Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (103)

My heart catapulted into my throat. “You have to be joking. There’s no way. We just met.”

She giggled as I tried to steady my hand enough to apply the unforgiving hue of scarlet. “Honey, I’m surprised he hasn’t already. The way he looks at you . . . It’s like he wants to eat you for dessert.” I blushed the same color as my lipstick. My very forward friend plucked a nice pinkish berry shade from my kit and continued, “Plus, you know who he is. What he is. That’s not information we share lightly. Or at all, really. Lots of us go our entire existences never telling a soul. I imagine Ames, Ghost, has seen every person, friend, or lover he’s had live and die in his time.”

“Wow, that’s depressing,” I murmured, dabbing the corner of my lips with a tissue. “There’s a liner in there named Midnight Blackberry that matches that lipstick perfectly.” She thanked me and rummaged through the various tubes. Ghost couldn’t be that serious about me, could he? What I felt for him was deeper than anything I’d ever experienced. I may have been sleeping with a demon, but being with him was the most heavenly experience I could have imagined. We hadn’t said anything about . . . exclusivity, though the thought of him being with anyone else sent a rage of jealousy through my body. I didn’t want him to be with anyone else. And he clearly didn’t want his friends flirting with me. But then again, he let them watch us fuck. And I watched them. And it was the most erotic and sexiest thing that had ever happened to me. I couldn’t deny that there were rosebuds of emotion burrowing into my soul toward Onyx and Wolfgang, too. And I didn’t know how to feel about that.

Also on that list of things to ponder, Yesenia was right in her own morbid way. I was mortal and my time on Earth was limited. I’d grow old and die and Ghost and The Halloween Boys would live on. Suddenly, my dress matched my mood: dismal.

“Oh, they’re arriving. This is so exciting. I love when the souls stop by to chat.”

My breath froze. “Wait, that really happens?”

“Duh! It’s why we all dress like this, so we don’t confuse or upset them. They think it’s Halloween in eighteen twenty-something. Just be yourself. They’re all super nice. Except Patricia, steer clear of her.”

My bubbly friend bounced through the shop door and opened it wide, propping it open.

“Which one is Pat—”

“Mabel! Welcome, dear. Come on in and look around. In need of some new ribbon today?”

My bones chilled as a cold rushed in that wasn’t from the weather or any earthly element. It was a cold that pricked your skin, one that made you feel like someone was watching you. Two women walked in, dressed just like we were. I’d expected them to look like apparitions, like the willow spirit, or like ghosts in movies. But they looked . . . real. Normal, even. Just like anyone else. I could have passed them by on the street and had no idea they were the undead. They didn’t feel like everyone else, though. A chill tightened my chest. I stood awkwardly behind the counter after gathering and hiding my makeup bag. I wasn’t sure if the sight of it would confuse them.

“Marcelene, good to see you. The shop looks . . . different. You’ve really decorated for Samhain this year, haven’t you?”

“I think we’re calling it Halloween now,” Mabel’s friend in a light-pink dress and frilly gloves whispered. “I don’t believe we’ve met your friend. Oh, dear, are you coming from a funeral? That black dress . . .”

“Oh,” I startled. “No, it’s just the nicest dress I had for tonight.”

Mabel looped arms with her friend. “Alice, don’t be rude.” She spoke lower. “She’s probably a farm girl and a funeral gown is her best. Perhaps we could go through our old dresses and see if she’d be interested . . .”

Their conversation trailed off as they pursued the store, picking up, actually picking up, items and inspecting them. Something about them surprised me and drew me in, more than any of the other creatures I’d met. These weren’t demons or vampires or wolves. These we normal women just . . . shopping. And yet there was something else . . . something so familiar about them. I wanted to touch them. A little voice inside my head called out . . .

My eyes drifted closed.

I’m at Hallows Fest. Every being is dressed in their finest. The shrill hum of a mic check and a stray drum beat sound. I see Ghost leaning on the stage, talking to Onyx and Wolfgang. My heart warms at the sight of them. My guys. They were my guys now, and I felt just as protective over them as they did over me. Groups of others filtered into The Brew Pump, gazing up at the old gas station’s roof. Vincent and Ezmerelda walk right in front of me but don’t notice or acknowledge me. “Something isn’t right,” Ezmerelda says urgently, her sage-colored dress making her look even more stunning than usual. I’d never heard her voice sound serious before now. “I fucking feel it and I’m never wrong, Vince.”

The coven leader’s long white hair was pulled back into a braid falling down his back. He brushed a piece of lint from his blue velvet jacket. “What more can I do? I’ve warned them. Ghost’s arrogance will be his downfall. I’ve said it for a century now.”

“Nothing can happen to her. I won’t allow it.”

“Neither will I, Red Vampiress.” He pulled a golden pocket watch out of his pocket and checked the time. “But don’t you find it peculiar?”