by Nova Nelson
“Coming,” she called as she approached the door. She swung it open to reveal Ezra Ares looking young as ever.
“Trick or treat,” he said smoothly.
She giggled and smacked him on the arm. “I never should have taught you that phrase. You make it sound so dirty.”
“Is it not?”
She giggled again. “Come in. I was just finishing up with Nora.”
The wandmaker stepped in and nodded politely at me. I tried not to think too hard about the circumstances under which he’d last graced Ruby’s parlor, back when the love spell was still in full effect.
A crease appeared on Ruby’s brow. “What was I saying? Oh right. Portals. If you’re really interested in portals, the person to ask who will really talk your ear off is, conveniently enough, Serenity Springsong herself. And I do believe she’ll be easy to find at the Hallow’s Faire, so you might want to hurry and dress yourself appropriately for the enchanting evening of terror, and then get your hide down there. Don’t want to miss the Blind Draw.” She grabbed a handbag off the table by the door, called Clifford to her, and added, “I’d wait for you, but… you take too long. See you there!”
Ezra offered her an arm, and she took it gladly, then the pair plus Clifford trotted out and shut the door behind them.
“What the—“ Grim spat, jumping up. “She didn’t even give me any sausage!”
I glanced at him and had to keep myself from laughing all over again at the stupid orange bow.
“Get over here,” I said. When he glared at me skeptically, I marched over to him and tugged the bow out of his hair. “Happy Halloween.”
“Thanks.”
“That was for me, not you. I’d be mortified to be seen with you like that in public.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Must be my lucky day,” called Ted only a second after Grim and I stepped off Ruby’s front porch.
He was just passing by, and I decided to assume it was legitimately good timing and not that he’d been hanging around, waiting for me to leave the house so he could “bump into” me.
“Why’s that?” I asked. “You know, besides the fact that there are a bunch of ghosts floating around and you don’t have to do anything about it.” I took a quick step back just in time to avoid a witch speeding by on her broomstick, pursued closely by one of said ghosts.
“Because I get to accompany you to the Hallow’s Faire! It’s always fun to experience it through fresh eyes, and that’s so rare in this town.”
“I imagine most people experience it through bugging eyes.”
“Heh! Good one.”
Eek.
The gray sky was starting to dim, and it had clearly emboldened some of the spirits that had crossed over for the day. I could already hear the echoes of shrieks wafting toward us from the Eastwind Emporium, where the faire took place.
“The smell of fear is so pungent,” Grim remarked, “if I could roll in it, I would.”
After dodging a few more terrified Eastwinders, we emerged from the side street into the large, circular space near the center of town. When I pulled up short to take in the unbelievable sights, Ted stopped next to me, inhaling with a deep rattle before letting it out in an equally chalky but content whoosh.
“Nothing like the smell of Halloween,” he said.
“Are you talking about the smell of fear or the smell of bonfires?”
“All of it,” Ted said, nodding serenely.
Were we looking at the same thing? Because what I was seeing was a mash-up of nightmares unfolding.
Ghosts swarmed the tops of the crowd like flies on a landfill. Many of the living doing their best to pretend it wasn’t happening, but I could see the whites of their eyes as they shot nervous glances overhead while trying to eat a turkey leg or roasted corn on the cob.
Small groups huddled together for safety, but otherwise pushed on as if they were determined to be there. The whole affair seemed like the demented cousin of the Lunasa Festival, with booths of foods and goods spread out… except some of those booths had already been knocked over by the on-edge faire goers.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Why are the ghosts so set on scaring everyone? The spirits I work with usually just want to drop off their emotional baggage and move on.”
“It’s simple,” said Ted. “When the veil is pulled back, it’s just the mean ones who care to dodge through and terrorize the living. The nice ones would rather just enjoy the many perks of the afterlife.”
