“How very . . . quaint.” Lee glanced around the room at the decor, which consisted of Christmas lights, vintage beer signs, and creative taxidermy that had seen better days. “What the hell is that supposed to be?”

“It’s a jackalope,” I actually have a soft spot in my heart for taxidermists; it happens to be my grandfather’s trade, although he doesn’t go in for that sort of novelty work. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been to Bob’s before.”

Lee shrugged. “What can I say? Until recently, my life in Pemkowet has been a sheltered one.” He poured three glasses of beer from the pitcher the waitress had brought us and hoisted one. “Here’s to it becoming a hell of a lot more interesting.”

“You’re in pretty good spirits for a guy who just got tossed around by a vampire,” I observed.

He grinned. “I’m a guy who’s dating a vampire’s sister. That’s pretty badass, don’t you think?”

Jen muttered something incoherent into her beer glass, but on the whole, she didn’t look displeased.

We rehashed the Bethany incident while we waited for our food. When our burgers arrived, the waitress set a fresh pitcher of beer that none of us had ordered on the table along with our plates. “Courtesy of your friends at the bar.”

“What friends?” Lee’s voice took on a suspicious edge. “Is this a joke?”

Oh, gah. I’d sort of hoped that paranoid streak of his had become a thing of the past, but high school damage runs deep.

Jen gave him a mild look. “Let’s not jump to conclusions, okay?”

Scanning the bar, I caught sight of Dawn Evans swiveling on her stool. With a shy smile, she raised a beer bottle in our direction. “It’s okay. I know who it’s from,” I said, extricating myself from the table. “Be right back.”

I squeezed through the milling throng to where Dawn and Scott were sitting side by side at the bar. Although I’d touched base with Dawn to make sure the charms Casimir had provided to ward off the Night Hag had worked, I hadn’t seen either of them since the morning of Scott’s attack.

They looked good, both of them; calmer and clear-eyed. “Thanks.” I clinked my glass against Dawn’s bottle. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Oh, ah know,” she said in her Alabama drawl, stroking Scott’s arm. “We just wanted to thank yuh.”

“We heard Chief Bryant announced that you caught the bitch.” Scott’s left eyelid twitched at the mention of the Night Hag, but his gaze was steady. Still haunted, but steady. “She was real, wasn’t she?”

I nodded. “Too damn real by half.”

“Yeah.” Scott nodded, too. “I’ve seen some bad shit in my day, but I don’t ever remember feeling so goddamn helpless. It’s good to know that there’s someone out there fighting the good fight and holding the line against things that go bump in the night. Because that shit? That shit’s uncanny. That shit can make you crazy. That shit can kill you.” He took a swig of beer, eyeing me. “I don’t know what you had to do to put an end to it, Ms. Johanssen, but I know there was a price. There’s always a price.”

“It was worth it.” At least I hoped it was.

“Well, we sure do ’preciate it,” Dawn murmured. “And it ain’t all bad, is it?” Her face brightened, touched with lingering wonder. “Were yuh at the tree-lightin’ ceremony tonight? Did yuh see them frost fairies?”

“Yeah, I did.” I smiled. “Beautiful, weren’t they?”

She smiled back at me. “Sure were. Yuh won’t see that anywhere else in the world, will yuh? And that little girl singin’ a solo sure was somethin’.” Dawn gave her husband’s arm another affectionate squeeze. “Scott thinks she should try out for The Voice, but ah still lahk American Idol.”

“Nah.” Scott took a pull on his beer bottle. “Idol’s played out.”

“You seem like you’re doing a lot better,” I said to him in a low voice. “Are you, um, still sleeping okay?”

“Yeah.” Scott nodded. “I have good days and bad. But it’s better.” He shuddered. “That bitch caught me hitting rock bottom. I don’t ever want to go back there.” Turning on his barstool, he stuck out his hand. “Put ’er there, soldier. You saved my life.”

I shook his hand, feeling self-conscious. “Oh, God, it’s nothing. I mean, it doesn’t compare to what you’ve been through. Thank you for the beer. Speaking of which, I should get back to my friends. I think their burgers are getting cold waiting for me.”

Dawn Evans caught my shoulder as I turned to go. “It weren’t nuthin’, honey,” she said softly. “Don’t yuh ever think that. Yer fightin’ a different kind of battle, that’s all.”

I shrugged. “Just trying to keep the peace.”

She gave me a sweet, weary smile. “Aren’t we all?”

I made my way back to the table and explained the situation to Jen and Lee, or at least as much of the situation as discretion permitted, while we dug into our burgers. His paranoia allayed, Lee was surprisingly understanding. I’d forgotten that Ben Lewis, one of his two close friends from Pemkowet High’s nerd posse, was serving in Afghanistan. Ben had been a short, stocky, quiet little guy, the Hobbit to Lee’s Skeletor. It was hard to imagine him in combat, but then, it was hard to imagine Dawn Evans driving a Humvee, too.