Page 110 of The Sasquatch and the Hairdresser

Hal pulls his phone out of an apron pocket and calls Astraea to tell her she and Rowan need to find us by Laurelis’s stall.

By the time they arrive, there are half a dozen people singing and dancing up and down Main Street. All different songs. Most not really hitting the right notes. In the front is Max, still tottering on his silver platforms, and Targan still right behind him, ready to catch him if he takes a wrong leap.

Rowan snags the jar of cider from Laurelis and inspects it. “There’s warped magic residue on this one, for sure.” He takes some time to examine her other jugs and sets aside two more that are questionable.

Astraea rubs her temples. “Please tell me those who’ve been affected will be fine.”

Rowan surveys the crowd. “There shouldn’t be any lasting negative effects, but I can place a ward on each of them that should dull the psychedelic magic symptoms until they completely wear off.”

She marches him into the throng of onlookers and Rowan gets to work helping folks. As he makes his way through the small throng, the singing dissipates and the dancing slows.

Max, of course, is the last man standing.

Or rather, singing.

By now he’s moved on to “I Am What I Am,” from La Cage aux Folles. I actually know that one because one of my former drag queen roommates used to sing this number at some of his shows that I went to. And I’ve gotta admit, it is very Max, and a perfect finale to his public performance.

When he belts out the last line of the song, the crowd whistles and cheers.

Flushed and bright-eyed, Max gives a theatrical bow and then falls into Targan’s side with a delighted grin.

“I’m taking him home,” Targan says, gazing down at the man with obvious adoration. Princess Peach is still cradled in the orc’s arm and leans over to give her guardian a quick lick.

Max giggles.

“This has definitely been a Harvest Festival to remember,” I tell Hal after Targan departs.

“For so many reasons,” he agrees.

After that, peace returns to the festivities and our energy starts to flag.

By dinnertime, Elvira makes it clear she is ready to eat, so we decide to head home.

“We can return for the after-hours fun if you’d like,” Hal offers as he unlocks the front door.

“Do we have to go back?” I ask.

“Not at all. Kassiel and Emrys are in charge of evening events.”

My shoulders slump with relief. “Thank fuck. I know I probably sound way too old for my age, but I’m exhausted and kinda just want to cuddle and chill with you tonight. Maybe we could watch that old movie you told me about when we were dancing.”

Hal beams at me. “That sounds like the perfect night in to me.”

After we feed Elvira, we reheat some leftovers and settle in to watch Sabrina together. It’s a far cry from some of the wild nights in the city during my teens and twenties, but I don’t miss any of that. Now, I want nothing more than nights like this with me, Hal, and Elvira.

Just as the movie’s ending, a haggard-looking Rowan arrives with luggage and Angelica in tow.

“Everything okay?” Hal asks him, helping with his bag.

Rowan cracks his back and yawns. “Yeah. I’m just beat. It’s been a busy few days, and I need some serious rest. The motel’s okay, but there are some rowdy guests staying there right now.”

Angelica gives Elvira a suspicious side-eye, but our baby girl remains quiet and calm in the familiar’s presence.

“My mage-guardian requires appropriate time and quiet to enter a healing sleep,” Angelica explains in a snooty tone.

I blink at her. “Uh… is there anything we can do to help with that?”

Rowan chuckles. “I just need a quiet room and not to be disturbed for a good solid twelve hours at least.”