Page 52 of Moth to a Flame

I nodded and stepped over the broom. My skirt swirled as the air magic in the enchantment churned, kicking up dust around my ankles. Hawk left one last soft kiss on the back of my neck before stepping away, and I kicked off into the sky.

Instinctively, I closed my eyes—then realized that might be a terrible idea with the number of trees growing in my front yard. I opened them and found myself floating even with the manor’s second-story windows.

“Hawk, I did it! I’m flying!” I looked down at the ground, and he was nowhere to be found. My heart skipped a beat as I scanned the sky. Then a flash of red drew my attention to the roof of the north tower.

In the faint moonlight, all I could see was the shadow of his wings and the crimson glint of his motorcycle goggles.

That and a smaller winged shadow beside him.

Both swooped overhead, blocking out the moon, and I willed myself higher, following them.

Above the treetops, Hawk looped back around and came up beside me, grinning. “I knew you could.”

Mugen landed on the front of my broom and chirped, expressing the same sentiment.

I scratched under his jaw. “We used to fly together all the time, didn’t we? You missed it?”

He meowed, stretching his back before taking off again and jostling me slightly.

Hawk caught my shoulder, steadying me. “First lesson in lurking—keep to the shadows and rooftops.”

“And the second lesson?”

He flew away until he was nothing but glowing red eyes and a grin that suddenly felt a little too wide.

“Let them see just enough of you to want more.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Country Roads

We circled over Pumpkin Hollow a few times. The whole town was lit up with string lights stretched between every building, and bodies jostled everywhere in the town square. Music played from the wooden gazebo at its center, and I saw a witch dancing with what looked like absolutely no one. But I knew better than to question things like that in a town like Pumpkin Hollow.

Shifters of all varieties prowled amongst the crowd, and that, paired with a ridiculously high amount of pheromones for this time of year, had me flapping my wings to rise higher. Lucia followed easily, then pointed to the tallest building in the area—the post office.

I landed on the roof without a sound, and Lucia and Mugen touched down behind me.

From up here, the whole festival spread out like one of Lucia’s astral charts, each tent and game its own star—the apple-bobbing barrels by the café, the fortune-teller’s tent glowing ominously purple at its seams, a line of kids waiting for donuts with pumpkin faces. Mugen immediately curled up on the warm chimney flue, supervising with his eyes closed.

Lucia settled on the roof’s edge and pointed things out to me in a low voice.

“That’s the diner’s stand. Victor basically keeps this festival running. I wonder if that’s the new co-owner with him?

“Those ladies are the coven who live up at the old cathedral. Don’t think they’re particularly religious, though.

“That’s Rowan—he makes the best cupcakes—and his new baker.”

She knew everyone. Every stall, every face, every family. Up on this roof, she reminded me of a silent guardian keeping watch over the sleepy New England town.

Below us, the crowd cheered as the band struck up a new song, a faster one. Lucia leaned forward, and through the bond, I felt her light up—like she was down there dancing with them.

The whole square was people touching people, talking to people, being answered by people.

People being heard just as they were.

The bond went cold so fast it made my wings twitch. Longing, and underneath that was something worse.

Certainty.