Samhain (Matilda Kavanagh Book 2)

by Shauna Granger

  I hefted out a double handful of orange goop, and it landed on the newspapers covering the kitchen table with a wet slap. My hands were starting to feel stiff with cold. I didn’t know why Ronnie and I always insisted on getting such huge pumpkins, but we did. These were the size of a troll’s head—I could almost crawl inside them.

  “What kind of face are you gonna do?” Joey asked from across the apartment.

  Ronnie’s apartment wasn’t much different than mine, with the living room open to the small dining area off the kitchen, but her apartment was bigger. She even had an extra bedroom. That bedroom now belonged to Joey, who had moved in after Ronnie and I had saved her from her werewolf ex-boyfriend. He’d had a bad reaction to a love spell I’d stirred up for Joey.

  “Just something scary,” I said with a one-shoulder shrug.

  “We like traditional.” Ronnie opened the oven to retrieve the third tray of cookies. A gust of chocolate-scented heat washed out of the oven, swirling around us and making my mouth water.

  “Are any of them cool enough yet?” I looked over my shoulder at the cookies resting on wire racks on the counters.

  “I told you, these are for the trick-or-treaters,” Ronnie said as she slid the cookies off the sheet and onto a wire rack. “Not for grubby little witches.”

  “Takes one to know one,” I shot back, threatening her with a handful of orange slime.

  “Don’t throw away the seeds.” Ronnie started dropping mounds of the chocolate chip cookie dough onto a new, cool pan.

  “I am not spending hours picking through this goop for bloody pumpkin seeds,” I said, raking a spoon down the inside of the second pumpkin. I still didn’t understand how Ronnie had gotten me to clean out her pumpkin as well, but there I was, doing it.

  “I’ll do it!” Joey said, and before either of us could blink, she was off the floor and by my side, her tiny, pointy fingers in the growing pile of gunk.

  “I thought you were making charms,” I said.

  “I need a break. Besides, I’ve been dying to squish some of this stuff!” She grinned maniacally, holding up her hands as she squished handfuls of stringy pumpkin guts.

  Ronnie made a face, scrunching up her nose and shaking her head, but I laughed. Seeds worked their way between Joey’s fingers, falling on the wet newspapers silently.

  “Feel better?” I asked, one eyebrow arched.

  “Oh yeah,” Joey said, digging her hands into the mound of goop. “That’s the stuff.”

  “Weirdo.” I flicked a seed at her.

  By the time I was finished with both pumpkins and drawing a creepy face on mine, Ronnie had the last batch of cookies in the oven and Joey had a bowl half-full of seeds. Ronnie came over to join us, a Sharpie in hand. She wore a black apron with orange frills along the bottom and a smiling pumpkin face patch on the pocket. Her curly coppery hair was piled on top of her head, adding a good three extra inches to her five-foot-three height. She bit her lower lip as she sat in front of her hollowed-out pumpkin. Ronnie shifted it back and forth, deciding which side would provide the perfect canvas.

  Not many supernaturals participated in Halloween like humans did, with jack-o-lanterns and passing out candy or dressing up in costume, but we did. These traditions were leftovers from the Dark Ages, and it felt good to revive them. Sure, we used pumpkins instead of gourds or turnips, but pumpkins were easier to carve. These giants would last all week, especially after I poured a little anti-aging elixir on them.

  And maybe the goblins and ghouls who threatened our doors were really children dressed up as Superman or ballerinas, but damn it, they were cute, and it was fun. The funny thing was, even if a supernatural was against participating in the human holiday, once they had kids of their own, they sang a different tune. We didn’t have many kids in our building, but every year, more and more kids from the human neighborhoods ventured into Brighthaven, our little corner of West Hollywood. They came with their pillow cases and plastic pumpkins, knocking on doors and hoping to see a real witch brewing in her cauldron or the yellow lights in a werewolf’s eyes.

  It was terrifying and fun for them, and I loved it.

  But every year, I seemed to forget how hard it was to carve pumpkins of this size. Once they grew over fifteen pounds, the rinds became hard as rocks, and I found myself putting all of my weight behind my hand as I carved. That was the other reason we stuck with simple, creepy faces. It would be impossible to cut tiny, intricate shapes when we had to practically stab the thing just to get the knife through.

