“And you know I’m not going to let anything happen to you, right?” The words came out so quick and easy, but I meant them.
“It’s all too much. Are you sure this is something you’re up for?”
My brows pinched together. “I jumped off a cliff. I’m pretty much down for anything at this point,” I said through a chuckle, then sank into her bed on my side, pulling her down with me, determined to change the subject. “Now, tell me something real.” It had been a game of ours, and usually she’d tell me things of the outside world, which all confirmed I wasn’t missing anything spectacular.
The tip of her finger drew imaginary lines over my chest and my stomach, connecting the dots of my three freckles. My abs clenched. “Ireallywant you to tell me a story,” she whispered.
“A story.” I laughed. And from me, she always wanted to hear stories, ones that were real, ones that weren’t. Legends and tales and ones about my childhood. “Okay,” I said, closing my eyes, one coming to mind that may put her at ease. “When I was a boy, before Johnny and Jolie were born and it was just me, Agatha used to make me moon milk every night. I wasn’t a very good sleeper either, never slept like everyone else in the way I should. And even after I fell asleep, I would wake after the witching hour and sleepwalk through the woods as if I were on the hunt for something, always searching and searching. Agatha always made a joke about me being born from the womb of the forest with only half a soul. I didn’t understand it really, but nights she made the moon milk were the quietest ones. The ones I slept without waking. She would make me moon milk with chamomile, fresh strawberries and sprinkled red flower petals, lavender cacao, and some with graham cracker and marshmallow. But my favorite was the blue Majik moon milk. Cinnamon and maple syrup and vanilla—” I paused, pushed my hand through her hair. “I’ll have to make it for you one day.”
Fallon nodded, smiling. “I’d like that.”
I didn’t tilt my head to the side when my own smile appeared behind my mask this time. Perhaps I deserved this one. “So, after Jolie was born, I was about ten at the time, she had a hard time sleeping, crying all hours of the night. I remember waking up to make her the moon milk so my mother could rest, but the drink never worked on Jolie. Then with Johnny, I did the same thing, and still, it did nothing for them. I’d asked Agatha about it one day, why it was only me who found so much reprieve with the midnight drink. She’d said the moon milk recipes had come from the Lone Luna of Weeping Hollow, meant for only the first-born son of a Blackwell to offer him peace during restless nights. And I never understood it, not until a few months ago, I suppose.”
“Why’s that? Why only a few months ago?”
“Because the Lone Luna was Freya Grimaldi. Your mother.”
Fallon
“The Harrison’s are looking for any information that could help in locating missing eighteen-year-old River Harrison. If you know anything, head down to see Officer Stoker,” he paused, gathered a breath, “In other news, there are two weeks until Samhain, witches. I hope you’re stocking up on candy for the little flatlanders and finalizing plans on where you’ll be celebrating. Who knows, I could be right next to you and you wouldn’t even realize it.Spoooooky, right? This is Freddy in the Mournin’ with your Saturday morning Hollow Headlines. Keep safe out there, and remember, no one is safe after 3 am.Owooooo,” Freddy howled.
The flyer pinned to the Beech tree in town square flapped with the mid-morning winds, a“Have you seen me?”tag line printed over a black and white photo of River Harrison.
A chill crept into the air. Not the bite of wintry intimidation, but just a nip to warn us. An overcast hovered Town Square, only glimpses of the sun shining through a thin layer of gray clouds like a stained-glass window. Most trees stood naked, adorning the sidewalks with their scarlet and gold beauty. How was it that the season of death was so alluring? I was convinced my soul lived in the haunting fall.
Kioni and I walked through the pumpkin patch as pies and crumbles swelled in the air, everyone in wool coats and snug hats to cover their ears. Leaves tumbled from the weary boughs of the stubborn branches. Each one fell as if plucked by an invisible hand, Fall’s version of a snow globe.
“This one,” Kioni stated, standing in front of the largest pumpkin of the patch with her arms crossed, a cup filled with Wicked Death Wish hanging from her fingers. I pulled the wagon closer to her and dragged my gaze from the pumpkin to her maple eyes to the wagon, then back to her. She shrugged, studying the pumpkin. “We’ll need a bigger wagon.”
“We need a smaller pumpkin. Or a forklift.” I squinted an eye. “Maybe a crane.”
“No,” she shook the black ribbons in her hair, set her coffee down, “I refuse to leave this for the Goodys. Winnifred always wins. This year, I’m winning. Come on, help me.” Kioni parted her legs, bent down in knee-length boots to secure hold at the pumpkin’s base. When I hadn’t moved, her desperate eyes snapped up to mine. “Please, it will take both of us.”
“What’s the prize?” I asked, dropping the wagon’s handle and walking to the opposite side.
“A year … supply … of—” she released a heavy breath as we tried to lift it off the wooden crate floor “—Mina’s hotcakes.” She groaned before the pumpkin slipped, and we both fell back on our asses. “What could possibly be in this thing, a dead body?”
“Could very well be River’s,” a voice stated, coming up behind us. Kane approached, and I looked up at him as he held out a hand to help me up. I didn’t take it. “Would you look at that, Fallon has a newfriendand suddenly she’s too good for us.” He withdrew his offer, fastening his hands together behind his back and looking down at me as Maverick and Cyrus appeared at his side. “Has she been filling your head with nonsense about us?”
Leaves crunched and shuffled under my boots as I got to my feet, tucking my hair behind my ears when Kioni took a seat atop the giant pumpkin. “Yes, Kane, because the three of you are so interesting. Please, go on,” she waved her hand in aget-on-with-itgesture, “I need more material for the afternoon.”
Kane smiled with tight lips. “I see living on Goody Farms has soured your mood. Why don’t you and your mother stay with me a while? I have room for the both of you,” he said, lifting his arms out at each side. “I’ll even make sure you’re ripe before I drop you back off at the farm.” Maverick laughed, and Cyrus stood silent with foolproof posture.
“You’re disgust—” Kioni started, when Kane’s voice swallowed hers, “Oh, calm down. I only want my girl back.” He looked at me. “This is your last chance, Fallon. Come to Crescent Beach tonight. Your coven will be there waiting for you.” I couldn’t come up with something brilliant to say in time before they walked away without a trace other than my angered heart.
A tension-filled silence moved in the air as we watched their backs.
“Asshole,” I whispered.
Kioni side-eyed me. “Now you say something?”
The wagon’s wheels shook from behind Kioni’s bicycle as we rode the beaten path up the willow-lined dirt road to her cabin, her fat pumpkin slowing her down. I was less awed by the tunnel of autumn colors and more concerned for Kioni as her breathing became harsh and as rugged as the rocky path.
“Goody Farms?” I asked, riding next to her in my scooter as she struggled up the hill. “Did he say you live on Goody Farms? Like Clarence and Zephyr Goody Farms?”
“Well … there’s … no … other … Goody … here,” she huffed out through strenuous breaths.
“Let’s switch,” I suggested, feeling terrible even though she was the one determined to have this specific pumpkin because it wasthe one.