A sales table just in front of the large entry arch caught my eye with its glittering crystals. Behind it stood Ezra Ares and Ruby. If I wasn’t mistaken, she’d taken on the role of Hallow’s Faire greeter, smiling warmly and welcoming each person as they arrived. Those saying hello seemed to take small comfort in her presence, perhaps (wrongly) assuming that if things got really out of control she would step in and handle it.
Ezra, meanwhile, was probably paying this year’s mortgage with all the warding and protection items he was selling. He couldn’t seem to hand them out or take the coins fast enough.
“Why in the hellhound does anyone attend this?” I asked.
Ted sounded shocked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, it seems like it would be better to just batten down the hatches at home. Maybe take a sleeping potion early and wake up when all the spirits are gone.”
“Ah. Yes. There might have been a time when that was the go-to in Eastwind, but not anymore. I guess everyone realized that they couldn’t stop Halloween from coming each year.”
“And what does that have to do with it?”
“Well,” he said, “if you know something bad is coming, and you’re going to have to face it no matter what you do, wouldn’t you rather confront it surrounded by the people you know and trust? Why go through it alone when they can be there for you and you can be there for them?”
It made a strange kind of sense. And when I saw Efarine Moulton, a pompous witch who thought she was too good for every other kind of creature, run shrieking from a ghoulish spirit that had jumped out of her popcorn box and grab straight onto the arm of Stu Manchester for security, I admitted that Ted was truly onto something.
Maybe Halloween was just what this town needed each year to get its head out of its backside.
“Welcome!” sang Ruby as Ted and I reached the entrance. “Happy Halloween!”
“Don’t you mean ‘horrifying Halloween’?” I asked. “No one looks very happy. Well, Ezra does, but I’m not sure that’s entirely wholesome. He seems to be exploiting this.”
“Of course he is, dear,” Ruby said, sounding unconcerned. “He’s a businessman. Besides, it’s not as if his wares don’t work. I assume you’re wearing your staurolite pendant, yes?”
I tapped it beneath my coat. Staurolite was fairly common, not especially nice to look at, but managed to keep spirits from wearing me like an expensive suit. And so far, the amulet had done the trick. I’d bought it from Ezra the same day I’d custom ordered my wand. Only one of those purchases had actually proved useful since. “Of course,” I said to Ruby. “Point taken.”
I passed on the rest of Ezra’s goods without any shred of guilt and cautiously stepped into the Hallow’s Faire crowd.
While most everyone seemed preoccupied with their own mini nightmares, I hadn’t forgotten one important fact: I was publicly known as the crucial Fifth Wind piece of Eastwind’s first complete circle in centuries. And as such, not everyone would shed a tear if someone happened to take me out. It only required something deadly happening to one of the five of us for the circle to be broken and essentially useless. But so long as all of us were with each other, almost no one in Eastwind would try anything because, duh, we were more powerful.
Well, theoretically. If we knew what in the seven spirits we were doing, we would be. But we didn’t. Of course, no one needed to know that.
Eva and Donovan were the first I spotted as they cut through the throngs toward me.
“Hap
py Halloween,” Donovan said as sarcastically as he could muster while the spirit of a cackling banshee dive bombed him with splashes of frigid air.
“Back atcha, Donny,” I said.
He scowled.
Eva said, “We were wondering where you were.”
“Just running a bit late.”
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. Fine. You?”
She nodded cheerily. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” she said. “Everyone made it out to be this big deal, but it’s not like the ghosts can do anything.”
“The poltergeist can,” Donovan corrected.
She shrugged a concession. “Fine. They can, but otherwise, the most dangerous thing out here is just the chaotic crowd. And I’m used to that. This is just a typical Saturday night on Bourbon Street. It ain’t got nothing on Mardi Gras. They don’t even have guns here!”
“Good point,” I said. It was easy to forget Eva was tough as nails. Her kind and open demeanor often lulled me into thinking she was somehow soft. But she’d proved time and time again that it was actually her underlying strength and courage that allowed her to be as caring as she was.
“You see Tanner or Landon?” Donovan asked, scanning the crowd anxiously.
