Chapter 5

Vlad

I finish getting dressed in a hurry. Not only do I not want to be late to work, but I don't want to spend any time away from Gertrude that I don't have to. This is my chance, my one-in-a-million shot to get with the witch of my dreams and I'm not going to blow it.

I must have walked up too silently back to the door when I'm done because Gertrude is still leaning against the wood and tumbles into the room when I yank it open suddenly. Without missing a beat, I catch her, steadying her on her feet. She feels good in my arms.

"Oops," she says. Is it my imagination or is her tone a little breathless? A vampire can hope.

"No harm done," I respond, still holding onto her a little longer, lingering with my arms around her.

"Well, we should get you to work," she reminds me, straightening up and stepping out of my embrace. I'm disappointed for a moment, but then I have a thought.

"Right you are," I say, giving another smile. "Usually I fly to work to get there on time." Vampires can summon a set of large bat wings to fly on their back and it's my favorite mode of transportation.

"Great," she replies. "I'll grab my broom."

"That might be a little tricky with this," I remind her, holding up the wrist with the glowing string. "I'd hate to accidentally get too far from you and pull you off your broom."

"What should we do then?" she asks. "You're going to be late."

"I'll carry you," I say matter-of-factly, even though my pulse races at the thought of holding Gertrude in my arms.

"Won't you get tired?"

I snort at the idea. "I'm a vampire. We're very strong and you're not very big. Don't worry about it."

She still looks a little hesitant. "But won't that be, I don't know, a little . . . intimate?"

I can only hope so. Aloud I say, "It will only be as intimate as we let it be, right? I promise I won't do anything to make you feel uncomfortable."

She sends me a shy smile that lights up my whole world. "I believe that. I trust you, Vlad."

Those words spear me through. She trusts me . The hope that I've been feeling all morning grows bright like the sun in my chest. Trust is a lot of things, but it most especially is the best basis for a relationship. And what I wouldn't give to be in a relationship with Gertrude Nightshade.

"Great," I respond, somehow keeping my voice even. "Let's get going then."

∞∞∞

FLYING THROUGH THE air with Gertrude in my arms is everything that I hoped it would be. Her arms are wrapped securely around my neck, my arms supporting her back and under her knees. She's cradled against my chest like a bride being carried over the threshold by her groom. That fills me with longing, as the mental image of Gertrude in a wedding dress, walking toward me comes to mind. My arms tighten slightly around the precious witch. How can she not know that she's got me wrapped around her tiny fingers?

It goes without saying that I enjoy my morning commute even more than normal. Usually I enjoy the sights and sounds of the village from the sky, the ever-falling snow over the Christmas Neighborhood in the distance, the forever-fall foliage of the Halloween neighborhood beneath me, the bats flying by. I can even see the pink floral tips of the trees in the Valentines Neighborhood to my right as I veer toward City Hall. But this time, as I fly, I feel Gertrude looking around, admiring the scenery with me and it feels special.

"I don't go flying very often anymore," the witch remarks as we get to the village center, where the City Hall building and the wishing fountain rests. "I live within walking distance of my shop, so it doesn't seem worth it. I forgot how much I like seeing the village from up here."

"It is lovely," I agree, looking down at the witch in my arms. Somehow, though, I feel like my view is prettier .

We come in for a landing, flying down to the large steps that lead to City Hall. I flap my wings to slow down and then gently touch down on the steps. At that moment, the doors burst open, and my banshee secretary, Bridget Shadesglow, comes hurrying toward me.

"Mayor Everdark, where have you been?" she shrieks, hurting my ears. Banshee voices are grating at the best of times, but even more when they shout. "The pumpkin farmers have been here for at least ten minutes waiting on you and . . ." she suddenly stops, realizing for the first time that I'm holding someone in my arms. ". . . and who is this?" she asks diplomatically, working to modulate her voice.

"This is Gertrude Nightshade, a successful entrepreneur of our neighborhood," I introduce. "She's going to be . . . shadowing me today." I don't mention that we're tied together and can't leave each other's sides. Bridget will freak out if I tell her I've been put under a spell.

"Hmm . . ." Bridget says, narrowing her glowing blue eyes a fraction. She's always been more observant than I would sometimes like. "Well, if she's going to be shadowing you, perhaps you should put her down."

Reluctantly, I place Gertrude down on her feet. It was nice while it lasted.

"Lead the way to the picking, Bridget," I say brightly, even though I'd much rather go to my office and spend time alone with Gertrude.

With a little smart snap of her heels, Bridget turns and floats back into City Hall and Gertrude and I follow.

"Is this the picking of the City Hall pumpkin?" Gertrude asks. She's walking fast to keep up with my long legs, I realize, since the string doesn't let us get too far away.

