Samhain (Matilda Kavanagh Book 2) (20 page)

Owen stared at me, the yellow light in his eyes fading. I saw the muscle in his jaw working, but he didn’t open his mouth to answer me.

“You don’t know what to say, do you?” I demanded.

“No, I don’t.”

“Because I’m not wrong.”

“I don’t want you to break your heart day after day.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“If you didn’t, then you would leave me alone.”

“Is that what you want?”

I opened my mouth to answer him but stopped before the words escaped me. Was that what I wanted? When Theo had showed up in my apartment and ripped Owen away from me for a second time, I had vowed to pay her back. When I’d made myself that promise, I thought that meant getting Owen back for good, but maybe that wasn’t what I wanted anymore. Maybe what I had promised myself was a wooden stake through her heart and a sword through her neck.

I understood how vampire bonds worked. I knew that Owen couldn’t really help the power that Theo had over him, but we had come so close to severing their connection when we were together. If Owen could’ve been just a little bit stronger for just a little bit longer, Theo’s hold over him would’ve been lost. But he’d gone to her when she’d called, and that was all I could think about. Owen had gone to Theo when she called, even though it meant breaking my heart. That wasn’t love. Not to me anyway. I stared at Owen and realized those flowers of hate weren’t just for Theo. My mouth tasted sour.

His nostrils flared again. “I remember when my presence made you smell so sweet, like night blooming jasmine.”

“And now it’s bitter and angry, right?” I remembered what Fletcher had said to me just a few nights ago about how he knew I’d been thinking about Owen because my scent soured. If you’re thinking about the man you’re supposed to love, you shouldn’t be shrouded in bitterness and anger.

“Yes. Fine then.” Owen turned away from me.

I realized he was going to sneak out the way he’d come in, and I wasn’t sure which way that was. I also remembered that Theo had come into my home because I hadn’t rescinded Owen’s invitation. Being his master, sharing his blood, meant his invitation extended to her.

“Owen,” I said, stopping him. He turned back to look at me, and I saw a flicker of hope in his eyes. I was proud of myself that it didn’t change my mind. “I rescind your invitation. You are no longer welcome in my home.”

A gust of wind erupted in the apartment, rushing through the living room and swirling around Owen in a vortex of power. Papers flew off the table, and a couple of books fell off the bookshelf. I thought Owen said something, but I couldn’t be sure over the roar of the wind that carried him through the apartment and out the open door. I heard him hit the far wall of the hallway. I refused to look at him as I grabbed the door and slammed it closed.

Chapter 14

Mother always said, “Don’t tempt the Fates, Matilda.” That was her way of telling me to make sure I participated in the high holidays and practiced my spells. But she never really had to push me to celebrate the holidays.

Tonight though, I was worried. After everyone had gone home, I finally fell asleep to the chorus of howls echoing over the city. There hadn’t been a full moon on Samhain in a generation, and if that worried Jameson, then it definitely worried me. My concern was enough to make me forget about my encounter with Owen, though every once in a while, a pang of guilt shot through me and I saw his stricken face in my mind’s eye.

The sun was up but low in the sky, and the full moon was coming. I leaned closer to the mirror, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, as I applied mascara. I focused on the black wand in my hand, trying not to think about my now-official ex-boyfriend. I heard Artemis kneading the blankets on the bed behind me, and I made a noise at him to stop. He eyed me and turned his back, flicking his tail before jumping on the pillows and settling down.

“Make all the faces you want,” I said, careful to hold my head still for fear of stabbing myself in the eye. “But you know you can’t claw the blanket.”

Artie didn’t bother to reply. He just closed his eyes and tucked his head under to ignore me.

I gave my lashes one last swipe before jamming the wand into the tube and tossing it into my makeup kit. I ran a finger under both eyes, making sure there wasn’t any wayward eye shadow or smudges, before I stepped back to examine my handiwork.

I had wanted to get some fun highlights before the festival, but I had been too busy to make it happen. So my short black hair was just that—short and black. I tucked one side behind an ear, but that didn’t do much for the shape. I needed to get a cut sooner rather than later. I tugged at the hooded sweatshirt over my garage-washed jeans and flat lace-up boots. The festival was in the park down the block. It would be cold and the ground uneven, so I’d opted for comfort over fashion.

