Page 49

It probably is. I’ve just been burned by the last spell circle, so I now assume the worst.

Begrudgingly, I remove my shoes and tuck them into a corner, the floor feeling chilly against my bare feet.

One of the witches throws open the door, and another cries out, “Let’s party, bitches!”

Then there’s clapping and laughter, and all of us begin to funnel out of the residence hall. In the process, several witches step on my veil, making my head jerk back and nearly ripping gossamer thin material. Eventually, I have to murmur a spell to make the thing float like fog behind me.

We make our way across the grass behind our house then we plunge into the Everwoods. Here, under the thick shadows of trees, it feels as though night has already fallen. There’s an electric heaviness to the air like a storm cloud about to break.

We reach the pumpkin-lined path, the unlit lanterns above us bobbing in the evening breeze. An owl hoots in the distance, but besides that, a solemn sort of silence has descended over the forest.

We walk along the path until it opens up onto Slain Maiden’s Meadow. Only days ago, Memnon pledged himself to me here. Now, the field is filled with countless costumed witches. In the center of the clearing, there’s a massive pile of wood and kindling.

The moment the sun dips beneath the horizon, a strong wind cuts through the clearing, stirring our hair and costumes.

“In a circle!” an older voice calls out. “Witches, grasp one another’s hands, and take position. It is time!”

Time for what is still unclear, but I follow orders anyway, grasping the hands of a witch with long, wavy black braids and another with cropped blond hair.

Once we’ve arranged ourselves, that grave silence takes over again. I can hear the soft snap of our outfits blowing in thewind, but everyone is so quiet and so still. Even our magic seems subdued, the air almost entirely clear of it.

“Welcome, honored sisters, to our one hundred and eighty-seventh annual Samhain ceremony!” an older feminine voice shouts. I can’t tell who it belongs to, only that magic has amplified it. “Samhain is the holy night when the veil between worlds thins. Tonight, we have gathered to welcome guests from these other lands who wish to visit Earth for an evening. We will invite them through the doorway here, but in order to do so, we must call on our communal power to help open it for the evening.”

So there it is, the reason for the spell circle. We’re pooling our magic to help widen the rift between worlds. Sounds totally safe.

“Then,” the witch continues, “we will make our way down the path to Last Rites Cemetery, where a feast awaits us and our honored guests.

“Beware,” she warns. “Not all spirits are benevolent, and not all guests are dead?—”

What in the seven hells does allthatmean?

“—so use caution even while enjoying the revelry tonight. Other than that, dance, drink, sing, mingle with our honored guests, and give in to your own innate wildness.”

In the distance, wolves begin to howl, as though acknowledging our wildness with their own.

Another witch now speaks. “Let’s commence the celebrations by incanting the following:Air above and earth beneath, here at last our worlds meet,” she says.“Goodfellows and the dearly deceased, come and join our hallowed feast.”

Down the line of our hands, I feel the current of her power run up my right arm and down my left, and I remember absently that magic moves in a clockwise direction for creation and counterclockwise for destruction.

She begins the incantation again, only this time, the rest of us join in. “Air above and earth beneath, here at last our worlds meet. Goodfellows and the dearly deceased, come and join our hallowed feast.”

I jolt as what began as a small current now amplifies. The magic that would normally waft off us funnels itself along the line of witches, the throb of it startling and decadent as it passes through me.

Again we repeat the phrase. And again and again, until the air is electric and my body is a live wire.

Est amage, what is happening?Memnon says, cutting through the magic-induced haze of my mind.

Witch stuff, Memnon.

I don’t know if he says anything after that. Magic is filling the space where my thoughts are. There’s only this moment and the touch of my sisters’ hands, and the world is magic, all magic, I think as my limbs tremble from the power and heat engulfs me.We are magic.

“…come and join our hallowed feast?—”

All at once, the nearly unbearable power flowing through me is sucked toward the center of the circle.

With a crack like thunder, the air rips apart. From it pours forth a wave of some translucent substance. It takes a moment for my eyes to realize it’s not a substance but spirits. Dozens of them. They cut across our circle, heading for the lantern-lit pathway.

“Welcome!” one of the witches shouts, her greeting trailing off into a cackle as more and more specters cross over, their ephemeral forms streaking across the clearing. Laughter rises around me, and I feel it bubbling up in my throat too. The aftereffects of the communal magic have left me lightheaded and euphoric.