"Yep," I reply, slowing my pace to account for her narrower strides. I don't want her to strain herself. "We have to pick out the pumpkin that will be carved into a jack-o-lantern and go on the top of the wishing fountain for the Halloween Welcoming Ball. The pumpkin farmers are hyper-competitive about it every year."

"That's because the winning farmer also gets first dibs to supply the pumpkins for the Thanksgiving Neighborhood's feast next month," Gertrude tells me conspiratorially.

"I didn't know that," I say, surprised. This is the first I'm hearing about it. "Is it just this year?"

"Oh, the same bet happens every year," the witch assures me. "It has created a somewhat unfriendly rivalry between all the farmers. Things get pretty competitive behind the scenes"

"And how do you know this?"

"Oh, all of them have tried bribing me to make them a growing potion and not the others at some point." Gertrude grins.

I love her smile and how easily she gives them to me. It lightens my whole day. "That's against the rules," I point out as we turn a corner. We should almost be at the atrium with all the pumpkins. "The contest clearly states that the pumpkin entered into the contest has to be organic and magic-free."

"Oh, I know. I told them that I'd either give all of them a potion or none of them. Which made them grumble, but no one can say that I'm not being fair."

"Well, I guess this all adds an additional level of pressure to me," I tease.

"Oh, don't worry," Gertrude assures me. "They each sell all of their pumpkins every year. No one's losing the farm over this bet, it's just a prestige thing."

With her words, we're at the atrium and I hold open the glass doors for Gertrude to walk through. She gives me a little smile and a wink before walking through and I swear I feel my heart flutter. How can she be so perfect?

The farmers in the atrium sit in tense silence as we enter, sitting in little factions in each corner. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. It's obvious that some (most likely) unfriendly words have been said before we showed up. It happens every year, but at least now I know why it's such a big deal to them. Sheesh, who knew that they have a standing bet riding on this? Eight absolutely gigantic pumpkins are already in a row in the middle of the courtyard, ready to be judged. All of them look the same to me, but I would never voice that thought out loud. It'd cause a riot.

Well, time to get the ball rolling. "Welcome, everyone," I say, turning on the charm, "to the annual City Hall Pumpkin Picking! We appreciate you all for participating and taking the time to be here. Halloween is just around the corner and we need to get City Hall looking festive in time for the ball. So, let's . . ."

"Wait a minute," Silas, one of the farmers says, "What's Gertrude doing here?"

There's a mumble through the gathered farmers, repeating the question. Technically, as Halloween Mayor, I'm supposed to do the judging and picking alone. The change is making the farmers uneasy.

Thinking fast, I take Gertrude's hand and pull her forward, saying, "Ms. Nightshade is here in an official capacity. She'll be, uh . . . testing the pumpkins to make sure no one's used a growing potion."

A little furor erupts at my words.

"Are you calling us cheaters?"

"Well, I never!"

"Growing potions? Just do the judging!"

"There's never been an inspector before!"

"If no one's used a growing potion, then there's no need to argue about Ms. Nightshade's inspecting them," I say firmly and loudly enough to cut above the din. "Anyone that doesn't want their pumpkin checked by Ms. Nightshade is free to exit the competition."

That silences the grumbles, but all the farmers give each other stony stares, before shrugging.

"She can check mine," Silas says finally. "I ain't got nothin' to hide."

"Alright, then let's begin," I say, stepping forward. I realize that I'm still holding Gertrude's hand and reluctantly let it go. I'm acting in the capacity of mayor, after all. I need to be professional.

At the first pumpkin, Gertrude and I stop to ooh and aah over the gourd appropriately, soothing the ruffled feathers from before. We start checking it all around and when we both bend over to check the bottom Gertrude mumbles to me, "Could have given a witch a little warning, Mr. Mayor. Now I'm going to be on all their bad lists."

"Sorry," I murmur back. "It was all I could think of to explain your presence."

Gertrude gives me an understanding smile and then turns back to the pumpkin. Suddenly she frowns. She rubs her finger along the thick rind of the squash and then sticks it in her mouth, making a bitter face.

"Ummm . . ." she whispers. "This is a little awkward . . ."

"What is it?"

She gives me a wry look before whispering, "This one did use a growing potion."

"What?" I say, stunned. When I made up the reason Gertrude was here, I didn't think she'd actually be necessary. "Are you sure?"

"Yep. I'd stake my professional reputation on it. It's low grade, not like something you'd get at my shop, but definitely magical interference in growing. I'd bet my favorite hat on it being homemade."

"Well that disqualifies them," I say firmly. "The rules of the contest state magic-free pumpkins only."

"Whose pumpkin is this?" she asks.

