Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (52)
Someone dressed as a furry sheep-like creature with twisted horns walked by on stilts. I jumped out of the way and looked up, marveling at its height and the dedication it took to craft such a realistic and long costume. The goat-like-snout looked down at me and winked it’s rectangular yellow and black pupil at me as it continued its long strides. It brought a grin to my lips as I continued along the path. A group of white, red, and black jesters danced and bounced flamboyantly over a game of cards as a few folks in wolf costumes watched, taking bets.
Twenty pale-skinned and tall vampires strode past in a single file line, seemingly in a somber hurry. I didn’t see Vincent among them. Despite myself, I kept glancing over my shoulder for the skeleton man, whom I hadn’t spotted yet. Maybe he was sitting tonight out. Maybe I’d never see him again. For some reason, the loss of Ames and the potential loss of my skeletal stalker made my heart drop into my boots. I was truly good at pushing people away. The few people that ever dared try to get close to me . . . I’d shoved so far away so they wouldn’t get caught up in my shit. So that they wouldn’t get hurt. But Ames, and even Onyx and Wolf, had disregarded those walls with reckless abandon. They didn’t seem to care at all that associating with me could put a target on their backs. What if my stepfather decided to go after them first? The thought made me shudder with worry. A flash of blood-stained carpet invaded my vision. I imagined the waitresses he slaughtered at the diner I worked at in Tennessee . . . and then the old couple from the flower shop I worked at in Philadelphia. I’d pushed those horrors so far from my mind because if I dwelled too long, I couldn’t keep moving. Couldn’t breath from the weight of shame and terror. But there was a road of blood behind me, following me in his wake. His next target very well could be my new friends. I shuddered at the thought, feeling guilt burn my throat. The pattern was the same. A letter, killings, and then I’d see him somewhere following me. But so far there had been no killings, so maybe . . . just maybe he’d been thrown off my trail.
The distinct and spicy aroma of clove grazed my senses as I weaved between tree roots, tents, and booths. A giant willow tree swayed in the distance, the source of the lovely smell.
A large, purple open-air tent stood erect under its lanky ropes. I inched closer to find what looked like a circle of intricately masked witches. Some were in long flowy garb and pointy hats. Two were topless, wearing only long sheer skirts that billowed with their every movement. Their skin and breasts glowing in the moonlight. No one gawked as one of the topless women stood to stir the caldron in the middle of their circle. One of them waved me over. I looked over my shoulder and saw no one. Pointing to my chest, I mouthed, Me?
She giggled. “Yes you, clever Fox. Come here.”
I tentatively made my way over and stopped outside the circle, unsure if it would be impolite to cross their sacred threshold. The topless woman wore a huge peacock feather mask and smiled at me warmly. “Brother, sister, or sibling?” she asked, taking me off guard.
“Um . . . ,” I stammered, glancing nervously at the swaying willow vines. Was this some sort of test? A riddle I didn’t know about?
The witch that called me over whispered, “They’re just asking your pronouns, sweetie.”
“Oh!” I replied, relief relaxing my shoulders. “Sister, please. And yours?”
“Sister too,” she remarked, delicately stirring a thick stone cauldron over their fire and picking up a coffee mug. “Or sibling. Both or either. Welcome to Hallows Fest, newbie.” She handed me a steaming mug.
“Is this a magical potion?” I asked, glancing around at the others. The scent of nutmeg and spice warmed my nose along with my chilly palms.
A melody of soft giggles surrounded me as the dark-purple-robed witch next to me put a reassuring hand between my shoulder blades. “You could call it that, or you could call it a pumpkin spice latte.” She winked.
I laughed along with the others and took a sip. “Thank you, this is delicious.” The brew expanded in my chest and warmed my soul.
“Feel free to find us and sit with us whenever you’d like, sister,” an older witch with a black pointy hat and a glittering silver mask crooned. “We haven’t had a new visitor in a very long time.”
“We know lots of tricks too,” another softer-voiced witch said. She lightly shuffled what looked like a deck of tarot cards. It was then I noticed all the iron lanterns surrounding them. They flickered amongst the grass while several hung from the trees. Their setup was lovely, and spooky, and homey all at once. Just like Magia Eclectics.
A beautiful witch approached as I sipped my drink. Her long beaded braids cascaded down her back. The golden hues of her black skin sparkled in the firelight.
“It must be fun being a witch,” I said.
She giggled. “It definitely is. Though, anyone who identifies as a witch is one in some way. You just have to find your thing. Maybe you always find the best deals thrifting, or the weather is always nice when you make plans. Magic is everywhere. Us witches just notice it more. We harness it.”
I smiled over at her, enjoying the breeze and the break from the chaos and bustle of the Hallows crowd.
Her curious voice broke the silence. “Step into the firelight for me? Something about you is bugging the shit out of me.”
“Sure.”
Squinting and looking me up and down, she took a step back. “I’ve never seen this before. I thought it was just the dark night. Can anyone else see?” she asked the circle. Everyone only stared with the same furrowed brows and silence.