10.
Back home, Wolfe read the instructions on the box of poison he'd purchased. He briefly peered inside at the contents and was bemused to find innocent looking little colored pellets. Still…better safe than sorry. Chemicals that made rodents die couldn't be too healthy to touch. The package instructions didn't seem to think breathing it was a large concern, but he would sure feel better about this if he had a mask of some kind, and some gloves too . He went into the garage and rummaged around. There it was! That old gas-mask, a simple version with a couple straps that went over his head. He'd bought it from an army surplus place many years ago when he wanted to dress up like a robot for a school event, and while the costume hadn't won any awards he had never quite wanted to part with it. It had been kicking around in his belongings ever since, and he hoped it still worked.
He wasn't much of a gardener, but he did have some old gardening gloves he could use. He pulled them on and adjusted the straps on the mask. Feeling much more protected, he went back into the kitchen to face the box of colored pellets with its skull and crossbones on it. Now, where to put it? Probably back where the chewed foods had been.
Wolfe began clearing out the pantry to get it into the rear where the damage always showed up first. He pulled a large blue box from the back and considered it. Did instant potato flakes have an expiration date? Soup mix? How about canned milk? Wasn't it supposed to keep sort of forever?
--
The Reverend's eyebrows just kept notching higher and higher as this pair related to him all that they believed. Much of it didn't make any sense to him; in fact, most of it didn't. About the only sensible, normal thing they were suggesting seemed to be visiting Wolfe to set it all straight. They were both perched at the very edges of their chairs, so he tried to put them more at ease, they both seemed so very tense. He turned to a small candy dish he kept on his desk. "Peppermint?"
"Thanks," they both said at once. They looked at one another and almost smiled. That was better. He passed the dish around.
"Now, first of all, let me explain something to you. I'm sure there been some kind of misunderstanding. Wolfe would never hurt anyone, much less poison them. No, let me finish…" he said as they both began again with some nonsense about him wanting fresh ghosts and a visitor being in danger of being murdered at night.
"And either way," he continued, "you must understand that I am not, what did you call it?"
"Invulnerable?"
"Invincible?"
Reverend Peck's eyebrows, which had subsided were notched upward once again. "Right. I'm not either of those things. What I do have is a faith in God, and I know that He protects me. Let me explain to you what I mean…"
"But we know about this stuff. Only priests like you can't be hurt by ghosts and things."
"No, that's not it at all. Any protection I have from the things of this world comes from God, and He gives it to all of His followers equally, not just to the priests or ministers…"
"The what?"
"The, uh, reverends. Like me."
"Ah."
"Here," he leaned back in his chair to fetch a book from the shelf by his desk. "Let me read you something from this Bible here…"
--
By the time they had finished talking and been offered a bit of coffee, some leftover doughnuts from the past Sunday and more peppermints, the afternoon was wearing on towards an early winter evening and they were getting anxious to go. The Reverend didn't think they quite understood the points he had been trying to make, but they were closer. It had been a long time since he'd had two such attentive young people show up to talk with him this way, even if their reasons were a bit odd.
Perhaps, he silently prayed, the truth of such matters would be clearer to them in time; they certainly both had excellent imaginations.
One thing had not changed, and that was their insistence that a visit to Wolfe was in order. He finally agreed to drive up to Wolfe's house with them just to settle them down and find out what, if anything, was really going on. Once they saw how calm and normal Wolfe was, their fantasies would no doubt come back into balance.
"This is great," said Frankie as she climbed into the Reverend's car. "We'll be like, totally safe with you."
"What do you mean?" asked Reverend Peck as he started the engine.
"You have that magic armor you told us about."
"It's not magic," the Reverend patiently explained one more time. "Remember? It's faith in God, and just trusting in His protection. Besides, I don't think there's any danger."
"Whatever you want to call it," she shrugged. "Still sounds like magic to me, all those flaming darts and all." She looked at Bram, who just nodded and shrugged too.
Reverend Peck sighed and pulled out of the parking lot.
--
Ainsley hummed happily as she walked up the hill to Wolfe's house, a neat packet of the magazines under her arm, her hand filled with a large muslin sachet of bayberry and potpourri spices she had made up to address Wolfe's air freshener problem. Once they were married, she would make sure he had no such bachelor-ish problems again. She held it to her nose and inhaled the Christmas-sy scent, straightening the ruffle of red and black plaid she'd chosen to make it seem more masculine. Perfect. She was a bit early, but didn't want to waste any of her time with him this evening; it promised to be wonderful.
It was nearly the dinner hour, and with the sun setting so low in the sky the shadows from the trees drew long squiggled lines across the gravel drive. Her breath wisped up in white puffs in the fading light. Goose and Bunny bounded up to greet her, wagging so hard their entire bodies wagged with them, taking turns shoving their heads under her free hand to be patted. She wondered briefly why they weren't inside as they usually were at this hour. They cocked their heads at her as she shushed them from giving her away and slipped in the unlocked front door to surprise Wolfe.
--