“No.”

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

Cheerfully I pulled down our makeshift door.

“I could carry you, then return. They might think I’m only one monster who’d left the way I came.”

“But then you’ll have to hike for two weeks before I can contact you again.”

“That’s bad?”

“If I need your help or find the princeling before that, yes.”

She groaned and gave me a sour look.

As though it were my fault there was only one spare key and I couldn’t just give it to her.

Actually, there were two. But I or Gran lost the other one years ago. Eventually I’ll find it. Maybe…

Though, if House hasn’t found it yet, then probably not…

In any case! It won’t be found today, so we needed to use my strategy.

With an irritated sigh, she held up her hands.

“What can I do?”

I grinned and handed her a canning jar I’d brought from House.

“You can spread this around.”

“What is it?”

“Troll pee.”

I’m pretty sure she’s going to hate me forever. Based on the look she gave me.

It’s probably a good thing I didn’t mention I mixed it in old goat’s blood. (I’d been saving for a different potion.)

I climbed back into our tree and studied the wall.

Assuming that blob to the right was the garrison, and assuming this fairy tale place used horses and not cars, I predicted we had maybe a half hour before those dudes came running.

Satisfied, I climbed down and took a second jar to the wall. This one was all goat's blood, and I cheerfully splashed it everywhere I could reach.

Humming now, I pulled out jar number 3 and my secret weapon.

The drone whirred with an unhappy squeal as I used it to fly the open and sloshing jar upward. This one was troll pee again. And all I had to do was knock it hard enough to spill on top of the wall.

Everything was going great!

Until my invited guests came much earlier than expected.

I heard the first heavy footsteps just as Ghana booked it out from the tree line. Her expression was one of grim concentration.

“I’m not ready!”

“Too bad!”

She threw me over her shoulder as she ran. In the jolts I dropped my remote control.

There was a crash of glass above and a horrifying sprinkle on my neck as Ghana climbed one handed. Something fell past us and crashed to the ground.

“My drone!”

She, of course, ignored me and I held onto my bag for fear of what else I'd lose.

We’d barely reached halfway when the summoned monsters exploded from the treeline. They raced toward us with wild, rolling eyes and bellows of excitement.

“Ok, you can hurry now!”

Ghana managed an annoyed grunt.

The first monster reached the bottom of the wall and crashed into it with a bellow. Then frantically began licking whatever it could reach.

“Gross!”

The second monster got creative and jumped on the first one’s back. Using it to jump up at our legs.

I yelped but Ghana, awesome Ghana!, was watching. She let go of the wall, dropped onto the beast’s head, and used it as a springboard to get to the top of the wall.

Grabbing the edge, she yanked both of us up.

My heart was pounding like crazy as she dropped me on top of the wall. Then while she walked away, I crawled to the edge to look down.

Below, three more monsters had joined the frenzy. It was only a matter of time before they got to the top of the wall.

Meanwhile, Ghana was busy looking over the other side. Probably searching for a way down. Something stung my knee. I looked down and gagged in horror.

She’d dropped right next to the mess of pee and broken glass.

I turned sad and reproachful eyes on her.

“Ewww, Ghana! And my drone and remote are gone!” I wailed.

“Shut up. Let’s get out of here.”

She didn’t bother asking before she pulled me over her shoulder again and climbed down the other side.

I will never, ever admit how hard my heart was pounding.

And how glad I was to land on dirt and walk out the shakes.

Ghana didn’t give me time to recover. She immediately began walking at a pace that forced me to jog. Away from the wall.

I grumbled, took just enough time to pour out one last batch of goat's blood, then followed. My backpack clinking with empty bottles.

In the distance there was a farmhouse. We kept our heads low, half running, until we spotted the calvary coming. Then we forced ourselves to walk at a more leisurely pace while Ghana pulled the hood of one of my hoodies up close to her face.

I kept looking over my shoulder in fascination.

A real band of horsemen warriors. Soldiers. Whatever they were. Attacking monsters! And dealing with them quickly, too.

I was in fantasy movie heaven!

Most of the monsters had stayed on the wall, but a few that had climbed over to get at my last jar of goat's blood. None of them had gone any further than that.

“Are you sure they couldn’t tell we crossed?”

Ghana grunted. Which I decided was either ‘Don’t make me answer stupid questions,’ or, ‘I don’t know and don’t bother me.’

At the farmhouse we hid behind a barn and quietly observed the activity. There were a half-dozen people coming and going, doing the odd farm work stuff.

What we needed was a door.

Somewhere out of the way and which the occupants of the farm won’t look at too closely.

Ghana finally pointed to an old shed that was being used as a chicken coop.

The front door was propped open but we could see through the building to a second door at the back.

When we were pretty sure the coast was clear, we made a dash across the yard. I already had the key out, ready to slide into a knothole, since the door was being held shut with leather twine instead of a lock.

While I was putting a ‘don’t see me’ spell on the key, Ghana undid the latch.

We hurried into the living room and slammed the door behind us.

“You are-” Ghana leaned on her knees. Gasping and shooting me glares.

“Amazing? Brilliant? Gorgeous?”

“Insane.”

Ah, well, that works, too.

I walked toward the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“Someone got troll piss all over me.” I looked over my shoulder. “I’m going to take a shower and read an inappropriate romance until nightfall.”

I bounced my way upstairs, listening to her grumbles as I went.

***

Hansel

The body still had its eyes open.

And no sign of what killed him. No stab wounds, bruising, or anything. Anyone could assume it was heart failure or some other disease.

Except when Hansel put a hand on the man’s bare skin, he felt the fading pulse of magic. He looked up and gave his partner a nod.

“Damn it!” 

Abel threw back his head in a sigh.

Hansel nodded agreement and stood up. Gesturing to one of their assistants, he handed the woman his gloves. It had been useless to wear them. The amount of magic lingering on the corpse had been so small that Hansel was forced to use his bare hand to detect it.

“Have them do a full autopsy. See if there are any clues on his body.”

Abel pressed a hand to his temples, rubbing them.

“I’m getting sick of dead ends.”

Hansel didn’t think that was worth answering. Dead ends were the least of the problem.

Now that he was done checking for magic, their assistants rushed. Ready to finish combing the crime scene for a third time, then clean up.

They’d even brought a camera. Another useful invention from the Alchemist Tower. This portable version came out two years ago.

Even though the bigger, bulkier version was in existence before then, until this small one came around the investigation teams still used illustrators. It was just easier to draw the scene than to set up cameras.

Leaving the bulkier, and better quality, cameras for rich aristocrats to hire for portraits.

“What do we do now?”

Hansel looked sideways at Abel as they walked out.

“You should go home. You look terrible.”

Abel winced and drooped miserably.

“Gretal… still isn’t talking to me.”

I didn’t ask, Hansel thought.

“I’d rather be working.” Abel straightened up. “Where next?”

Hansel grimaced. Which was apparently enough information.

“To the Bard Guild again?”

“How am I supposed to find someone based only on the assumption that they’re some sort of entertainer? Do you know how many people are registered with the Guild?”

“I suppose it could be a music teacher.”

“Or a joker on his tenth beer at the pub.”

Hansel slammed the side of his fist into a light pole. Glaring at the ground.

“Why don’t we take a break?”

“His Majesty would skin me.”