“Not yet, but they know the plan is to meet here, so—”
I felt a hand slide around my waist and both assumed and hoped it was Tanner’s.
“Lovely weather,” he remarked, having to shout to be heard. A passing gaggle of teenage witches screamed as they hurriedly exited the festival arch, pursued by a werebear ghost.
Landon Hawker stood just behind him, looking more nervous than usual. The North Wind’s rosy cheeks shone a stop-sign red. And yet, despite his twitchiness, I felt instantly better once the five of us were together. “Anything terrible happen yet?” he asked.
Donovan, at least, seemed to appreciate Landon’s misery in that it kept his own company. “You mean outside of everything?”
“Where’s Grace?” I asked, speaking only loud enough to be heard by those in our group.
“Back home,” he said. “Obviously, she can’t be seen out here, so I had Ruby ward the house so it would be quiet tonight. No spirits allowed.”
“Ruby did that for you?” I asked. “Good golem, what do you owe her now?”
He nodded. “I get what you mean, but she was just in a good mood. Everyone in town knows if you need something from her, Halloween is the time to ask.”
He was wrong. Not everyone in town knew that because I hadn’t known it until he’d said it. Shoot. I’d have to remember that for next year. Although I somehow doubted she would make any such exceptions for me.
“Well?” Eva asked. “Where to?”
I knew where I needed to go, and that was wherever Serenity Springsong was. But I needed to manage that without the rest of my group. I wasn’t ready to explain everything I’d learned from the Culpeppers to Tanner, and it would take way too much explaining to catch Landon, Eva, or Donovan up to speed. Well, maybe not Donovan, since he was with us at his parents’ house when a lot of it was covered. But if I was sure about one thing, it was that telling Donovan about Tanner’s parents abandoned attempt to murder me when I was a child, which subsequently led to their murder, was the sort of information that could create yet another last-to-know situation for my boyfriend. And then there was the obvious salt to the wound if Donovan were the first person in our circle I told.
I wasn’t sure yet how I’d manage to inconspicuously ditch everyone and get a moment with the High Priestess, but I’d have to be smart about it. After all, she was probably toward the top of the list of people who weren’t happy about our circle, and spending alone time with her was…
Well, it was just stupid, to be honest. So I’d make sure to take Grim with me. His presence was sure to make her think twice about trying anything.
“The Blind Draw starts in a few minutes,” said Tanner. “Don’t want to miss that.”
I’d heard this Blind Draw thing mentioned a few times now and wanted to ask him what that was, but I figured I’d see for myself in a minute anyway.
On our way over, our group made the rounds by some of the booths, stopping by the Pixie Mixie pop-up to say hello to Kayleigh and Stella Lytefoot, who had written their available goods on a small chalkboard. Only two items were listed. The first was a potion for reviving those who’d fainted, and the second, more proactively, was a calming draught. Judging by the empty shelves behind them, they were close to selling out. They smiled at us, told us to keep out of trouble, and then we let them continue to rake in the coins.
We passed the Necro Coffee stand, which was only offering chamomile tea—apparently, the caffeine jitters were unnecessary on top of the other nervous-system agitations everyone was managing.
I bought myself a roast sausage on a stick from Crawford the butcher’s stand. The warm greasiness immediately coated my mouth, and the first swallow was like heaven. Figuratively speaking. I couldn’t confirm its similarity to the realm Gabby Bloom came from. Either way, there was something universally soothing about unhealthy faire food.
And, knowing I’d need his compliance before long, I bought a sausage for Grim—a chicken one to be on the healthy side. He didn’t complain. But that might have been because he didn’t taste it as he practically inhaled the thing.
When we approached the area sectioned off for the Blind Draw, I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
The contest hadn’t begun yet, but by the looks of it, it was about to. Those gathered nearby, making the innermost ring around the three contestants in the middle, looked almost happy.
Almost but not quite.
Just not entirely terrified.
