All Hallows Eve

by Chelsea Luna

  “Hmm.” James pulled at his backpack strap. “Do you want to skip chemistry and go home?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m fine. Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

  We walked into Mr. Paxton’s Chemistry class and sat at our table near the window. Chemistry was a lab, so the table had its own sink and stovetop with cabinets underneath.

  I pulled out my stool. “At least I’ll have an excuse for tomorrow.”

  “For the Cooper’s Halloween party?”

  “I can say that I came down with something. Like a stomach bug.”

  James placed his chemistry book on the table. “I can say that you gave it to me.”

  “You’re not going?”

  James threw me a crazy look. “If you and Peter aren’t going, then I’m not going. Think about it. The twins will be busy with the party. That leaves Sadie and Anne Marie. What am I going to do? Hang out with them? And now Olivia’s going? That’s an even bigger reason not to go.”

  A white flash of light exploded in front of my eyes. My right temple throbbed so hard that it tried to break through the skin. I crushed my hands against the pain.

  “Alex?”

  “My head.”

  “Headache?”

  “Major one.” I rubbed my temples and the pain eased. “There, that feels better.”

  “Do you really have plans with Peter tonight or are you dodging out on the haunted house?”

  “No, we have plans. He wants to go on a normal date.”

  “Normal is good.”

  The bell rang. Mr. Paxton cleared his throat and raised his furry white eyebrows. “Yesterday, we discussed covalent bonds,” Mr. Paxton said. “Today’s lab is an example of how electrons are shared between atoms. Open your book to page ninety-eight and complete the lab assignment. Document each step. You have thirty minutes.”

  James flipped to the page. I opened the cabinet under the table to get the necessary supplies. I loaded my arms full of lab equipment and stood up. The entire room rotated. I closed my eyes. Why was the heat cranked so high? It had to be a hundred degrees in here. My skin felt clammy.

  I opened my eyes. The room wasn’t spinning, but the bright overhead lights assaulted my brain. Too bright. Too hot. I wiped my damp forehead.

  “Alex, what’s the matter?”

  “Is it hot in here?”

  “I’m okay.” James pushed his stool toward me. “Why don’t you sit down, you don’t look so good. Maybe you’re coming down with something.”

  I sat on the backless stool. I wiped my sticky hands on my jeans. My headache had disappeared again, but I felt sick. Maybe I was getting the flu. Wouldn’t that be great? I potentially had forty-eight hours remaining in my life and I was going to be sick for them? Wow. What a way to go out un-dramatically. What was that T.S. Eliot quote? “This is the way the word ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper.”

  I laid my cheek on the cool desk and closed my eyes. I was pathetic.

  James touched my forehead. “You’re burning up.”

  “What’s the matter, Ms. Longfellow?” Mr. Paxton’s voice boomed in my ears.

  “I think I’m sick.” I opened one eye. Mr. Paxton’s body blocked out the bright overhead lights. Thank goodness.

  “I’ll take her down to the nurse,” James offered.

  “Yes, Mr. Van Curen, perhaps you should.”

  James lifted me off the stool. My legs were wobbly so James wrapped his arm around my waist. He shouldered my weight and we awkwardly exited the room.

  “What if I’m contagious?” I lifted my head to see James. “You shouldn’t touch me.”

  “I’ll live.”

  He pushed open the office door. It wasn’t as bright in here - the room had dark walls and only one window. The office attendant, Mrs. Fagan, stood from her chair behind the tall counter. The ominous Tardy Book was clutched in her arm. I was proud to admit, that I’d only signed the book twice this year (probably because James drove us to school every morning).

  Mrs. Fagan smiled behind her thick frames. “Why Alexandria! What’s the matter?”

  “She needs to see the nurse,” James said.

  “Of course,” Mrs. Fagan said. “This way.”

  She led us to a door behind the counter. I was thankful that Mrs. Pratt, our Principal who hated my guts, wasn’t anywhere in sight. James led me into the room. The white paper crinkled underneath me when I sat on the cot.

