Page 9

Chapter Six

On the night of Samhain, Ena stood in her bedroom, staring at herself in the full-length mirror.

She’d donned her mask, along with a floor-length, long-sleeved black dress.

It was low-cut and made from soft wool to keep her warm in the cool, fall night air.

The built-in bodice, complete with laces made from the same dark-green ribbon that was on her mask, hugged her curves exquisitely.

It was by far the most she’d dressed up in a while, although she wasn’t quite sure who would be at the bacchanal to impress.

But still, sometimes, it was just nice to look nice, especially on her favorite night of the year.

She fussed with her long, wavy hair before ultimately deciding to leave it down, then she leaned closer to the mirror to inspect her face.

The black and dark green of her mask made her bright-blue eyes stand out even more than usual, but caused the delicate pink-rose color of her lips to look a bit washed out against the paleness of her skin.

There was nothing she could do about that—she’d always been exceptionally pale, so much so that the blue veins in her arms and on her chest looked close enough to touch.

But at least the mask hid the dark circles that had recently appeared under her eyes thanks to the recurring dream she’d been having.

Deeming her look acceptable, she turned away from herself to head downstairs.

She wasn’t even outside before she could sense the energy in the air, the growing anticipation and buzz of her Knowing alerting her to the presence of many new people at the gathering.

She followed the sound of voices outside to find Greya and Thyla waiting for her by the garden gate.

The sun had just set, and the night air was crisp and refreshing.

Ena could see other groups of witches and mortals walking down the village’s main path towards the Sacred Grove.

Her heart felt lighter at the sight of it.

Despite her recent feelings of alienation, she loved celebrating Samhain with her Coven, and she was hopeful that losing herself in the revelry would give her a reprieve from her discontentment, at least for a night.

She approached her sister and friend with a genuine smile on her face.

“You look fantastic!” Thyla greeted with a big smile of her own.

The witch, who was Greya’s age, was wearing a bright-orange mask decorated with tan and black cloth to resemble a fox’s face.

It was exquisite and must have taken her forever to make.

Aside from her skill with the animals and in preservation techniques, thanks to her Gift, Thyla was also particularly adept at sewing and dressmaking, so Ena wasn’t surprised.

The mask suited her dark-red hair extremely well, as did her cream-colored dress with flowing sleeves.

“Thanks. You too,” Ena replied, leaning in to hug her friend.

Greya stood next to her, looking regal in a gray silk dress with white beads embroidered on the bodice and her atra owl mask.

Knowing that her path was to one day become Coven matriarch, Heran had spared no expense in trading for the finest fabric for Greya’s outfit.

It was important for her to appear powerful, especially when witches from other Covens were present.

Even though they were allies, the Aquilo and Auster Covens were constantly vying for greater influence over the surrounding mortal villages.

The more they were revered and respected by the mortals, the more people sought their Coven’s potions and spells, and in exchange, the greater access that Coven had to resources received in trade.

Appearances were not only important for establishing that Greya had a favored path with Gaia, as the intended future matriarch of the Coven, but also for the Coven itself, which she would represent when Heran passed.

Turning to look at her sister, she noticed that her tall shadow was missing. “Where’s Perse?” she asked.

“He’s already in the clearing starting the music with Adim,” Greya replied.

Perse’s Gift of sonia was highly sought after on celebration days like Samhain.

Not only did it allow him to amplify sounds, including music, but he was able to manipulate them as well, creating some of the most beautiful music with his fiddle that you’d ever heard.

Music that sang to your blood and reverberated in your bones. Ena loved dancing to Perse’s creations.

Exiting the gate, Ena, Greya, and Thyla chatted excitedly amongst themselves as they joined the others on the path to the Grove.

The clearing was already nearly full with revelers by the time they got there, the wild fiddle music and beating drums filling the quiet of the night.

A large bonfire burned in the center of the clearing, with several smaller fires scattered throughout.

Unlike the light and joyful exuberance of Litha, Samhain was a dark gathering focused on the outlandish and obscene.

There were no food tables or barrels of ale, only large open bowls of a strong, red wine.

No cups were provided, however, only large ladles, as it was tradition to have the wine ladled into one’s mouth by another.

This inevitably caused wine to spill all down one’s front, and last year, Ena’s lavender dress had been ruined beyond repair when Greya had giggled a little too hard pouring the wine into her mouth. Hence the black dress this year.

Clusters of people filled the surrounding forest, hidden by the darkness of the woods as they laughed and canoodled.

Ena knew some of those couplings would turn into outright public fornication before the night was through—last year, she’d been close to being one of them when she’d gotten a bit carried away with Cris.

She mostly blamed the wine and the intoxication of Samhain for that misjudgment.

She really did like Cris, but she’d realized long ago that they were better suited to being friends.

She just hoped he realized that, too, because despite the…

encounters they’d had in the past, Ena was not looking for anything more from him.

Surrounding the bonfires was the main event—dancers both fully and partially dressed moving wantonly to the music Perse and Adim created, letting their bodies writhe freely as a tribute to Gaia and the dwindling energies of summer as they Turned to fall.

As Greya made her excuses and went off to dance for Perse, Ena hung back with Thyla and scanned the crowd, noting several familiar faces.

Unintentionally, her eyes locked on one face in particular as he stared at her.

Cris was in a bear-shaped mask over by one of the smaller fires and gave a small wave when they made eye contact.

“Is that Cris?” Thyla asked, her big brown eyes lighting up at the sight of him.

“Yeah, you should go say hi,” Ena encouraged. She knew Thyla had always had an unacknowledged crush on Cris, and she hoped that by pushing them together, Cris might take the hint.

Smiling politely in his direction, then turning away so as to discourage him from coming over, Ena looked up at the clear night sky.

It was filled brilliantly with stars that twinkled and beckoned.

Watching them, she took a deep breath. The crisp night air filled her lungs and that feeling, that call to the unknown, again ran through her.

She needed to go somewhere, needed to do something , but she wasn’t sure what.

All at once, she was practically itching out of her skin, so she fidgeted by reaching behind her head to tighten the ribbon holding her mask in place, but she pulled too tightly and felt it break, separating from the side of her mask.

“Damn it!”

“Oh, no, did your mask just break?” Thyla asked, her brows bunching in concern as she drew her attention away from where she’d been eying Cris.

“Yeah. It’s okay, though. You go ahead. I’ll run back to the house and fix it really quickly.”

Pushing her way through the crowds in the clearing, Ena swam upstream through the flows of people coming down the path and walked quickly back to the village. It was quiet when she made it to Heran’s house, everyone having made their way to the bacchanal already.

She walked up the path through the garden and spotted Fergus the cat slinking around by the front door.

Instantly, her Knowing told her something was wrong.

His tail twitched and he seemed perturbed.

“Fergus?” Ena asked. “What is it?” Reaching down to scratch his soft, black ears, she heard a loud thud come from inside the house.

“Heran?” she called, walking in the front door. “Everything okay? I heard something drop.”

Silence was the only reply. She walked cautiously to the altar room, where she’d heard the noise come from. Then a deep voice came from behind the closed door.

“It’s not here. I’ve looked everywhere.”

Ena froze. Someone was in the altar room. Someone whose voice she didn’t recognize.

“Well, look again. It has to be here,” a different male voice replied in a hushed tone.

Thieves, maybe? Mortals didn’t usually dare steal from witches, not given how much they relied on their services, and because everyone knew they were no match for witches’ magic. These men were clearly sorely mistaken about whose house this was, or they were simply stupid.

Mustering her best powerful, pissed-off witch face, Ena approached the door and threw it open. “What in Gaia’s name do you think you’re doing in here?”