We pushed into the crowd, moving single file. Ember took point, her petite frame cutting through the throng with terrifying efficiency. Mayhem followed her, acting as a battering ram for anyone who didn’t move fast enough. I was in the middle with Discord, followed by Patrice, Miles, and Shade, with Ash and Chaos bringing up the rear.
Music blared from speakers set up on street corners. Performers juggled fire—amateur hour compared to what my family could do—and vendors hawked glow sticks and overpriced cider. To call it sensory overload would be an understatement.
But underneath the festivity, the tension was palpable. The air felt thin, static-charged. My arm hairs stood on end, and every few steps, a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature raced down my spine.
“Do you feel that?” Discord whispered, leaning close to my ear.
“The thinning?”
“No, the hunger.” He nodded toward a dark alleyway between a fudge shop and a souvenir store.
I squinted, and the shadows in the passage moved, writhing with a darkness that was deeper than the lack of light.
A group of college-aged girls dressed as fairies laughed, stumbling toward the alley, likely looking for a shortcut to the next bar. Two small, slimy creatures with needle-sharp teeth dropped from the fire escape, landing silently behind the girls.
“Imps,” I muttered. “Lovely.”
One of the girls screamed, laughing at the same time. “Oh my god, look at that animatronic! It looks so real!”
She reached out to touch the imp. The beastie chittered, its mouth opening to reveal rows of serrated teeth, ready to take a chunk out of her hand.
“Help them,” I whispered to Discord.
He broke from our line, moving with a speed that blurred the edges of his form. To the human eye, he probably just looked like an enthusiastic actor.
He grabbed the imp by the scruff of its neck just as it lunged. The creature shrieked—a high-pitched sound that shattered a nearby streetlamp bulb—and clawed at Discord’s arm.
“Bad puppet,” Discord boomed, his voice projecting over the crowd.
He squeezed, the sound a sickening crunch, and the imp went limp. He tossed it into a dumpster with a casual flick of his wrist.
The second imp might’ve been a little smarter than the first. He froze, seeming to recognize Discord’s authority, and hobbled toward him.
“Minions should not attack unless ordered to.” Mayhem stepped out of the crowd and stomped his cowboy boot on the dazed beastie. Squelch.
“Whoa!” The girl clapped, her eyes wide and glassy with alcohol. “That was amazing! Is this part of the Haunted Happenings tour?”
“VIP experience.” Ember grabbed the girl’s shoulder and spun her back toward the street. “Show’s over. Move along.”
The girls giggled and stumbled away, completely oblivious to the fact that they’d almost been imp snacks.
“Subtle,” Ash deadpanned as we regrouped.
“It worked.” I shrugged. “Let’s keep moving.”
We picked up the pace, weaving through the Common. The crowd began to thin as we moved away from the main tourist hubs and toward the edge of town, where the pavement gave way to a gravel path leading to the woods.
The further we walked, the heavier the air became. The festive atmosphere faded, replaced by an eerie silence. The wind picked up, swirling dead leaves around our feet in mini tornadoes that felt a little too intentional.
“I don’t like this,” Shade said, his voice tight, his hand on the hilt of a dagger.
“Keep your eyes up,” Chaos warned. “The wind carries the vibration of dark magic.”
We reached the edge of the asphalt. Ahead, the trees loomed like skeletal fingers against the moonlit sky, their shadows stretching long and distorted across the darkened path.
A family of four—tourists who had clearly taken a wrong turn—walked toward us, looking at a map on the mother’s phone.
“Excuse me,” the dad said, stepping in front of Ember. “Do you know the way to?—”
