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“What’s wrong with my costume?” I say, somewhat defensively.

“There’s nothingwrongwith it, but it’s going to be constricting as fuck when you start drinking witch’s brew later. Iwould know. Last year, I literally ripped mine apart to get out of it.”

I look at her askance. “What’s in the witch’s brew?” I cannot imagine anything would cause me to rip my own clothes apart.

She flashes me a secretive smile. “I can’t tell you, but you just have to trust me that it’s all a part of the celebration.”

Cutting loose does sound fun…

I run a hand over my spandex catsuit. “This is the only costume I have,” I say.

She gives my arm a squeeze. “Luckily, you have me for a best friend.”

CHAPTER 16

“What am I supposed to be?”I ask, staring at my reflection. I look exactly the same, except for some shimmery makeup and a white satin slip dress that leaves me feeling more exposed than covered.

“You’re a sexy ghost—or a dead bride. Whichever you prefer.”

I want to laugh a little. The whole point of dressing up on Samhain is to mask your true identity so that malicious spirits won’t recognize you. But in this outfit, I look like me, only in white.

“Wow, you truly do work wonders,” I say sarcastically.

The joke goes entirely over her head; Sybil looks thrilled.

My eyes linger on my chest.

“You can see my nipples,” I state.

“Babe, we’re going to be seeingeveryone’snipples by the end of the night. But if it’s a big deal to you, I have pasties. We can also usemagic.” She wiggles her fingers dramatically to emphasize her point.

I tilt my head back and forth, trying to decide if I want to just wear a white dress—for the ease of stripping later, apparently—or put back on my skeleton costume and get an earful from Sybil.

“Do you think ghosts get offended when we dress like them?” I ask. “Seeing as how it’s the day the spirits cross over?”

“You were going to dress as a skeleton,” Sybil points out.

Yeah, but my point still stands.

Sybil lifts a shoulder. “I don’t think the spirits care, but if you want to play it safe, you could always be a living bride.”

At her suggestion, my mind moves to Memnon and his plans to marry me.

I look in the mirror again, my heart beating fast at the thought.

“I could be a bride.” That seems like a more respectful option.

Sybil claps her hands. “Yay! Then let’s find you a veil!”

We do end up finding an old, moth-eaten veil in some forgotten chest downstairs, though the long train of it that trails on the ground was clearly beautiful back when it was new. I put it on after dousing it in a few sanitizing spells.

Just before sunset, I leave Nero in my room with instructions to stay inside tonight since in a few hours the woods will be crawling with drunk witches. Sybil and I head downstairs, where the rest of our housemates have gathered. Dozens of my coven sisters are taking off their socks and shoes and making their way to the front door in all manner of costume. Goblins, leopards, fairies, mummies, vampires—the already magical company looks even more unearthly in costume.

“Shoes off!” one of my sisters calls out to the room. “We’ll need to ground ourselves during the spell circle.”

“Spell circle?” I glance at Sybil as unease blooms in me.

She smiles secretively. “Don’t look so nervous, Bowers. This is the fun part.”