by L. A. Boruff
Things at Briarwood Castle had been different since Maeve and Corbin departed for their studies at Oxford last year, which Arthur informed me is some kind of fancy learning institution that wouldn’t accept me. They had all these exams and lectures and tests and could only make it home for a few weekends, and even then they brought giant stacks of books to read.
We were supposed to have had the whole summer together at Briarwood, but Maeve got offered an internship with her astronomy professor and she couldn’t turn it down. She left at the end of July and worked right up until the Michaelmas term started, a week ago. We hadn’t seen her in over two months and the separation was driving us all wild.
Flynn, Arthur, Rowan and I were keeping busy running the new castle art gallery and tearoom and testing me on everything I needed to know to enter training at the College of Policing next year. But we all struggled with the distance and the disappointment of a summer without Maeve. We just struggled in our own ways.
Arthur cut the orchard trees into ribbons with his sword. Rowan baked an endless procession of pies and scones and cakes that he placed in front of us at all hours of the day like some kind of sadistic food torture that was starting to strain the buttons on my trousers, Flynn painted art that was increasingly too dark and weird to appeal to the tourists who got their walking frames stuck in the narrow tower steps and complained loudly that the castle didn’t have a video game arcade.
And me? The longer I went without seeing Maeve and Corbin, the easier it was for doubt to creep in. Maybe we couldn’t make this unusual relationship work? Maybe Maeve would meet someone else at Oxford and call the whole thing off? Maybe I’d get kicked out of Briarwood and have to go live with the fae in the forest?
But as soon as the six of us were together again, it was like nothing had changed. The sizzling magical connection that bound us together flared to life and everything became gloriously, beautifully simple. I loved Maeve. (She’d had to explain to me that the strange lightness in my chest whenever she was near and the overwhelming knowledge that I’d happily die for her was love, because I had no experience of it.) Maeve loved me, and she loved four other guys as well, and they were okay and no longer wanted to kill me, so I could tolerate their presence. Life was good.
Plus, all the long-distance pining was worth it to see Maeve so happy and excited about her astrophysics studies. That, and the make-up sex was hot as a fairy bonfire.
And we’d be getting some of that make-up sex soon. Maeve and Corbin had a break in their studies coming up. That’s what we were doing in the games’ room – discussing plans with them over this video call, if Flynn ever got it connected.
“Brilliant. I’m a genius.” Flynn swapped two cords around, then thumped the top of his ancient laptop. The screen juddered to life. A moment later, Maeve and Corbin’s faces appeared, smushed together in a small window in Maeve’s tiny student room.
“Hello Princess, Mussolini,” I said.
“For the last time, I never agreed to that nickname,” Corbin said, but he was grinning.
“I think it suits him,” Maeve ruffled Corbin’s hair. A sharp pang of envy shot through my body, and I could tell from the way Rowan stiffened beside me that he felt it, too. We all wanted Maeve’s hands in our hair, her lips on ours, her tongue on our cocks, her sweet nipples between our teeth...
“Flynn, can you adjust the camera?” Maeve asked. “All we can see is a straight shot up Arthur’s nostrils.”
“How’s this?” Flynn pulled out the waistband of his trousers and directed the camera into the murky depths.
“No real improvement,” Maeve grinned. Flynn put the camera down and stuck his tongue out at her. We all burst out laughing.
By Oberon, it was good to hear Maeve’s laughter inside the castle again, even if it was over a video feed.
“I miss you guys,” Rowan whispered, his fingers tightening around his knee. He glanced up at the games’ room windows, but his lips didn’t move. He was getting better at not relying on counting when he was anxious.
“We miss you too,” Corbin said, the warmth in his voice stoking the weird fluttering in my chest.
“We’ve got news!” Maeve cried. “It’s official. We’re coming home for Halloween.”
“That’s soon!” Flynn beamed. “Only a week away.”
“What’s Halloween?” I asked. So many words and human habits were still foreign to me.
“It’s a silly American holiday,” Arthur growled. “Kids dress up in costumes and threaten people with pranks if they don’t give them sweets.”