“Guess that’s as good as it’s gonna get, huh Artie?” I turned toward the bed.

Artie picked up his smushed face to look at me. He stretched, flexing his round toes and extending his claws before he meowed at me. I chuckled and crawled onto the bed. I gathered him up and hugged him, not worrying about getting his black fur on my black sweatshirt. I rubbed my face against his head, and he purred so quietly that I felt it more than heard it. His aura shimmered, reaching out and blending with mine. His familiar magic surrounded me and fortified me. I scratched the top of his head before spilling him back onto the bed.

“Thanks,” I said, running my hand down his side.

“Prrow.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Mrrrrr.”

“I promise.”

I turned to walk out of the room, but a niggling feeling in the back of my head stopped me. I walked back to the dresser where I kept a small jewelry box and took out my mother’s pentagram. Holding it up, I watched the circled star spin slowly. It was pure silver, and the chain was fairy floss. It looked so delicate but was enchanted to be one of the strongest substances on earth. She’d worn it almost every day when she was alive.

With a sniff, I blinked back the sting in my eyes and slipped the chain over my head. When I tucked the charm under my shirt, it was warm against my skin even though it had been in that box for months. With my hand over my sweatshirt, I pressed the pentagram into my skin and closed my eyes, trying to remember my mother’s embrace, the feel of her aura mixing with mine.

I blew out a breath and squared my shoulders. Tonight was for celebrating, not mourning.

I headed downstairs and outside. Ronnie and Joey were on the sidewalk. Ronnie was crouched down and locking the security gate to her shop. Joey smiled at me, rocking onto her toes and waving excitedly. She was back to her normal bubblegum-pink-and-sparkle look. Gone were the black combat boots, tattered tutu skirt, and top.

“Hey, I know you,” I teased as I walked up, making Joey smile.

“Yeah, that costume was weird, right?” she said.

“No, you looked cool. Like a badass pixie.”

“Felt weird.”

“Sure. But the wings were a cool touch.”

“Oh!” Her smile stretched across her narrow face. “Those are my actual wings.”

“What?” I felt a ripple of power and glanced over my shoulder in time to see Ronnie pressing her finger to the lock and spelling it closed.

“Yeah, I have wings,” Joey said.

I turned to look at her again and watched as she closed her eyes and screwed up her face in concentration. After a few moments, just as I was afraid she was going to bust an eardrum or something, the air behind her shifted. The iridescent wings I’d admired last night shimmered into existence.

“Oh, so they’re real?” I said, tilting my head to get a better look at them.

“Yeah, but they’re too small to do anything for me,” Joey said with a shrug. The wings winked out of existence. “So I don’t pull them out normally.”

“Too bad.”

Joey nodded.

Then Ronnie was next to us, holding out a couple of the bracelets Joey had been working on while we carved pumpkins. “Full moon tonight.”

We all checked the sky. We couldn’t see the moon yet with the sun still in the sky, but it was coming. The sun was making its way toward the horizon behind me, casting the city in long, cold shadows. A chill ran up my back, and I took the bracelets from Ronnie and worked them onto my wrists. Ronnie and Joey were already wearing a couple of them.

“Are you guys worried, like, at all?” Joey’s voice reached an almost squeaky quality that made me cringe.

“Of course we’re worried,” Ronnie answered.

“But we have to go to the Great Bonfire,” I said, and Ronnie nodded. “Jameson said he would deal with Tollis’s people. It’s his job, and I trust him.”

“Sure,” Joey said, but not like she believed us.

“The magic of the bonfire will protect us.” Ronnie placed a hand on Joey’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

Joey nodded, and we turned to head down the sidewalk. The street was much more crowded than it normally was at that time of evening. It was a little too early for most supernaturals since the sun was still up, but everyone wanted to be at the festival when it started, just like us.

As we made our way down the street, more and more people came out of buildings and around corners, joining the growing throng. I stepped on a fallen flyer and nearly lost my footing. Only Ronnie’s quick hand on my elbow kept me upright.

“What is that?” Joey asked as she bent over to pick it up. “They’re all over the place.”

