Glo was standing by the table we used for the meat pies. She snatched a garlic clove out of a bin and threw it at Wulf. It hit him in the side of the head and bounced off onto the floor.
“Death to vampires,” Glo said.
Wulf flicked his eyes to the garlic. “If only it was that easy,” he said.
“Lenny’s inheritance got blown up with the chicken, and Diesel has Shirley’s,” I told Wulf.
There was a flash of fire and lots of smoke, and when the smoke cleared, Wulf was gone.
The monkey peeked out from behind Glo. “Eep!”
That pretty much summed it up for all of us.
“I’m impressed,” I said to Glo. “You were really gutsy to throw that garlic at him.”
“Yeah, but now I might fall over,” she said. “I’ve gotta sit down. I need a cupcake or something. Holy bejeezus, he’s one scary guy.”
Clara scooted a chair under Glo, and I gave her a cupcake. The monkey looked freaked, so I gave him a cupcake, too. Everyone took a moment to breathe.
“Okay, I feel better,” Glo said. “I’m not going to throw up or anything.”
“Someone’s pounding on the front door,” Clara said. “I’m ten minutes late to open.”
Glo and I followed Clara into the shop and looked out at Shirley hammering on the door. She was bug-eyed, and her hair was Wild Woman. She was wearing a misbuttoned white shirt, and her skirt was twisted off center.
“Eek! Eek, eek, eeeeek!” Shirley said, charging into the bakery, waving her arms. “Boogie man ramma framma me. Icky poopy.” Shirley gave a shiver and made spitting sounds. “Pthu, pthu.”
&nbs
p; “Something bad happened?” Clara asked.
Shirley nodded her head and gave herself a frantic pat down. “Grabby flabby big boys, bum, scooter pie.” Her eyes narrowed. “Slippery fur forest and brown Betty!”
“We don’t make scooter pies,” Glo said.
Shirley pointed to her crotch. “Scooter pie!”
A wave of nausea slipped through my stomach. “You were strip-searched.”
Shirley put her fingertip to her nose. “Beck.”
“Was it Wulf?” I asked.
Shirley nodded. “And peepee Snatch Bagger.”
“You should go to the police,” Glo said.
Shirley rolled her eyes and pointed to her mouth. “Snot gobble.”
“Yeah, that’s a problem,” Glo said, “but we could translate.”
I gave Shirley a cupcake to calm her down. “Language isn’t the biggest problem. I’m not sure the police can do anything with Wulf. Either he’s a figment of our imaginations, or else he actually disappears in a puff of smoke.”
Diesel strolled in from the kitchen. “The smoke is just theatrics. Wulf thinks it’s fun. The problem would be with containment.”
“What are you doing back at the bakery?” I asked him. “Did you know Wulf was here?”
“No. I knew food was here.”