My ears pricked up at the mention of sweets. “Sounds like every fae celebration I’ve ever attended, except this time I could eat the food.”
“Halloween actually has its roots in pagan traditions,” Corbin explained. “At the ancient Celtic ceremony of Samhain, it was believed the barrier between this world and the realm of the spirits and the fae was at its thinnest. People would light bonfires and wear costumes to scare off any spirits. The Christians incorporated some of the Samhain traditions into their All Hallows Eve holiday, and then Irish immigrants to America started the Halloween craze—”
Flynn yawned. “Fascinating. Why don’t you save the boring lectures for when you’re actually home? That way we can ignore you in person.”
“You know, this is the first time I won’t celebrate Halloween,” Maeve said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “I mean, I don’t count last year, because we were so busy dealing with the fae and settling into Oxford I completely forgot about it. But I’m guessing it’s not really done in England.”
“A few people trick or treat,” Flynn observed. “But you’re right, it’s nothing like the craic you see on American TV shows.”
“I thought so,” Maeve’s voice was wistful. “That’s sad. It was always so much fun. My parents had a big protest and church service about it every year. They thought it was celebrating satanism. But they still let us go to the school dance as long as we didn’t dress up as anything supernatural. Usually, Kelly was a Disney princess and I’d be some famous scientist. One time I went as a galaxy and I pinned glittery stars all over a black catsuit…”
My mind trailed away, imagining a black catsuit clinging to Maeve’s gorgeous curves. Rowan asked about their studies, and the conversation moved on, with Maeve and Corbin gushing about their classes and clubs and the food at their college ‘Formal Hall’ (whatever that was). Maeve’s face lit up as she spoke about the dark matter research paper her professor was writing based on their work over the summer, and how he might want her to come with him to Chile for some field research. I didn’t know what dark matter was, but it sounded impressive.
I loved seeing Maeve so happy, even if it did mean she spent so much time away from me. But as the conversation shifted to logistics about their trip home, her eyes got that faraway look. She was thinking about her parents again. Halloween was just going to be another reminder of what she’d lost.
We could fix that.
An idea started to form in my head, and it was all I could do not to slam the laptop shut so I could tell the others. I bit back my enthusiasm while we all said goodbye and Flynn shut down the computer. Arthur poured drinks at the makeshift bar in the corner (really a bookcase, which Corbin said was blasphemous, but Corbin wasn’t here. Personally, I preferred booze over books, unless they were Sherlock Holmes stories).
“I wish Maeve didn’t sound so sad about being in England for Halloween,” Rowan said, as he sipped his tea. Rowan didn’t drink alcohol, which Arthur liked to tease him about but I didn’t. More alcohol for me.
“It’s a stupid holiday,” Arthur said. “Invented by stupid Americans who don’t know or care about any of the traditions.”
“You may be right,” I mused. “But Maeve loved it, and she is definitely not a stupid American. I think we should make sure she doesn’t miss out this year.”
“How do you propose we do that? Apart from the kids’ costume parade at the witchcraft museum, there
aren’t any Halloween celebrations around Crookshollow. And I’m not going back to Arizona again. Once was enough. That place is hot.” Arthur tugged on his long sleeve Blood Lust hoodie. He wore it most days to cover the scar on his forearm, even though the weather was boiling hot and none of us actually cared.
“What if we threw her a Halloween celebration at Briarwood? It’d be a way of saying how much we missed her. And Corbin, too,” I added for Rowan’s benefit.
“That’s a great idea!” Flynn said. “We could get decorations, and Rowan could bake some Halloween treats.”
“I do have a new cookbook called A Harem of Recipes I’d like to try out,” Rowan beamed.
“Brilliant.” I grinned. “It’s settled. We’ll have a Halloween revel for Maeve. I’ll be in charge of planning.”
“Why you?” Arthur demanded. “You don’t even know what Halloween is.”
“No, but I do know how to throw one killer fairy revel. You can say a lot about the fae, but they do know how to party. Flynn, could you bring up a search engine on that piece of shite computer of yours? I need to know exactly what this Halloween malarky entails.”
