Sherlock followed Savich into the men’s room some thirty minutes later. Ollie Hamish, Savich’s second in command, was at the sink washing his hands when they came in.

“Oh, hi, guys. Congratulations again, Savich. Great work. I just wish I could have been with you.”

“I’m glad to see a man washing his hands,” Sherlock said, and poked him in the arm. “In a few minutes I’m going to be washing my hands, too. After I’ve beaten some sense into my husband here, the jerk. Go away, Ollie, I know you’ll want to protect him from me, and I don’t want to have to hurt both of you.”

“Ah, Sherlock, he’s a hero. Why do you want to hurt the hero? He saved those little boys from the Warlocks and the Ghouls.”

Savich said, “After what I told you about them, do you spell ‘Ghouls’ with a capital G in your head?”

“Yeah, sure, you said there were two of them. It’s one of those strange things that will stay with you. You sure you weren’t smoking something, Savich? Inhaling too much stale hay?”

“I wish I could say yes to that.”

“Out, Ollie.”

Once they were alone, she didn’t take a strip off him, just stepped against him and wrapped her arms around his back. “I can’t say that I’ve never been more frightened in my life, since you and I have managed to get into some bad situations.” She kissed his neck and squeezed him even tighter. “But today, at that damned barn, you were a hot dog, and I was scared spitless, as were your friends.”

“There was no time,” he said against her curly hair. “No time to bring you in. Jesus, I scared myself, but I had no choice. And then those howling wind things were there. I honestly can’t say which scared me more-Tammy Tuttle or whatever it was she called the Ghouls.”

She pulled back a bit. “I really don’t understand any of that. You described it all so clearly I could almost see them whirling through those barn doors. But Ghouls?”