Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (51)
“Oh, I overheard him talking about a woman once. Someone named Cat. Do you know anyone by that name?”
Yesenia straightened, the usual mirth vacant from her gorgeous features. She sucked in a breath before standing. “No, sorry. And I have to get going, but um . . . stop by the willow tree later for a drink.”
“Is that a bar?” I asked, but Yesenia was already halfway to the door. “Well, thanks for everything—”
“Fresh linens are in the office closet. You’ll find anything you need in there if you just ask for it—I mean, whatever you want should be in there,” she fumbled her words. Why was she all of a sudden acting so unlike herself? Before I could respond, the door clicked closed, followed by the mechanical laughter and the jingle of bells. I walked to the window overlooking the decked-out Halloween town, but I didn’t see which way she went. It was as if she’d evaporated. I leaned against the cool windowpane for a moment and watched children with sheets over their heads clutching orange pumpkin buckets. They giggled and weaved through the streets as shop owners came out to toss handfuls of candy into their loot piles. A soft smile played at my lips. I loved that they trick-or-treated all month here. I loved Halloween. The crisp air, the bright foliage, everything changing and growing a shade darker . . . I wondered like a child as I inspected my costume what Hallows had in store for me tonight. Would it be tricks or treats?
My mind spun into a vivid daydream.
I’m kicking piles of leaves in a forest I don’t recognize. Green fire burns in the distance as the shadow of a humungous wolf blurs past me. I reach out and touch coarse fur as it crosses my path. I pick up into a jog, chasing after it, when blue fogs laps at my knees. It’s odd and eerie, but I’m not afraid. I stop and reach down, swirling the now purple fog into my palm where it wraps and spins softly around my wrist. Eventually it clears and leaves behind a circle of shimmering periwinkle smoke dancing around my ring finger. Sighing, I thumb at it softly. “I love you too,” I whisper.
Dr. Omar called my daydreams a form of dissociative disorder. She said they elicit a disconnect between thought patterns and even identity. My dissociative disorder was beginning to interfere with my functioning as the flashes became more and more intense and real feeling. I wasn’t even sure how I arrived at Hallows Fest after the jarring and uncontrollable daydream of the strange forest and blue fog. It was an effort to shake free of the heaviness that pressed in on my shoulders as I walked through the trees to the Halloween festival. The caw of a bird yanked my attention upwards, and as I suspected, bouncing on branches above me sat my raven friend. Knowing he, or she, was with me brought about a strange measure of comfort. When I looked down to continue my walk, I startled at the slash of red only two feet in front of me. “I think you’ve made a familiar,” she said, grinning that pointed smile.
I placed a hand over my heart. “Ezmerelda, hi. I didn’t even hear you walk up.” I glanced around at the dry leaves that blanketed the ground and found it strange that once again, I didn’t hear her. I heard even the soft patter of new leaves floating down to join the ground. Maybe it was because I was so distracted. That was what I told myself, lied to myself. I was doing that a lot lately . . . “What’s a familiar?”
She looped her arm in mine like she did the first night we met, and my body instantly calmed. My fear and nerves settled into excitement, curiosity, and a rosy sort of bliss. Strange how she had that effect on me each time we walked together. “A familiar is a tiny, cute little demon who assumes the form of an animal. They show up around beings who are just coming into their powers. Usually they prefer witches, but anyone powerful will do. They’re very protective of the being they choose . . . or are gifted to.”
“You know a lot about this stuff. Where’d you learn all this?”
Ezmerelda kicked a stone with her pointed red boot. “Old stories from my family . . . By the way, I heard you ran into Vincent. He wanted me to tell you he’s sorry if he frightened you or . . . angered your friend.”
“Oh, you mean the skeleton guy? I wouldn’t say he’s my friend, more like he stalked me for an evening.”
She giggled and twirled, fanning out her long crimson hair. “If Ghost hasn’t killed you, you’re his friend.”
I rolled my eyes as I followed her. “That’s comforting.”
As we reached the clearing and the festival sounds and energy blazed to life before us, Ezmerelda winked. “Vincent says you’re welcome to come find us anytime. We don’t bite unless you beg us to.” As she smoothed out her long, flowy red dress, she added, “Oh, and your familiar isn’t the only one following you tonight, it seems.” With her fangs on full display, Ezmerelda blew me a kiss. “See you soon. Killer outfit, by the way. Your tits look yummy.”
Blush rushed to my cheeks as bright as her hair as she skipped away through the crowd. I turned to look around, expecting the skeleton man, Ghost, he was called. But I saw no one. Maybe she was just messing with me. She’s just playing a game. This isn’t real.
The heaviness returned as I slowly meandered through the crowd. I came for a distraction from earlier, only to find my mind wanted to burrow into the fight I’d had with Ames and replay it over and over again. What did he mean he was the villain? How could someone as good as he was think such a thing? Yesenia’s reaction to something I’d said regarding Ames was just as jarring. Or maybe my lack of social skills had me reading wrong into everything others said or did. It was very possible I was the weird one in each of these encounters.