash and, thus, so too would my pretty wool skirt. “You have point two seconds before I start screaming bloody murder, so I suggest you talk fast.”
He scowled. At least, I think he did. It was difficult to tell beneath his bushy, red beard. “Your psychic. Zelda. You seen her?”
I blinked, momentarily stunned. This was not where I had foreseen this conversation heading. “You’re looking for Madame Zelda?”