“And I don’t like the idea of them.”
“What I’m hearing is you’re scared,” I tease.
“No, I didn’t say that.”
Torrin snorts behind us.
“They have one on the outskirts of the city,” Torrin says, stepping between us and giving me his attention. “It’s huge, and the production quality is amazing. We went when we were… what? Fifteen?” He spares a glance at Donovan, who looks like a pouting child. “Donovan punched a guy holding a chainsaw, and then tried to fight all the actors who came to the guy’s rescue. To be fair, they were all dressed up and rushing at him. Anyway, we got kicked out and he’s never gone near a haunted house since.”
I’m laughing so hard tears are filling my eyes. The image of Donovan still being a badass even when he is scared is too great.
“He came around the corner and nearly touched me with that damn chainsaw. The broken nose was justifiable,” Donovan grumbles, and I laugh harder.
“It wasn’t even real!” Torrin says, throwing his hands up.
“Go away,” Donovan says, but if I’m not mistaken, there’s laughter in his eyes when he looks at his friend.
Torrin bows, his horns sliding up on his head a bit, and retreats to the back of the group.
As the night wears on, the Halloween festivities in the area fade, and there is an obvious change in the energy. Jack-O-Lantern lights are snuffed out, leaving their husks dark and hollow. Lights all around are dimmed, and everyone gathers around the middle of the square.
My eyes are focused on the elders from all three covens as they come together in unity to light the massive lanterns on the south side of the square. The huge wooden beams holding them up are wrapped in places by intricately curled iron. At first glance, the lanterns don’t seem like much of a big deal, but if you look too long, they kind of resemble hanging cages big enough to hold a few humans each. It’s a little eerie. And if I didn’t know they’d never actually held anyone, I’d be worried for what’s to come.
My body floods with a feeling of familiarity, but this time, a memory comes along with it.
I’m holding my mom’s hand. I can almost feel it, the memory is so vivid.
Music starts up from somewhere in the distance. Flutes and violins. Their melody is light and lifting.
I close my eyes as Fabien grabs my hand.
An image of my mother comes to the forefront of my mind as my hips begin to move.
She’s there.
She’s there, burning bright in the middle of a memory. Wetness builds up in my eyes, but I’m smiling.
“Astra,” Donovan whispers in my ear. The concern in his voice is apparent, and I’m such a wreck of emotions that it sendsme over the edge. Tears leak out despite my effort to keep them trapped behind my closed lids.
“I’m fine,” I assure him in a choked whisper. “I remember her. She had brown eyes like mine, and her skin was slightly darker than my own. She was beautiful.”
Her smile is radiant in my memory, telling me her beauty wasn’t only skin deep. She was a good person. She loved me. She helped anyone who crossed her path in need.
Donovan’s knuckles brush against my free hand. Next thing I know, his fingers are sliding between the spaces of mine as our palms become pressed together. I swallow thickly and somehow manage to smile harder.
“Go dance,” he tells me. His tone is tender, and when he gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, I fall a little harder for him.
Blinking back the tears, I look up at him.
It’s right on the tip of my tongue to tell him those three little words with a big meaning.
He’s staring down at me like he’s ready to hang on to every word I say.
But I chicken out. I keep those words trapped behind a smile because I don’t want to do anything to ruin this night. It’s not like I’m asking him to love me back, but most people assume they have to respond with the same kind of confession of affection. I just have this urge to let him know how I feel. That’s all. Maybe I’ll get another chance later. Or maybe it’ll die with me.
I shrug the thought off as Fabien drags me away, and I don’t let go of Donovan’s hand until I’m forced to.
It’s time to dance for the souls who’ve lost their way.