  Mrs. Fagan smiled. “Feel better, honey.”

  “What seems to be the problem?” The nurse asked.

  “She has a headache, stomach cramps and she’s hot,” James answered.

  The nurse felt my forehead. “You are burning up. Let’s take your temperature.” She pulled the thermometer out of the drawer and placed a plastic cover over it. “Under your tongue, please.”

  I opened my mouth.

  James leaned against the wall.

  The thermometer beeped and the nurse frowned when she read it.

  “What’s wrong?” Maybe it was worse than I’d expected.

  “It must be broken.”

  “Broken?” James echoed.

  “It’s reading her temperature as 98.6, which can’t be right. Her skin is as hot as fire. Let me find the other thermometer.” She opened a drawer.

  Hot as fire.

  That’s when it hit me.

  The nurse placed the tip of the squared clunky thermometer in my ear. I waited for the beep, but I already knew it wouldn’t find a fever.

  “Strange,” the nurse said. “This one says the same thing.”

  I made eye contact with James, but he looked as perplexed as the nurse.

  “Is it okay if you write me a note? I’d like to go home,” I said quietly.

  “Can you write me one, too? We drove to school together.” James carefully studied my face.

  “Sure, no problem.”

  As soon as the nurse was done, we headed out of the office. I strode down the hallway and toward the door that led to the parking lot.

  “Hey, wait up.” James jogged behind me.

  I pushed open the door and inhaled the crisp air. “Do you know why I don’t have a temperature?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not sick.”

  James frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Sure it does. I’m receiving.”

  “What?”

  “Receiving. It’s a witch term for this painful process I have to go through before I receive my full powers. My body’s getting ready for Sunday. For Halloween.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Bulb lights encircled the cinema marquee. They blazed bright yellow in the night sky like stationary fireflies. This weekend only two movies played at Hazel Cove’s small 1950’s styled movie theater - Halloween 5: The Revenge of Michael Meyers and Alien. According to Peter, both were classics and pre-Halloween must-sees.

  Peter and I walked underneath the dazzling marquee with the crowd of people who’d just spent the last hour and forty-five minutes watching the white-masked Michael Meyers raise the body count to almost comical numbers.

  “I love that movie more and more every time I see it.” Peter buttoned his coat. “It puts me in the Halloween spirit every year.”

  I rubbed my arm where the shot of hot pain had ignited. It wasn’t as bad as the episode in chemistry today, but the pain was getting intense. Sharper. More vivid. If that was possible.

  “The little girl in the clown suit and I have a lot in common.” I admired the almost full moon.

  “Little Jamie from the movie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Her uncle was trying to kill her on Halloween, too.”

  Peter smiled. “Liam has nothing on Michael Meyers. A butcher knife is much cooler than magic. Sorry, but it’s true.”

  “That’s debatable.” I tucked my hand in the crook of Peter’s elbow.

  We walked down Main Street. Brown brittle leaves fluttered across the s
idewalk. A couple in their early thirties walked hand in hand in our direction. We hadn’t passed anyone in a few blocks and maybe that’s why I noticed them.

  Or maybe it was some internal witch radar.

  The man’s attention lifted from the sidewalk. Deep red liquid seeped over his kind gray eyes. He marked the fourteenth red-eyed spirit I’d seen since our date began at the restaurant and then moved to the movie theater. The ruby was safe in the purse strapped across my chest. I wasn’t letting the receptacle see the light of day. Or night.

  It would stay hidden until Sunday.

  I nodded cordially at the red-eyed man. Liam’s army of spirits were on the lookout, but it was a waste of time. He didn’t have anything to fear - I wasn’t going anywhere.

  More importantly, the army of red-eyes meant Liam was worried. A feeling of what I could only describe as pleasure coursed through me. My grin widened from ear to ear. Liam didn’t have all of the cards. He wasn’t calling all of the shots. That was a small feat in itself.

  The woman saw me nod at her date. She gave me a dirty look and pulled the man closer.