Even the nearest ghosts hovering around seemed to forget that they were there solely to pester the living.
At the center of the small circle, along with the contestants, was none other than Liberty Freeman, looking as relaxed as ever in front of the crowd. His charisma hadn’t taken a hit with the chaos, and perhaps some of his magic was rubbing off on the onlookers, creating a contagious bubble of confidence. I wouldn’t put it past him to have that ability. The guy was likely the most powerful being in town (perhaps outside of his live-in girlfriend Emagine), though you wouldn’t know it to talk to the man.
Liberty, who I naturally assumed would host this thing rather than participate, bantered playfully with one of the soon-to-be competitors. Among them were two young Eastwinders I recognized from town but didn’t know by name—a male werewolf who appeared to be in his early twenties and a female elf who looked to be mid-thirties but was probably mid-three-hundreds.
The third competitor I did know. It was Ansel Fontaine, Jane Saxon’s werebear husband. I wasn’t sure where I stood with him at the moment. On the one hand, there was his not-so-hidden bias against witches. But on the other, I, along with four other witches, had helped save his hide from doppelgängers. I decided to keep it simple and cheer for him in whatever this Blind Draw thing was.
Each of the three stood next to a blank easel, but no explanation was provided as to why. Was this just a simple art competition?
Emagine stepped out from the crowd and whispered something in Liberty’s ear, and his eyes popped open for a second before he pulled her into his arms and kissed her firmly. She giggled when the kiss broke, and he snuck a little pat on her rear as she returned to the crowd.
I reached behind me, found Tanner’s hands, and pulled them around my waist so I could pilfer some of his warmth against my back.
Liberty cleared his throat dramatically before speaking, and his voice projected far and wide, drawing a thick, anticipatory silence from the recently moaning and squealing faire goers within earshot.
“At this time, I ask that our first wave of competitors secure their blindfolds,” he said.
I hadn’t noticed the blindfolds each of them held until that point. The competitors did as they were told, and I thought it was a foolish thing to do in this environm
ent, but okay. Personally, I wasn’t keen on forfeiting any of my senses on Halloween, and I had at least one more than most people.
“Who’s ready for the first round of the Blind Draw?” Liberty prompted.
Judging by the excited response from the crowd, everyone was ready for it.
“Then I ask for any willing spiritual guests to float this way, and I’ll select the first three.”
To my amazement, the spirits complied. Or at least some of them. While not all of them floated down to hover in front of Liberty, at least a half dozen did, one of which I’d seen only minutes before pouring ketchup on Hyacinth Bouquet’s expensive looking hat.
(It was a highlight.)
Liberty picked three from the bunch and assigned them to stand at arm’s length in front of each contestant.
Apparently, the genie was so likable that even the most insufferable entities were eager to please him.
“Okay, competitors,” he said, “When I say go, you’ll have two minutes to feel your way to a complete portrait. And spirits, need I remind you that once the time starts, you must remain completely still. No changing position to throw off the artist. Ready… set… draw!”
Immediately, the crowd erupted in cheers, but I was too engrossed in the activity to utter even a single peep of encouragement for Ansel once the time began. I watched as the giant werebear reached out in front of himself, groping around the air as his hand passed through the outer edge of the ghost in front of him.
“Sweet baby jackalope,” I breathed when I realized what was happening. Ansel was trying to draw the outline of the ghost on the blank sheet of parchment by sensing the temperature of the air in front of him to determine where the spirit ended and began.
The developing figures on the easels were laughably bad. I suspected part of that was due to how poor everyone’s precise sense of touch is with regard to the temperature shifts and part was due to the usual difficulty of drawing when you can’t see.
But also, I suspected that the hilariously terrible drawings were the whole point.
It was impossible not to laugh while watching this spectacle, and everyone’s cheers quickly turned into fits of hysterical laughter as the young werewolf drew the ghost’s head right over where he’d already drawn the rear and the elf forgot she’d already drawn the right arm and gave the figure a second then a third on the same side.