Another body had turned up. This one was from a boating accident. The fisherman’s spirit was still attached to his body upstairs in the morgue, circling and lost and confused, most likely replaying the last moments of his death over and over as if it would have changed the outcome of his status. Once his body was six feet under, he would most likely go back home to look out for his family. He would hang around until hanging around became unbearable, or he found peace. It was hard and too soon to say.
The following day, I spent the morning occupying my rattling mind with work, slept through the afternoon, and decided to stay in and hang out with Gramps in the evening. After dinner, we read in the living room. I snuggled in the corner of his couch withGwendy’s Button BoxI’d picked from the shelf in my lap, and Gramps sat in the recliner, buried in King’s book,Doctor Sleep.Every so often, we would pass a few sentences here and there, but the night was, for the most part, silent and calm.
Once Gramps retired to his room, I laid awake for hours in my bedroom on the second floor, French doors wide open, waiting for Julian to appear. He never showed.
Instead, over the banister of the balcony, laid a white flower in his place—the moonflower. And the same happened the following two nights. After night three, I couldn’t take it anymore and slipped out of the house to search for him in the bitter and selfish woods, where we once ran wild.
Julian was nowhere.
Day after day, he wasn’t at the auto body garage, he wasn’t in Town Square, and by Thursday, bags, the shape of two half-moons, draped under my eyes. All I was left with were these moonflowers. I replayed our night endlessly in my mind with one of the flowers between my fingers, feeling the silky petals and remembering his words. Where was he? Why didn’t he want to see me?
Kane, Monday, and Fable had stopped by Gramps’ house after work, all on separate occasions over the last few days, inviting me places. To walk Crescent Beach, to a bonfire, to family dinners. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Julian.
I’d thought about Kioni’s words, the girl from the palm reading tent. Maybe she had been right. Maybe Mina’s poisoned apple cider made everyone drunk with madness, and Julian was only looking for rebellion and mischief, to let loose like the rest of the town during Defy Day. But Kioni had also said the cider would let the truths out. A part of me wanted to believe that theory more. That hecouldfeel for me the same way I felt for him.
“It’s been almost a week, and I’m still recovering from Defy day,”Freddy said with a laugh through the radio speaker.“Mabon is around the corner, the October’s first full moon is near, and then, my witches, is Samhain. So many celebrations in our future, but let’s kick Friday morning off right with an eerie twist on a classic—”the music started, and Freddy howled“—this is Freddy in the Mournin’ with your Thursday morning Hollow Headlines, and remember, no one is safe after three a.m.”
A cover of Britney Spears’Toxicplayed over the radio in Gramps’ bedroom. I’d moved the old thing in here since it was harder for him to get to the kitchen in the mornings. It was my day off, no recent deaths since the boating accident, and the two of us sat against his headboard in his room, both with a copy of the daily paper in our laps.
“Hey, Gramps?” I asked with the eraser of the pencil between my teeth. “Why does he always say,”—and I cleared my throat to give my best deep and depressing Freddy impression—“‘No one is safe after three a.m.?’”
“It’s the witching hour,” Gramps muttered, not bothering to look up from his paper. He was already ahead of me, half the boxes filled out. I’d told him it wasn’t a race, but we both knew it was. This was our routine in the mornings, competing to finish the puzzle first, drinking coffee in his dimly lit bedroom, and listening to Freddy in the Mournin’.
“What does that mean?”
Gramps fisted his pencil and looked up from his glasses to the wall where his dresser sat, his collection of hats hanging above, and I waited patiently, knowing when and when not to push him. “It means how I said it, Moonshine. No one is safe durin’ the witching hour, especially the flatlandahs. Supernatural and dark magic and all is powahful and strongah. Yah work at the funeral home, when do yah get busy?”
“After three a.m.”
“Bingo,” he grumbled. “It means as yah hear it, as yah see it.” And as the last word fell from his cracked lips, the doorbell rang, echoing throughout the old house. “Those whooperups. No one bothered me ‘til yah got heyah. I’ve heard that damn bell more times this week than in the last twenty years … And what do they want this early in the mornin’, anyway?”
I got up from the bed. “It’s almost noon.”
“Noon?! Yah meaning to tell me we’ve been stuck on this puzzle all mornin’?”
A laugh bounced out of my mouth as I left the room to answer the door.
Kane stood on the other side, wearing a simple white polo under a windbreaker and khaki chinos rolled tight at his ankles above his clean white shoes. He dropped his arm, let it hang at his side.
“So, funny story. We were all up at The Bean earlier and got to talking. Monday said you have quite a sense of humor, and I thought, no way. I’ve hardly even seen the girl smile. She couldn’t possibly be as funny as Monday made her out to be. Then I thought … Well, hell, I need to see this for myself,” he rambled on, “I need to get her out of the house, hear her jokes, make her laugh, see her smile. I need to do all these things, and I’m not gonna stop until you say yes.” He paused to catch his breath and lifted a palm over the side of the door. “We got off to a bad start, and I think it’s only fair I get to know you better, Fallon.”
“Just friends?”
Kane shrugged. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”
I leaned against the door, my brow in the air. “It is, and where do you propose you make me laugh at? And when?”
“Tonight. Everyone’s going over to Voodoos tonight, but we could branch off, do our own thing. Up to you. I’ll take you wherever you wanna go.”
Julian had been at Voodoos the last few times, and the chance of seeing him again revived my deadened hope. I only wanted to see him, to make sure whatever we experienced was still real and raw and everything I remembered.
“Voodoo’s it is,” I agreed with deceit in my heart, using Kane’s kind gesture for my own selfish motives.
Kane’s smile was surprised, and he lifted his chin. “Alright, should I come to get you at ten? Or …”
“How about I meet you there?”
“Right, of course. I’ll meet you there,” Kane repeated, not pushing his luck. He turned and walked backward toward his car, pointing at me. “Don’t forget. Voodoos. Ten tonight. If you don’t show up, I’m coming to kidnap you!” he called out with a playful and perfectly white smile.