  Ronnie plucked the second eye out of her pumpkin. “How many bracelets did you get done, Joey?”

  “Thirty,” Joey said as she picked through the stringy orange guts, finding every last seed.

  “That gives me about fifty,” Ronnie said, more to herself than to either of us.

  “Isn’t that enough?” I started in on the gaping maw of a mouth I’d drawn on my pumpkin.

  “How many orders do you have for anti-hexes and banishment charms?” Ronnie asked, looking at me with her eyebrows high on her freckled forehead.

  “Too many,” I said.

  “Exactly. Last year I had sixty charms made. I sold out two days before Samhain, and there wasn’t a full moon. The gods only know how many I’ll need this year.”

  “What’s the big deal about the full moon?” Joey asked, letting her hands rest on the pile of goop. I heard the squishing as she flexed her fingers back and forth.

  “Psychic ability is higher at the full moon, so mental powers are stronger for everyone. People get nervous that someone might attack them, magically, during a full moon. Now add to that the thinning of the veil between the worlds, and people get a little anxious,” I explained.

  “Wait, I didn’t think psychics could do magic?” Joey turned her confused lavender eyes from Ronnie to me.

  “No, no,” I said, shaking my head, “we don’t mean psychics do magic. We mean people can perform stronger spells because their mental powers are stronger with a full moon.”

  “Right,” Ronnie said. “A lot of people—witches, wizards, hedge witches, even humans—practice certain spells based on the phases of the moon and the days of the year. So when the moon is full, they have better results with spells that affect other people’s minds and psyches.”

  “Do you follow?” I asked.

  “I guess,” Joey said slowly, “but I thought Samhain is the just end of the harvest.” Her pink brows drew together in confusion.

  Ronnie said as she examined her handiwork, “It’s also a time of high magic and people communing with the dead. People just get a little nervous is all, and with a full moon in the mix, it’s better that I have as many protection charms as possible.”

  “People are weird,” Joey said as she played with the pumpkin guts.

  “Yes.” I nodded as I grunted, fighting with a particularly hard spot on my pumpkin. “But people are also conniving and sometimes evil, so it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  “What can people do to each other during a full moon on Samhain that they can’t do any other day of the week?” Joey asked.

  Ronnie and I shared a look, but I shrugged at her. Joey was her assistant. Ronnie was the one educating the pixie, so I would let her answer these questions.

  “It’s not what they can do that they can’t usually do,” Ronnie said, glancing up. “It’s just that there is more universal energy to tap into. It makes people more powerful, their goals easier to attain. I remember my mom telling me about a group of girls who were hexing this one girl in their school because she had stolen one of their boyfriends. They’d been trying to hex her for a while, but the girl was careful to keep herself warded. They tried again with a full circle on the night of a full moon.”

  “Lemme guess,” I said, pausing to give my cramping hand a break. “The hex worked.”

  “Yep.” Ronnie nodded. “The girl’s ears and nose grew three sizes, and it took months for her mom to undo the curse.”

  “Why didn�
�t they hex the boyfriend?” Joey asked, her voice pitching and making my ears hurt.

  “I dunno.” Ronnie shrugged.

  “But he’s the one who left his girlfriend. Why get mad at the girl? I don’t understand.” Joey looked from me to Ronnie and back again.

  We both just shrugged.

  “When people feel scorned, it’s hard to understand their logic,” Ronnie said.

  “Or lack thereof,” I said.

  “Either way, you see how much power a full moon can give someone. Now add to that the energy raised on a holiday, and it can be dangerous,” Ronnie said.

  “Yeah.” Joey pushed away from the table and stood. “Guess I better make more.” She went to wash her hands at the kitchen sink.

  “So,” Ronnie said to me, “tell me about your mysterious meeting tonight.”

  I was struggling with a weird bump on the face of my pumpkin as I tried to carve out the sinister grin. I let go of the knife and fell back into my seat, blowing my bangs out of my eyes. Joey slowed to a stop on her way back to the living room, her pink brows high, clearly wanting to hear the story as well.