I glanced around and realized she was right. Every light pole, window, and car had one of the purple flyers affixed to it. I assumed they were unnecessary advertisements for the festival, but when Joey’s face shifted from casual curiosity to anger, I knew I was wrong. I took the flyer from her and sighed.

“What?” Ronnie asked.

I shook my head and handed her the flyer.

“Seriously?” she demanded.

The flyers were P.E.A.C.E propaganda, condemning the Samhain festival.

“It’s just a fair,” Joey said. “Not a big deal.”

“For them it is.” I balled up my fists and hid them in the pocket of my sweatshirt, afraid of releasing any bolts of power.

“They don’t like fried foods? Music? What?”

Ronnie crumpled the flyer into a ball and threw it in the gutter. “We raise power at the fair too.”

“Well, yeah,” Joey said with a shrug.

“Don’t try to figure them out,” I said, turning to walk with the crowd again.

Joey and Ronnie hurried to catch up with me. It was difficult, but I tried to ignore the purple flyers. The closer we got to the park, the more prominent the flyers were, with five or more on every parked car. When we were still about two blocks away from the park, I smelled the sweet and savory aroma of the fairway, and my stomach grumbled impatiently. Soft music filtered back to us, but a strange chant undercut it.

“Come on,” Joey groaned as we reached the last block before the park.

Years ago, the festivals were held in Carraway Park, but the fae court had decided that since their
Sithen
was there, the city should pay them to use the park. So the city moved the festival to Summerwick Park, which acted as a natural border between Brighthaven and the human-populated Hollywood.

People were fighting to get across the street because a line of protesters blocked the way. They stood shoulder to shoulder, some with arms linked, chanting their hate and holding their protest signs. There were pictures of witches tied to stakes over fires and others with werewolves eating babies.

“Just keep walking.” I pulled my hands out of my sweatshirt and took Ronnie’s hand to lead the way.

Ronnie grabbed Joey’s hand and dragged her along. Two young boys, dressed identically in black slacks, white shirt, and gray ties, tried to bar my way into the park.

“Not a good idea boys,” I said.

The guy on the left glanced down at me, since they both towered over me by at least half a foot. The boy on the right just looked tired and even a little embarrassed. He was trying desperately not to look at anyone. Lefty sneered at me and pressed his shoulder closer to Righty, planting his feet shoulder-width apart.

“That’s your play?” I looked up at him, but he wouldn’t look at me again. I looked at Righty and said, “You could move and make this easy on everyone.”

Something passed over his face. He did try to shift his weight subtly and pull away from Lefty, but Lefty wouldn’t have it. He linked their arms and held firm.

“All right, your choice.” I shrugged and lifted my free hand, letting them see the snapping, angry bolts of power lifting from my fingers.

Righty went pale and tried to lean away, but Lefty held firm, pulling him back.

“Last chance,” I warned.

When they didn’t move, I placed two fingers on Lefty’s chest and zapped him. He screamed and fell backward, creating a perfect gap for us to walk through. I tugged on Ronnie’s arm and pulled her to follow me. Righty glanced at me, and I was sure I saw the tiniest of smiles hovering around his mouth.

We walked over Lefty, making sure to step on his soft stomach as we did, making him
oof
and groan in pain. Once we were on the grass, the sounds of the protesters fell away. I felt the shift in the air as we crossed an invisible barrier. When I turned back to look at the protesters, there was a soft edge to everything.

“Thank goodness,” Ronnie said as she let go of me and Joey and smoothed her shirt.

Joey stepped close enough to the barrier that her pointy nose almost touched it. “This is new.”

“Brilliant though,” I said, feeling some of the tension slide out of my shoulders. “C’mon.” I led the way up the grassy knoll to the flowery archway entrance, pleased with my choice of footwear as the ground dipped and rose.

Two massive trolls guarded the entrance, their stony eyes fixed on the protesters beyond the protective barrier. The festival organizers had walled off the entire park with massive, ten-foot high bushes. Stationed at twenty-foot intervals were wand-wielding witches, all of them watching the members of P.E.A.C.E. and running forward every so often to touch the barrier with the tips of their wands and mutter an incantation.