TWO: MAEVE
“—I went to the senior Halloween dance as Albert Einstein, which of course Kelly thought was hilarious. No one else got it, though. They thought I was supposed to be impersonating Mr Donovan, the maths teacher. I got in so much trouble.”
Corbin laughed good-naturedly, although I noticed his eyes flicked to the open page of his book, which he hadn’t been able to read for the entire bus trip. I didn’t mean to talk his ear off about my Halloween memories – I just couldn’t stop thinking about ghosts and pumpkins. Last year I’d been so busy and distracted I hadn’t even noticed the date passing by. But this time I felt the loss of the tradition like a final nail in the coffin of my former life. I was a bona fide witch now – I should celebrate Halloween! Well, I guess I’d been a witch all along, but now I knew I had powers and I could control them. I could actually wear a witch costume unironically, but there was nowhere to wear it to.
The bus pulled into the Crookshollow station, and I was the first passenger on my feet. My heart fluttered at the thought of seeing my guys again. It was weird, this distance between us. Some days I’d be so immersed in all the fascinating secrets of the universe I’d forget to think of them, and then I’d get back to my dorm and there’d be a hundred text messages from Flynn about how much he missed me and my heart ached so bad I worried about my health.
The door whooshed open and I bounded down the steps. Warm arms swept me up into a crushing hug before my feet even hit the asphalt. “Oof, Flynn, careful!” I cried as he swung me around and nearly knocked over an old lady. She glared at him and scurried away.
“Who’s being careful?” Flynn grinned, planting a wet kiss on my lips. You’re home! I’m going to tie you to the bed so you never leave again.”
“Is that a promise?” I raised an eyebrow. He raised a bushy red one in return. We both cracked up laughing. By Athena, I missed him.
I peered around Flynn. To my surprise, he was joined not only by Arthur – the only member of my coven with a license and a car – but also by Blake and Rowan. I smiled at my shy Rowan, who grinned back from behind a curtain of black dreadlocks. He’d had them redone recently, and his hairdresser had threaded colorful glass beads into the bottoms. They glinted in the sunlight in a pale imitation of his radiant eyes.
Blake wore his favorite leather jacket despite the warm day. With his hands in his pockets, his cocky stance and his angelic features, he looked every bit like the fae princes he’d grown up with. Only the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth alluded to his pleasure at seeing me again.
As his emerald eyes flicked over my body, a warm flame sparked inside me. The pleasure was definitely mutual.
“I couldn’t keep these idiots at home,” Arthur grumbled.
“Good.” I squeezed Flynn so tight his back cracked, then moved on to Rowan, letting his homely, herbs-and-flour scent wash over me.
“Not good. Now I’ve got to make two trips up to the castle.”
“Nonsense.” Flynn picked up my bag and marched off toward the parking lot. (or car park, in the British vernacular). “It’s only five minutes up the road. If we squeeze, we’ll all fit.”
I glanced at Arthur’s vintage Jaguar. It looked even tinier and more beaten-up than the last time I’d seen it. “We’re not going to fit.”
“We’ll give it a go. But you’re paying the ticket if we get caught.” Arthur checked over his shoulder that no one was watching. He popped the trunk and gestured for Flynn to get inside. “In you go.”
“Are you startin’? There’s probably a whole family of spiders living in there.” Flynn shuddered.
“You were the one who wanted to come to the station. You’re also the smallest out of all of us. Either you get in there, or Maeve does.”
“Maeve does not.” I crossed my arms.
Flynn screwed up his face, but he folded up his body into the narrow trunk and allowed Arthur to shut the hood. “You can still breathe in there?”
“I think so,” came a muffled reply. “Drive like my Ma would, right?”
“Wasn’t your mother’s drug of choice speed?” Arthur thumped the trunk. A string of expletives rolled out of the trunk as the rest of us piled in the car and we drove out of the parking lot (car park), through the quaint, sunny village, and into the rolling countryside beyond.
