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Rattle the Cage

Page 131

by Kylie Cross

“Wow.” Nash gawked at it, lowering herself toward the counter to get a better look. “That’s pretty good, Sweet Lamb.”

Looking over at Butch — who was perched on the chaise of the couch — Blade nodded. “It looks just like him.

Even Cyrus agreed. “That’s our boy.”

Biting my lip, I couldn’t help but enjoy feeling like a part of their traditions. They’d all let me in, let me befriend their feral cat, let me know their own dark secrets.

Before tears could well in my eyes, I waved them off and nodded to Nash. “You next.”

Nash lifted her pumpkin and slammed it down on the counter, a thud as it hit the counter. “Ta-dah.”

“Holy shit.” My jaw dropped as I looked at the gourd. It was more like a sculpture than a jack-o-lantern. A near perfect replica of the carousel at the center of Feverpoint, Nash had carved out multiple horses and poles. She’d even managed to copy the swirling designs of the carousel’s rounding boards.

“Daaaamn.” Running her hands through her blonde locks, Blade could hardly fathom it.

“There’s fucking shading, that’s insane!” I scoffed. “No wonder you’re an artist. Jesus.”

“Thanks, guys.” A slight flush rose to Nash’s warm, brown skin.

Looking to Cyrus, I narrowed my eyes on her. “You’re up.”

Without much fanfare, Cyrus spun her pumpkin around. She lit a small tealight with her zippo lighter and set it inside the hollowed husk.

My brows furrowed as I took it in. Crawling vines crept around every curve of the squash. She’d perfectly layered her vines, some places darker and light than others. It was at the very least on par with Nash’s.

Rubbing her face, Nash scoffed. “Fuck off, you did that with a fucking kitchen knife.”

Cyrus shrugged. “I’m pretty good with a blade.”

My throat tightened at the thought. I’d caught glimpses of her chest, her legs. Intricate scars rose from her skin. I’d never gotten close enough to see exactly what they were, or even to ask how she’d done them.

But if this carving was just the beginning of her skills, I could only imagine what lay under that heavyweight tshirt.

Before I could get carried away, Cyrus rose from her stool. The legs scraped against the concrete floors as she scooped her pumpkin off the counter.

Each of us grabbed our jack-o’-lanterns and headed for the balcony door. Nash kept the tealights in hand as we stepped outside.

“Oof, it’s cold.” I shivered as the cold evening air smacked into me.

Holding her pumpkin by the carved rim, Blade pulled me in for a hug. Her body radiated heat as she wrapped me up in her arms. “Don’t worry, Trinket. I can warm you up inside.”

Cyrus rolled her eyes as she placed her pumpkin down near the railing, facing her intricate design toward the loft’s glass windows. Without any neighbors in the abandoned amusement park, there was no one but us to impress.

We lined our work up, Nash placing a light in each one’s center and letting the flicking tealight show the details on each carving.

There was no telling how long we stood there, watching them.

It was a perfect collection of pumpkins, some serious, some goofy. Just like all of us.

My chest ached as I examined each of them.

A little family that would brave the cool fall nights together.

Like the one I’d been waiting for my whole life.

63

TESS