Page 5 of Woods of the Raven

“That’s fine. Whatever you think.”

When I set the mug down in front of him, he didn’t look at all interested in trying it, but then took a sip.

“Chief MacBain, might I—”

“Huh,” he said, peering into the cup. “What kind of tea is this again?”

“It’s Earl Grey with lavender, peppermint, cloves, and the other things I mentioned.”

“And you just whip this up yourself?”

I smiled at him. “I do, yes.”

He looked at Pete. “Is the chai good?”

“It’s the best.” Pete passed him his mug. “Try it.”

Chief MacBain took a sip of Pete’s favorite, and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment. “That’s amazing.”

“Thank you.” I sighed, pleased I could ease his mind, if only for a moment.

He took another sip of his own mug. “You should sell this in town. People would love it.”

“He does, once a year at the harvest festival,” Pete told him. “He also sells his Yule garlands, and I need three this year, by the way. I need one for me, one for my mother, of course, and my mother-in-law wants one too, so you can just leave all three here, and I’ll come get them before the festival.”

“I can bring them so you don’t have to drive all the way out—”

“I’d rather come get them myself than run the risk of them getting mixed up with the others’ and not getting one.”

“They’re special, then?” MacBain asked Pete.

“Yeah,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s a witch’s ladder, and you need it in your house all winter, through solstice and Yule, and then in the spring you break it up, bury it in your yard, and return the jute to Xan for next year.”

“What’s it made of?” MacBain asked me.

“Horse chestnuts, cinnamon sticks, dried oranges, and other things. All sustainable, goes right back to the earth.”

He nodded and refocused on Pete. “And if you don’t have one?”

“Oh, I have no idea. My mother bought the first one from Xan’s grandfather years ago. Waiting in line at the festival gives Marina—that’s my wife, Chief—it gives her anxiety, so I promised her this year I’d get them beforehand.”

“Don’t tell a soul I’m setting anything aside for you. If people hear I’m taking orders… Seriously, Pete. I don’t need the headache.”

“I would never do that to you. And I’ll pay for them, you know that.”

“All the money goes to the shelter,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. If you’re paid for your gifts, they’re not gifts. I get it.”

I nodded.

“Shelter?” MacBain inquired.

“Our local animal shelter,” I explained. “The dogs and cats need extra things in the winter—blankets, heaters—so I donate what I get at the festival. We have a no-kill shelter, but still, the animals need forever homes.”

“Do you have animals?”

“I have a cat.” That wasn’t technically a lie since he was a cat sometimes. And the dogs…well, I couldn’t bring that up. Too much to explain there. “But beyond my garden is the forest, then the preserve, which is no place for any domesticated animal.”