  “Well, I was sworn to secrecy,” I said as I picked dried pumpkin guts from under my nails.

  “Mattie,” Ronnie said.

  I smirked. “Yeah, yeah.” I sat up straight, gripped the handle of my knife, and yanked it out of the pumpkin. “Actually it was kind of interesting. The client is Mayor Fox.”

  “Seriously?” Ronnie asked as Joey said, “Ooooh, he’s cute!”

  “Yes,” I said to Ronnie. To Joey, I said, “And you wouldn’t think so if you knew what he wanted help with.”

  “Oh gods.” Ronnie’s hands went still as she looked at me over the two pumpkins. “Please don’t tell me…”

  “That he needs a healing potion for the ailment he contracted from someone other than his wife? Sorry to disappoint.”

  “Gross,” Joey said, and I nodded.

  “I voted for him!” Ronnie said, stomping her foot.

  “So did I.” I stabbed at my pumpkin again, imagining Fox’s stupid grinning face.

  “Are you going to brew the potion for him?” Joey asked.

  “Of course. I mean, a customer is a customer, and he’s gonna pay for it, believe me.”

  “Should let the toad squirm,” Joey said before she headed back into the living room and settled on the floor in front of the coffee table.

  “You’re going to need some special items for that kind of healing potion,” Ronnie said. “I think I’ve got everything in the shop that you’re probably missing. Unless you’ve brewed one of these potions before?”

  I glanced at Ronnie and shook my head. “No, this will be a first for me.”

  “Careful people don’t find out about your new services,” Joey called over her shoulder. “Your apartment will be flooded with infected nymphs in an Underworld minute.”

  Ronnie and I shared a sour look.

  “Thanks for the heads up,” I said.

  “Anyway,” Ronnie said with a dramatic sigh, “come to the shop tomorrow, and I’ll have everything you need ready.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Ronnie turned away at the sound of the timer and went to the oven to pull out the last batch of cookies. The melted chocolate and warm sugar smell was really getting to me, and my stomach made a rude noise. When I pushed out the last piece of my jack-o-lantern’s mouth, I pushed away from the table and strolled into the kitchen.

  Leaning against the counter, I said, “I’ll need a few other ingredients too.”

  “Oh?” Ronnie prompted, not looking at me as she slid the cookies, one by one, onto a wire rack.

  “Yeah.” I picked up a cookie from the nearest batch. “He also needs a sort of anti-love-banishing potion.”

  “For the love of toads, Mattie! I said no.” Ronnie struck at me with her spatula, but I danced out of the way with a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie.

  “What’s the anti-banishing thingy for?” Joey asked.

  “Anti-love and banishing,” I said. “The girl involved in the whole thing is, I guess, kind of obsessed with the creeper.”

  “And he wants you to fix that little problem for him?” Ronnie asked.

  “Yep, yep,” I said before I popped the last bite of cookie in my mouth.

  “Bridge dweller,” Ronnie muttered as she wiped her hands on her apron. She came back to the table and picked up her carving knife, gripping the handle hard enough to make her knuckles turn white. “I tell you what, I am not voting for him next year.” Ronnie slammed the knife into her pumpkin, the blade sliding in almost to the hilt. It actually looked kind of cool with the deranged face she’d managed to carve into it.

  “You should dribble some fake blood on it and leave the knife,” I said.

  Ronnie smirked and picked up another knife to finish working on the nose. Ronnie and I finished our jack-o-lanterns within minutes of each other. We turned off all the lights, and I blew into my hands, creating two cold, blue flames. I tipped them inside the hollowed-out pumpkins. The faces were menacing and creepy as the flames flickered, casting shadows all around the apartment. Satisfied with our handiwork, we set to cleaning up.

  Joey opened the door for me as I walked my armload of pumpkin guts and wet newspaper out to the trash chute in the hall. I was struggling with the hatch, trying to open it without spilling the goopy mess all over the floor when I heard a door slam down the hall.

  “What are you doing?” a familiar and terrifying voice rang through the hallway.

