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The unlit bonfire at the center of the clearing now lights, the wood snapping and smoking as it goes up in flame.

None of us witches have released our hands, and we begin to sway and dance as one, moving in a circle. I don’t know who decides this. Maybe it was me? I can’t tell if my thoughts are my own orours, the collective whole of our coven.

Someone begins to hum, and the melody catches, until we’re all humming the same wordless tune.

The song grows louder, and the dancing becomes erratic until someone—or maybe all of us—decide to release hands. The magical current cuts off abruptly, and what’s left in my body leaves me tingling and high off power.

“To the feast! To the feast!” a witch shouts, and though the group’s magic is no longer linking us together, I still feel that shared unity, and carelessly, I laugh.

At the sound of it, a nearby witch dressed like a wraith comes in close and gives me a hug, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Merry Samhain,” she whispers before dashing off.

More laughter fills the space as sisters dance and embrace, their eyes and hair a little wild. I’m sure I look the same.

I was wrong to worry about this spell circle.Thisis how they are meant to be. A moment of unification between witches and a reminder that we are all one.

Sybil appears out of the crowd. “C’mon, my nubile bride!” she shouts, grabbing my hand. The bonfire’s flames dance in her eyes, giving them a moonstruck look.

As soon as my fingers entwine with hers, she cackles. The sound is contagious, and I begin laughing with her, feeling lighter than air. And then we’re running, racing alongside dozens of other wild-eyed witches and eager spirits, all of us following the magical road.

As we careen down the pumpkin-lined path, a deathly chill moves through me. A spirit emerges through my abdomen, and I let out a startled scream at the sight of its transparent form.

The spirit, a young man in a three-piece suit with slicked-back hair, lets out an echoing laugh and streaks ahead of us.

Sybil laughs and laughs at my reaction, her spelled butterfly wings beating behind her. Her laughter turns into a choked cry when a hag on a spectral broom flies out from her body before careening through the group of witches ahead of us. Now I’m cackling and Sybil’s reluctantly giggling, and our bare feet are stepping on sticks and rocks, and I know I’m getting nicked but the wind is smoothing my satin slip over my body like a lover’s touch and raking its fingers through my hair and the veil floating behind me, and I’m caught up in the magic of the moment.

That all ends when hoofbeats—then screams—erupt behind us. Sybil glances over her shoulder, her eyes going wide.

“Seven hells!” She veers off the path, dragging me with her. She’s not fast enough.

I hear the pound of hoofbeats a moment before someone snags my veil from behind me, lurching me backward. I stumble, about to turn around, when a hand catches me around my waist, lifting me off the ground and onto a steed.

I cry out as my ass lands on an oiled leather saddle. I glance up at a man with sharp, dark eyes and inky hair that seems to be decorated with raven’s feathers. My gaze lands on his pointed ears.

A fae.

Did he come from the portal we opened?

“There’s been a mistake,” I say, pushing against the man’s chest, my dress riding up my legs.

His arms tighten on me. “I don’t think so. You’re dressed like a bride.”

My eyes widen. “A b-bride?” I echo. What had Sybil said long ago? Something about stories of fae snatching witches from these woods to be their brides? “No, no. This is not anactualwedding dress, and I’m definitely not looking for a groom. I kind of already have one of those in fact. This is a costume.” I squirm some more in his arms as his horse cuts down the path, nearly trampling dozens of other witches. “Seriously, let me go.”

“No.”

My gaze snaps to his. The fae lifts his chin, as though he doesn’t think a witch like me will do anything.

Maybe it’s the side effects from all that communal magic. Maybe it’s just that I’m tired of bossy men. Maybe it’s that the last fairy I crossed paths with tried to kill me. Or maybe it’s the fact that this pretty asshole is openly trying to abduct me.

I rear back a little, then punch the fucker in the face. The fairy’s head snaps back, and his whole body recoils, falling away from me. I must’ve added a little power to the hit. Whoops. I shake out my throbbing hand as the fairy slides off his horse, hitting the ground with a dull thump.

Witches jump out of the way around him, a few of them letting out startled screams.

What is going on, est amage?

Why do you only ever talk to me when there’s a problem?

I’m trying to give you space. Now, what’s wrong?