We passed tall hedgerows and puffy hydrangea flowers in dusky pinks and blue, the petals just starting to droop and cascade across the road like snowdrifts. Arthur turned in at the familiar iron gate. As we wound up the driveway, I got my first look at Briarwood Castle in two months. Even now, after all the time I’d spent inside those walls, the high stone walls and imposing gatehouse still stole my breath.
There were changes, too. Some of the fire-damaged stone around the walls had been repaired. Construction had started on the new garage and workshop wing. The old Victorian extension burned down when the fae had stirred up the villagers against our coven, and they’d come to the castle set on a good ol’ fashioned witch burning. We all managed to survive (eventually) but the castle had been badly damaged inside and out.
Secretly, I think Flynn was happy about losing the Victorian stables in the blaze. It meant he could design his dream workshop/studio space from scratch. As I watched, workers hauled up framing to form the new, ultra-modern space, with lofty ceilings and high windows to let in light. Flynn had help from his new mentor, the artist (and fox-shifter) Ryan Raynard, in creating the design, and it was beautiful and functional without detracting from the castle’s uniqueness.
Arthur pulled up in front of the inner gatehouse, and we poured out of the car. Flynn leaped out of the trunk like a jack-in-the-box. “We’ve got so much to show you!” He grabbed my arm and led me around the construction site. When I couldn’t contain my excitement any longer, I had to drag him under the portcullis and into the castle’s inner courtyard.
Our first stop was the new castle shop Flynn and Rowan had opened. The space was dominated by two of Flynn’s massive scrap-metal statues – a creepy spider, and a leering witch. After his first witch statue went viral last year, he hadn’t been able to make them fast enough. More of Flynn’s artwork lined the walls, and shelves at the back were stacked with Rowan’s culinary delights – packets of fudge, homemade botanical soaps, jars of jam, chutney, and something called piccalilli I’d never tried before but it sounded so delightfully British I knew it would be delicious.
“What’s that for?” I pointed to an empty shelf and a large wine barrel in the corner, decorated with tiny metal sculptures of bees.
“That’s going to be filled with our new Briarwood mead,” Arthur said, a hint of pride in his voice. “We’re just waiting for the Council to grant us the liquor license. I’ve got some inside for you to try.”
“It’s brilliant, you guys.” Corbin beamed as he took in every detail. This was
all Corbin had ever wanted – for the broken boys he’d collected over the years to find their home at Briarwood. Oddly enough, it was Corbin who needed to leave the castle to find himself, and he had – first in the underworld, and then as a student of medieval history at the University of Oxford.
I hugged them all, pride bursting out of me at what they’d achieved. Blake tugged my hand, pulling me into the main house. I grabbed for the door to the Great Hall, anxious to see if the repairs were moving along in there as well.
“Don’t look in there.” Flynn flattened himself against the door. “It’s a right mess. A bombsite. Beyond the structural bracing, we haven’t done anything.”
“Flynn’s right. Ignore the Great Hall. Come see what we’ve done upstairs.” Blake practically dragged me up the stairs.
“But the kitchen—” I protested. Blake ignored me. The boys crowded up after me, blocking my escape.
On the landing, I peeked into their bedrooms, happy to see them as chaotic as ever. Blake hurried me past, pausing only at the bottom of the tower staircase leading up to my bedroom.
I sucked in a breath. On the first stair was a tiny jack o'lantern, carved with triangle-shaped eyes and a toothy grin. A tealight candle flickered inside, casting an eerie glow on the bare stone walls.
“What’s this?” I whispered, bending down to inspect the pumpkin.
“Halloween,” Blake grinned. Behind him, the other guys were beaming, too. Flynn jumped from foot to foot, unable to contain his excitement about something. But what?
“What have you done?” I demanded. All I got in reply were more wicked grins.
I stepped over the jack o'lantern and moved up the stairs. Another pumpkin greeted me, this one carved with elaborate shamrocks for eyes. A tiny pumpkin hand enclosed a miniature bottle of Irish whiskey.
“That one’s Flynn’s,” Blake said.
“Really? I couldn’t tell.” I grinned.
Two more jack o'lanterns flanked the door to my bedroom. I paused, not sure if I wanted to open the door. What would I find on the other side?