  Thank the gods I was already tipping the mess in my arms into the chute, otherwise, I would have dropped it on my feet and ruined my new black-and-purple Converse. With my shoulders hunched up around my ears, I turned, slowly and reluctantly, until I faced a fuming Frankie, one of my werewolf landlords. Frankie’s family owned our building, but only she and her brother actually lived there. Therefore, they were mostly responsible for the building as a whole.

  Frankie was temperamental at the best of times, but during the days leading up to a full moon, she was a real beast. Pun intended. Tonight, her spikey, trendy hair was a shock of blue. The tiny pieces framing her eyes set off her glowing yellow irises, warning me of how close to the edge she was. For one terrifying moment, I thought I saw her fingers lengthening into claws.

  She stormed toward me, forgetting to lock her door, and stopped within inches of me. I flinched when her hand shot out, but she only grabbed the handle of the trash chute and pulled the hatch open. Tiny slivers of pumpkin guts clung to the hinges, and I said a silent prayer that I would make it out of this alive, if not unscathed.

  “What. The. Hell.” Frankie bit off each word. She leaned forward, her face dangerously close to mine.

  I smelled the forest and the tang of blood under her cloying perfume. My mouth went dry, and I forgot how to speak as I watched her eyes shifting with power, her pupils growing long and thin.

  “We were carving pumpkins,” I whispered, but I couldn’t even hear myself clearly.

  Frankie pressed closer to me, her nose almost touching mine. I tried not to look at her mouth, scared I would see her teeth shifting into fangs.

  “And you just threw that mess into the trash chute? So that slime could coat the chute and bring flies into the building?” She wasn’t yelling.

  I think I would have been less terrified if she were. Her hissing whisper crawled up my spine and pulled my skin tight against my bones, and I knew if I so much as twitched a muscle, she would be on me like a dog with a bone. “I’m sorry,” I squeaked.

  “Sorry?” Frankie let go of the hatch, letting it slam closed, and I jumped.

  A cold sweat broke out at the small of my back, and I was terrified to even breathe. “I’ll clean it, I promise,” I managed to choke out.

  “You’re damn right you’ll clean it,” Frankie hissed.

  I felt the power rippling around her, her wolf rising inside her and threatening to rip out my throat and feast on my body. I closed my ey
es against that image. Frankie growled, and I almost fainted. I heard the ding of the elevator just before the doors slid open. Frankie stood up straight, pulling out of my personal space so quickly I nearly fell over. My heart was pounding, having lodged somewhere in my throat, and I fought to swallow it down. My knees were weak, and I worried I would collapse right there.

  “Hey there, gorgeous,” a familiar, soothing voice called out behind me.

  Frankie smiled, rearranging her face so fast it was like a magic trick. “Kyle,” she purred, stepping around me to meet him.

  I let out the breath I was holding. My shoulders slumped, and my arms shook in relief.

  “Hey there, Mattie,” Kyle said jovially.

  I turned around, trying to smile, but it felt like a grimace. I tried not to look at Frankie as she clung to his side, her hand on his chest. I think if I hadn’t been there, she would’ve pressed him against the wall and taken him right there in the middle of the hall.

  “Heya, Kyle,” I said, my voice stronger but still shaky.

  “Everything okay?” His black brows drew together as he looked at me.

  I couldn’t help but flick my eyes to Frankie. She was glaring at me, daring me to out her. I’ve made my fair share of mistakes, but I didn’t have a death wish.

  I managed a weak smile and shrugged. “Peachy keen.”

  Kyle nodded slowly, but the look on his face told me he didn’t really believe me. “All right.” He glanced down at Frankie. She was twining two of his thin, long braids between her fingers, waiting impatiently for me to leave.

  “How’re the headaches?” I asked, not wanting to be rude or obvious by running away, screaming, from the maniac she-wolf.

  “Better, thanks to you,” Kyle said with a bright white smile. “Probably need a refill this week though.”

  “Just come by,” I said with a wave. “Well, you two kids have fun tonight.”

  I slowly edged around the werewolf couple, walking backward toward Ronnie’s door. I just wanted to put that slab of wood between me and Frankie’s golden eyes. Frankie liked Ronnie, and I knew she’d never do anything to damage Ronnie’s apartment, unlike mine. She’d happily rip my door from the hinges and bill me for the damage.