  “Want to get some ice cream?” Peter led me across the street to his truck parked near the water.

  “No way. We just had dinner and an extra-large tub of popcorn. I’m stuffed.”

  Peter frowned. “Where to then?”

  I didn’t want our date to end. Ethan and Emma were home and James would be back from the haunted house soon. As much as I loved all three of them, I didn’t want to go home to a houseful of people. I didn’t want to be away from Peter.

  “Your house?” I suggested.

  Peter’s face lit up. “Late night movie bender?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “I have Rocky Road ice cream in the freezer, too.”

  Peter opened the passenger door and I climbed inside the chilly truck. It was a wonderful night. A normal date with my boyfriend. I should’ve had more of this in my life. More movie theaters and stolen kisses and less death and magic.

  Peter blew into his hands before grabbing the steering wheel. “I’m glad you didn’t want to call it a night.”

  “Me -”

  A searing hot tremor exploded in my chest. I reflexively sucked in a deep gulp of air, but that only made the pain worse. It felt like I’d swallowed lava. Flames flooded my lungs and engulfed my chest cavity. I coughed until my throat was raw, trying to expel the heat. I pushed against the dashboard as the fiery ache spread.

  “Lex, are you okay?”

  I exhaled. The heat was gone.

  “I’m alright.” I inhaled and exhaled again. “They’re getting stronger.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “I don’t think so. Let’s just go to your house.”

  We pulled out of the parking spot and drove down Main Street, past all of the closed shops and restaurants. The Diner was still open, but Emma wasn’t working tonight. Peter slowed to a stop at the light. There was no traffic in either direction, but we sat at the light for over a minute.

  “Small towns,” I mumbled.

  “Small towns,” Peter agreed. “Lex, are you sure you’re okay?”

  “The pain went away. It will get worse over the next day and a half. Don’t be alarmed if I spazz out. It’ll pass.”

  “And this too shall pass?” Peter turned the corner. “Is that how Sarah Ross described her transformation in her journal?”

  “She wasn’t too detailed, but she mentioned feeling fire. The burning. I guess if Victor were alive he’d say it was the Devil inside of me.”

  Peter made a face. “Victor’s probably hanging out with the Devil right now.”

  “Oh!”

  “What?”

  “You reminded me. When you get to that stop sign will you check my birthmark?”

  “Weird request, but sure.”

  I flipped my head over and pushed my hair out of the way so Peter could inspect my neck. The hiss that escaped his lips was all the confirmation I need.

  “Can you take a picture with your phone? I want to see it,” I said.

  The camera flash lit up the truck. I sat up, eager to see the picture. He handed me his phone and my suspicions were immediately confirmed. The birthmark - the same one that appeared as a small circle last year - had grown. It was now roughly the size and shape of a fingerprint.

  “Don’t even say it,” Peter warned.

  “They were right.”

  “You’re talking crazy again. Which, I might add, has been happening more frequently than I’d like these days.”

  “Peter, look.” I held up the phone so he could see the picture. “Gamma was right. The birthmark transformed. It’s shaped like a fingerprint. You can’t deny that it looks like someone dipped their finger in black ink and pressed it on the back of my neck.”

  Peter was silent.

  The Devil’s fingerprint.

  I kept my last comment to myself, but Peter had to be thinking the same thing. He was just too sweet to say so. Instead of arguing with me, Peter shook his head and we drove off.

  We turned onto Dogwood Avenue and Peter squeezed my knee. “You don’t want to go to the Cooper’s party tomorrow?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why?”

  I turned to see if he was joking. “Does last year’s Halloween party ring a bell?”

  “That was last year.”

  I bit my lip.

  Peter parked beside my car in his driveway. “Think about it. It could be fun. Just like tonight. Nice normal fun.” He ran around the front of the truck and opened my door.

  “Thank you.”

  “We’re officially still on a date.” He led me up the sidewalk to his house.

