Page 3

Chapter Three

W hit sat at the work table in the back room of his antique shop, carefully polishing the tarnish away from a silver trinket box. The swoops and swirls of the carved filigree flowed into images in his mind—a Christmas present from a loving father to his precious little girl, an heirloom to a favorite niece who’d just lost her beloved aunt, one of the few valuables clutched tightly on a treacherous ocean voyage, and on it went. The images of the many emotional moments that had been imbued into this box. The love, the tears, the eventual abandonment.

Those moments weren’t enough to have made the box an anchor object for a ghost; it hadn’t been loved quite that much or witnessed something truly horrible. But its long history and its many experiences were enough to give Whit flashes of where it had been and who’d owned it. And, most importantly in his business, how old it was and where it had been created.

This was Whit’s job, his life. Every day, he cared for the once-beloved things that were left behind or discarded. These things, this touchable history, were people’s lives to him. So much energy went into acquiring and using them that he could see entire lifetimes in their surfaces.

He loved each and every piece in his shop, whether someone had sold it to him directly or he’d found it at an estate or garage sale. Each one was precious to him, and he especially loved finding them a new home with the right people.

He was so absorbed in the images of the box that he didn’t hear the bell above the door chime as someone entered the shop.

“Hey!” Alexandre popped his head into the back room a few minutes later.

Whit’s heart jumped as he nearly dropped the box. “Jesus!”

Alexandre’s dark face brightened as he flashed a smile. “You haven’t called me that in a while.”

Whit snorted at his friend’s joke.

“What are you doing back here?” Alexandre glanced around. “Chatting with the dead? I don’t see anyone.”

Shaking his head, Whit placed the box on the work table. “Not today.”

Alexandre crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe that led into the shop proper. “You okay? Your phone was off, and you didn’t answer when I called out to you.”

Whit sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t really want to talk to anyone.”

Alexandre stared at his friend for a long while. “What happened? I haven’t seen you look so serious since your grandmother died. Is your grandfather all right?”

Whit nodded. “Yeah, he’s fine. He…he called me down this morning to tell me he’s leaving the house to Caldwell.”

Alexandre lifted one side of his lip as his nostrils flared in distaste. “You’re getting evicted?”

Whit sighed again before continuing, “If I don’t get married before the solstice, I guess I am.”

“What?” Alexandre’s voice rose in surprise. “That’s crazy! You’re not even seeing anyone… Are you?”

Whit shook his head. He would have to do the math on how long it had been since he’d had a date.

“Why would he make that a requirement to stay in the house?”

Whit shrugged.

“Where are you supposed to find someone to marry before then? Unless…” Alexandre grinned. “Are you going to Vegas? Take me with you.”

Whit just stared at his friend. Nothing in the years they’d known each other should ever have made Alexandre think Vegas was a place Whit would go. “No. And in any case, I need a witch. He was specific about that.”

Alexandre raised one eyebrow dramatically. “You think you’re going to convince a winter witch to marry you on the fly? That’s impossible. Those women are way too serious to do something like that.” He groaned suddenly. “You’re not thinking about calling Faustina, are you? Don’t tell me you’re getting back with her. Do I need to remind you how much she messed you up? I’ll lock you in a basement and feed you under the door until New Year’s if that’s what you’re planning.”

Whit hadn’t thought about Faustina in a while. As far as he’d last heard, his ex-girlfriend had gone to visit extended family in Europe. He’d never been as ambitious as she’d hoped. She wanted that high life, and the fact that he didn’t become a doctor or lawyer or politician disappointed her to no end. But despite everything she’d put him through, he’d been absolutely decimated when she’d left him.

Whit shook his head. “Not if she was the last woman on earth.” He needed a woman quickly, but he didn’t need one like her. The hopelessness of his situation crashed down on him again. How could he even get to know someone well enough to ask her to marry him before his deadline?

Alexandre sighed in relief. “Thank the winter gods! So…are you still going to your family’s ritual tonight?”

“I don’t know. My mom will be mad at me if I don’t, but I’m just not in the mood.” Whit tilted his head as he looked at Alexandre’s expression. “Why…?”

Alexandre’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “I don’t have to visit my family for Fèt Gede until tomorrow…”

Whit knew that look in Alexandre’s eyes too well. It had gotten him into more than his share of trouble over the years.

“Okay…”

Alexandre grinned. “So I thought you might like to go to a party.”

“Ugh, a Halloween party? I don’t have the patience for ordinaries tonight.”

Alexandre raised a finger and wagged it. “Not a Halloween party. The summer sorcerers are celebrating the end of summer. I heard they got a campsite in Forest Haven woods.”

Normally, Whit would have avoided such an outing at all costs. Even with his magic on the rise and the summer sorcerers’ magic waning, even with him having the advantage, it wasn’t worth the potential fallout if they were caught.

The hostility between the two factions had been going on for centuries. They likely never would have come together at all had it not been for the mutual threat of puritan witch trials—not that their treaty was entirely peaceful or long lasting. The animosity between the two factions had cooled to a rivalry rather than a proper war in modern times. Though every now and then, things went too far, and someone really got hurt.

But the thought of going home that night and being surrounded by people he wasn’t particularly happy with at the moment made him reconsider his standard rejection.

Sensing his hesitation, Alexandre doubled down. “We don’t have to do anything big. Even just showing up is prank enough for me. They’ll never know we were there. You know they’re going to have tons of food and drink. A good party is a good party. You won’t have to go to the ritual, and you won’t be sitting around moping.”

“I’m not moping,” Whit grumbled.

Alexandre raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

“They’ll recognize us as winter sorcerers. They’ll at least know they don’t know us.”

Alexandre lifted his chin with pride. Then reaching behind him outside the door, he held up two masks. “I got you.”

He handed Whit a silver masquerade-style mask. It covered only the nose and above and had the ears and spiral horns of a ram; the surface featured etched floral designs.

Alexandre nudged Whit with his eyes.

Finally, Whit gave him a small smile. “All right. Who can say no to free food?”