“She’s harmless if you leave her alone,” Smokey said, and a certain gravity rang in his voice.
“What happened?” I asked, back to looking over the completely redone house. It looked like they’d torn down the old one, which had already been completely remodeled, and started over. How the hell had they gotten it done so fast? I’d only been away for two months this time.
“She looks like she escaped an old folks’ home and is suffering from dementia,” Mikey said. “Add to that the gold she was wearing around her neck, and the bright orange clutch she was carrying, which looked stuffed full, and she was a target to be mugged. Easy pickin’s.”
“First of all, you know what a clutch is?”
“Yeah. What am I, stupid?”
“I took you for a man who doesn’t carry purses, actually, but sure. Stupid works,” I said. He huffed out a laugh. “Also, let’s rewind. You tried to mug her?”
“Are you out of your fucking mind did I try to mug her?” Mikey stepped back and gave me an incredulous look. “No, I did not try to fucking mug her. I tried to scare her off your property, realized she was one of your type, and made myself scarce. But I saw her ambling down the street like her back was broken or some shit—it’s not, by the way. That question has been answered. Then I saw three guys approach her. I put a little gas in my step, heading down to sort it out—she’s a whack job, but that doesn’t mean she needs to be harassed in my neighborhood. Those dudes should’ve known better than that. Easy pickin’s or not, this is my spot.”
I nodded to show I was following along. Mikey was a sort of self-appointed neighborhood watch, although he relied on vigilantism rather than engaging with the cops.
“One guy took that bright orange clutch and another pushed her back against the wall and tried to get at her necklaces.” Mikey shook his head. “It happened fast, so I’m not sure of the details, but fuck. In a split second, she had one guy on the ground, unconscious. Another dude was whirled around in some sort of kung fu move and had his dumb brain busted on the wall. The third dude, with the clutch, had already opened it, and he was just staring down into it like his brain had broken. She watched him, like she’d planned for that. So I stopped, because I did not want to know what was in that clutch. The dude kinda shook himself out of it, dropped the clutch, and then tried to turn and run. That old dame was so fucking fast…” Mikey took a step back even though the Red Prophet, still hunched on my front lawn, hadn’t moved forward. “She ran so damn fast. Had that guy on the ground on his back in two shakes. Sat on his chest. Then held him there and started jabbering something at him, I don’t know what. I figured she could handle it and got scarce again.”
“We have zero crime,” Smokey said reverently.
“Zero fucking crime,” Mikey agreed. “That old dame has scared everyone off. We don’t even get the bad sort of fake witches ’n’ shit in the cemetery anymore. She has them scared off, too.”
“You know what they say about appearances,” the Red Prophet said, her voice musical. “It is a weapon like no other.”
“That’s not what they say.” I sighed and started forward.
“She is truly insightful,” Smokey said, keeping step. “I enjoy having her around. She even talked Mikey into borrowing money from me and putting it into the stock market.”
“What did I tell you about talking about my business?” Mikey growled.
“One good turn deserves another,” the Red Prophet said.
I pointed at her as I passed by. “Cut out the crazy. I’m not in the mood. What’s your plan? Are you going to force your way in, or do you plan on loitering?”
“Penny erected the spell, among other things—”
“She’s dirty, too,” Mikey cut in. He still stood on the street, and Smokey had taken up a position on the sidewalk. “I forgot to mention that. She is rough as hell with the sexual innuendos.”
“I know all about the ward. I can feel it. Are you coming in or not?” I stopped at the top of my completely redone porch steps. “Roger said I was supposed to meet you before coming home. I decided not to.”
“Correction—you decided to, and chose your preferred location,” the Red Prophet replied.
“No.” I put out my hand and wasn’t surprised when she clambered up the steps to take it. I pulled her through the ward. If she left, she’d need my help (or Penny’s or Emery’s) to get back in. If I took a blood offering from her, she’d be able to get in by herself. I did not want a blood offering.