  As Peter unlocked the front door, I peered down the quiet street. All of the houses had their porch lights on and cars parked in the driveways. The blue flicker of television screens were visible in some of the windows.

  A normal night on a normal block in a not-so normal town.

  This town had secrets. It was founded on secrets. Four families of witches called Hazel Cove home. I was a witch and nothing about my life would ever be normal.

  All of the lights were on inside of Peter’s house. Mrs. LaViollette folded a blanket in the living room. “Hey, kids.”

  “Hey, mom. Where’s Anne Marie?” Peter shrugged off his coat and helped me take off mine.

  “They went to a haunted house.”

  “She’s still out with Logan? It’s after midnight,” Peter said.

  I popped my head around Peter’s broad shoulders. “Nice to see you, Mrs. LaViollette.”

  “Hi darling, how are your parents doing?”

  “Spectacular.”

  Peter looked at me and then at his mother. “I know what you two are doing and, for the record, I’m not distracted.”

  “They will be home soon,” Mrs. LaViollette said to her son. “Relax. Let me be in charge of the worrying around here. What are you two going to do?”

  Peter pointed to the couch. “Watch scary movies.”

  “I’m off to bed. I have an early shift tomorrow.”

  She turned to walk down the hallway.

  The urge was sudden. Unexpected, but necessary.

  I whisked past Peter and swallowed Mrs. LaViollette into a hug. She seemed surprised, but she hugged me back tightly.

  “What was that for, honey?” She patted my head and smoothed my hair.

  “Nothing. I just wanted to say I love you.” In case this is the last time I see you.

  “Well, I love you, too. Goodnight kids.” Mrs. LaViollette blew a kiss at Peter and disappeared down the hallway.

  Peter looked pissed.

  “What?” I moved to the couch and nestled into the soft cushions. I flipped off my shoes and tucked my legs underneath me.

  “Don’t start doing that.”

  “Doing what?” I unfolded the blanket and covered myself.

  “Saying goodbyes,” Peter said.

  “I’m not.�
��

  “Then what was that?”

  “Can’t I hug your mother if I want to?” I grabbed the remote off the oversized ottoman and avoided Peter’s eyes. “What movie are we going to watch?”

  Peter silently regarded me for a long moment, but the horror fan in him won out. He went to the entertainment center and opened the cabinet full of DVDs. “How about The Shining?”

  “Pretty scary,” I said. “Why not?”

  Peter popped in the movie, turned off the lights and slid onto the couch beside me. I lifted the blanket so he could get underneath. Peter’s arm slipped around my waist and he pulled me into his lap. I nestled my head under his chin and tucked the blanket around us.

  I hoped that I could defeat Liam on Sunday, because I wanted more nights like this one.

  We settled into the movie. Around the time the twin girls with the blue dresses showed up, my eyes were heavy. The twins stood in the long hotel hallway lined with orange and red carpet as poor Danny escaped on his Big Wheel.

  Poor kid had ghosts after him.

  I closed my eyes during the close-up of the twins. My lids were too heavy to open, so I drifted off to sleep.

  Was it a recycled dream? Possibly.

  I was running for my life in the historical section of the Hazel Cove Cemetery. When I glanced over my shoulder, no one was chasing me. There was only the crumbling tombstones. And darkness.

  Why was I running?

  I listened carefully as I ran.

  Heavy breathing. A pounding heart. Strangely, it wasn’t coming from behind me, but rather, in front of me. I pushed forward, curious to see who it was. The muscles in my legs burned, but I quickened my stride and burst down the sloping hill through the trees.

  The moon’s rays glimmered off something golden. No, not golden.

  Blonde.

  I squinted through the almost nonexistent light until I finally saw the figure sprinting in front of me. A fluid athletic stride. Quick. Effortless. The large build and broad shoulders could only signify a man.

  “Wait!” I screamed.

  Why was he running? What was he running from?

  The man turned when he heard my voice. As he turned, he ran past a line of crumbling tombstones and out from the trees. The moon’s light fell on him, revealing the blonde hair and…his face.

  Peter.