Moira lit an old candle stuck in the carved turnip and placed it by the cracked window, causing shadows to dance across the log walls. Her own little will-'o-'the wisp. She squinted through the glass and fog. The trees were dropping their dying red leaves across the dirt path.

Donning her cloak for the town meeting, she hoped to ward off the cold and dampness. Tonight, the townspeople would be discussing the fen's ghosties. They intended to ask her for suggestions on how to deal with them. Funny. They wanted her help now, but a year ago, the good citizens of this town wanted to chase her out of it because she made herbal remedies. Witch, they had called her. Devil's bride and Devil's familiar were others. She lived on the edge of both the town and the fen, so she didn't mind the ghosties. They really did not scare her. Only the good Lord could do anything about them. She should skip the useless meeting and visit the pub.

When she stepped outside, Moira pulled her cloak tighter around her and walked at a brisk pace. The dampness bothered her the most, but the fen provided privacy, which she valued most of all. After a few minutes, she stumbled over a pair of legs lying across the path. She followed them into the bushes, tentatively touched the man's shoulder, then shook him. "Sir, would you be alright?"

A grimace skewed the man's handsome face. He moaned, rubbed his head, and sat upright. "I slipped on the wet leaves and lost my bearings for a few moments." He slowly looked at Moira from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. "You're some pretty baggage."

Huh. A sweet talker now, is he? Moira smiled. Maybe she would have that drink. "Sir, what would your name be, and would you be carin' to have me take you home?"

The man stood and rubbed his head again. He loomed over Moira. "My name is Lucian. I'd be wanting to have a whiskey at the Crescent Moon little one."

"Then I'll walk you there. I was heading there anyway for a bit o' the whiskey myself."
They walked toward the Crescent Moon. Moira glanced at Lucian. "Do youse always wander around the fen at night?"

Lucian glanced at Moira. "No, little one. I saw a strange light aflicker over there." He pointed toward a big patch of water on the right side of the path with trees growing on its farther edge. "It glowed so lovely. I had to see for meself if it was an angel come to us. I tried to circle around, but then me slipped on the leaves."

An uneasy feeling creeped over Moira, like the one she felt when the ghosties showed up, but this feeling was much more powerful. It was too late to turn back now. She'd have that whiskey and return home to her little candle in the window.

The pub was nearly empty. Lucian faced her. "Would you care to join me?"

Moira nodded yes. Even though she felt uneasy, she would not mind the company. They sat at a corner table near the large fire in the hearth. As she removed her cloak, her forgotten, but blessed Holy Crucifix fell from the right-hand pocket onto the floor. She slid the Crucifix and its broken chain back into the pocket. She had forgotten that she placed it there on her return from the market. She looked at Lucian. He smiled at her, but it didn't reach his eyes. They were black and blank. More uneasiness swept through her, but she took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"What is your name little one?"

A buxom waitress approached. She wore a crisp clean apron and a sleeve of her bodice drooped off her shoulder. She shot Moira a half sneer but smiled at Lucian. "What will you be having Sir?"

Lucian didn't even glance at the woman. "Two whiskies. One for me and one for the lady."

The visibly flustered waitress left with a swish of her skirts.

"My name is Moira."

"What were you doing, Moira, alone in the fen?" Lucian's deep voice sounded so smooth and mesmerizing.

"I intended to go to the town meeting but decided against it."

"Excellent choice. Some people bore me too. Do you live in the fen?"

The waitress returned with the glasses of whiskey and left again as quickly as before.

"No, but it is where I gather many of the roots and plants for my remedies." She took a sip of her whiskey.

"Remedies?" Lucian sipped too.

"Yes, I'd be the local healer for the townspeople."

Lucian leaned in close. "I'd wager that your hands feel so soft," he whispered.

Moira shifted in her chair. Unusual since she wasn't normally a shrinking violet when men flattered her. Yes, she would finish her whiskey, politely say goodbye, and return home. To her surprise, Lucian finished his whiskey in two swallows and left the pub before she did.

The fog had grown much thicker since they entered the pub. Moira needed to look down to see the path in front of her. Near her cottage, a whisper reached her ears.

"Moira," the voice said.

She squinted into the fog. A chuckle came from above her. She looked up. There, in a willow tree, sat Lucian.

"Hello again my lovely Moira."

"You must be the Devil himself," she whispered.

"Yes, I am, and I want your tasty little soul."

"Well, you cannot have it." Moira palmed the Crucifix in her cloak pocket. She stepped closer to the tree. "You have plenty."

Lucian chuckled again. "You're right. I am an avid collector, little one, and yours will add nicely to the thousands I already own."

Moira palmed her Crucifix again. She silently thanked God for Father Mulcahy and his gift. She had helped the poor Father with his aching lame leg. "I don't think so." She lifted her sweaty hand from her pocket, opened her palm, and raised the Holy Crucifix so Lucian, or rather Lucifer, could see it.

Lucifer hissed and spit at her. He climbed higher. "Take that away, you ugly frump! Take it away, you stupid bitch!"

Moira quickly carved a cross into the tree bark with her Crucifix. "I've got you, Lucifer!" She carved crosses in the other trees around the willow too. She looked up from the bottom of the willow. "Are you responsible for all the ghosties that haunt this fen?"

"Yes, I am. It was fantastic fun to watch those fools lose their minds," Lucifer said.

"I will scratch the Crucifixes into stars so you can climb down, but not until you promise me that you will not haunt this place again," Moira said. "And that you will not come after me when you do climb down."

Lucifer hissed and spat. "You think you're so smart, you ugly frump!"

"Promise me," Moira said, "or I will leave you there forever, and then you cannot torment anyone."

Lucifer shook his head, hissed, and spat again. "I promise, you frump! I promise!"

Moira scratched the Crucifixes into stars but did the willow tree's Crucifix last. As soon as she finished scratching, she ran towards the light from her candle in the window. The flame sputtered but flared again. Tomorrow, she would take her Crucifix to the jewelry maker to fix it. The town's citizens never worried about the ghosties again.