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She shook off his touch. If he didn't know now, he would soon. Father Bean had been determined to mend the rift between the two communities since his Volkswagen van broke down outside the towns in 1972.
Lonnie stumbled backwards; her shoulder slammed into the tree trunk. Cinders and snakes, the stupid skeleton seemed to have wrapped itself around her feet.
"Ah, Nicholas, there you are." Father Bean pushed aside the branch of weeping willow, waddled through the white picket fence and trod onto the dead grass. "I believe you would serve the communities better inside the church. Indeed, I must insist--" He faltered mid-step. Brown eyes widened in surprise as they gazed at her.
"Father Bean, allow me to introduce my savior, Miss..."
"Lynch." Lonnie hefted the skeleton off the ground, tossed him over her shoulder and strode toward the clergyman. The priest would protect her from The Dugan.
"Avalon, child." Father Bean's brown robes swept over the grass as he strode forward. Strong arms wrapped her in his embrace. Incense wafted off him, mingling freely with the pungent fragrance of homegrown maryjane. "It is good to have you home."
"Father." Lonnie returned his embrace, resisted tugging on the gunmetal ponytail winding down his back. No one knew what denomination had ordained the aging draft-dodging hippie, but everyone respected his calling. Besides serving as preacher and justice of the peace, he was the only mediator the two feuding towns respected. And she would need a mediator. A Holly jail cell was no place for a witch.