"I don't know. It's blind judging. We'll just have to announce that it's disqualified at the end when we give the results."

"What are you whispering about?" interrupts Betty, another farmer in the group.

"Confidential judge stuff," I reply easily, before turning back to Gertrude. She's already moved onto the next pumpkin, this time putting her face next to it and sniffing. It's adorably odd looking and I move closer to her.

This time she shoots me a worried look.

"What?" I ask.

"This one used a growing potion too. Also homemade."

My jaw drops. "You're kidding."

She shrugs. "Nope. This one is magically enhanced too."

At the third pumpkin, I cease to be surprised when Gertrude announces that they used a growing potion as well. And the fourth. And the fifth. But by the time we get to the last pumpkin and find that every single farmer cheated, I have a hard time keeping a straight face. It's just so ridiculous that I almost burst out laughing.

Gertrude gives me an amused look, obviously sharing my opinion of how ridiculous this is, before whispering, "What are you going to do? City Hall needs a jack-o-lantern for the ball. But everyone used magic to enhance their pumpkins!"

That is a good point. City Hall does need a pumpkin, and who knows how long the farmers have been cheating? We've never had an inspection before, so who knows how long they've been using potions and getting away with it? I ruefully shake my head.

"I'll think of something," I whisper back to Gertrude before reaching out my hand to help her up from her crouched position. She takes it and I pull her upright, still secretly thrilling at the connection of our hands.

Turning to face the crowd, I put on my sternest frown.

"Well, I think we all know what we found," I say, imbuing my voice with almost fatherly disappointment.

All the farmers are looking at their shoes or the sky, none looking straight in my eyes. My frown almost cracks with a grin. It's just so funny that every single farmer cheated. But I fight the instinct to smile and continue, "Well, I think it's only fair to call this one a draw."

The farmers' eyes snap back toward mine and some bickering starts again.

"That's not fair!"

"Just pick one!"

"She doesn't know what she's talking about!"

That last one banishes my amusement for real.

"Alright, that's enough out of all of you," I snap, my affable mayor persona disappearing. "Ms. Nightshade is one of the most talented potion makers in all of Holiday Village. Her expertise is unimpeachable. If she says that all of you used growing potions, I believe her."

"All of us?" echoes the farmers, before turning on each other.

"I knew you couldn't get a gourd that big without magic!"

"Well what about you? You used one too!"

On and on they argue. It's exhausting. I'm about to yell at all of them again, when a shrill whistle goes off at my side. The sound startles the shouting crowd quiet and we all turn to see Gertrude with her fingers in her mouth. When we're all staring at her, she puts both her hands on her hips, the string at our wrist tugging on me slightly, and glares.

"Alright, everyone, knock it off. You should all be ashamed of yourselves!" declares Gertrude. "This contest is supposed to be in good fun, a way for the village to get into the Halloween spirit and you've all turned it into something ugly. It's more than fair for the mayor to call it a draw. By all rights, you should all be disqualified and the contest canceled!"

I have never seen Gertrude with so much fire before, but I like it. She has my back when it counts and I appreciate that. She really is my dream girl. Her speech seems to do the trick too, because all of the farmers are back to looking at their shoes.

"Sorry . . ."

Sorry, Gertrude."

"Sorry, Mr. Mayor."

"You should all be sorry," I concede. "Ms. Nightshade is right. But, in light of not wanting to punish the whole town for your antics, I'll call this a draw."

"But if it's a draw," protests Silas, "whose pumpkin is going on the top of the wishing fountain?"

That's a very good question. I don't know the answer either. But Gertrude steps forward and says, "How about we change the contest? You all have some beautiful pumpkins, the growing potions made sure of that. But how about you take them home and carve them? We'll meet here before the Halloween Welcoming Ball to judge your work and the best jack-o-lantern gets put on top of the wishing fountain and the rest can be decorations around the village square. That way your hard work doesn't go to waste and the whole village can enjoy them, but no one gets rewarded for cheating."

It's an elegant solution and the farmers all look more enthusiastic about it than I would have expected.

"An excellent idea, Ms. Nightshade," I say, beaming at her. "On the night of the ball, we'll all meet here again an hour before midnight, and pick a winner. But next year, I expect everyone to actually obey the rules."

"And I'll be there next year to make sure that you do," Gertrude says sternly, looking out over the farmers.

The farmers murmur amongst themselves and then Silas steps forward, once again the voice of the group. "Alright. We'll go along with this. And, for what it's worth, we are sorry that we used the growing potions. The contest just went to our heads a little. Won't happen again."

"We'll see that it doesn't," I say. Then I put out my elbow in open invitation to Gertrude, who, to my delight, takes my arm and I lead her proudly out of the atrium.