Page 4

Chapter Four

C lover straightened the cloak over the dress she’d borrowed from her mother. It had been made for the founders’ day play a few years ago. It was a little scratchier than what she was used to, being made of wool, but it was warm, especially with the petticoats underneath.

She’d planned to pull her long hair up and put a cap over it as her mother had done for the play, but she figured it would be warmer if she left it down and simply covered it with a kerchief.

Clover was plunged into darkness as she stepped out of the parking lot lights and onto the path through the woods to the campsite. She could distantly hear the sounds of merrymaking, but she couldn’t see the bonfire she knew would be burning.

The good luck charm, still hanging around her neck, glowed brightly in the night though not enough to see by.

Pulling her phone from her apron pocket, Clover flipped it open and found the flashlight icon. The LED light illuminated the mulched path before her, and she strode on with confidence.

The nocturnal creatures were quiet this evening, and the only sounds were the wind rattling what was left of the dry autumn leaves hanging from the branches above and the distant murmur of laughter.

Clover shivered. She never much liked the night, especially at this time of year when the days were getting shorter and each dawn felt like a miracle. Too much was hidden from sight; it felt cold and dangerous. She knew she wasn’t alone in that feeling; many summer sorcerers and witches felt the same.

She gathered her skirts in her free hand and quickened her pace. A few minutes later, she finally saw the warm flicker of the fire surrounded by a circle of tents. Ari hadn’t said whose party it was, not that it much mattered. It was always an open invitation to all summer sorcerers and witches for things like this.

As she approached the fire’s glow, she could feel the dimming magic of the sorcerers and witches around her. It was there, no mistaking it, but it was sleepy—a faint hum to what it had been over the last few months.

There were probably fifty people there from what Clover could see—talking and laughing, eating and drinking—in the area around the campsite. She scanned the costumed figures for Ari.

“Clover!” Ari cheered, hopping up from her seat on Rhys’s lap. She flitted over to Clover, the bells hanging from her lace fairy wings tinkling as she walked. Her short golden hair shined in the firelight, as did her summer tan, which had yet to fade.

Embracing her best friend, Clover relaxed as warmth spread through her.

Ari pulled back, grinning at her. “You’re glad you came, right? I can already tell. Come sit by me.”

After taking Clover’s hand, Ari led her back to where Rhys sat. Rhys nodded and waved in greeting, which Clover returned.

“Babe, would you get Clover a drink, please? I brought that lingonberry cordial just for her.”

“I see how it is,” Rhys grumbled. “Your wife is here, so I’m thrown to the wolves.”

The women chuckled at the long-standing joke.

“Love you, babe!” Ari called loudly after him as he headed over to a picnic table bursting with food—even the benches had platters on them.

“So how was your day? Did you—” Ari started.

“Babe!” Rhys interrupted. “Which one is it?”

“It’s right there. The one labeled lingonberry cordial.”

“I don’t see it.”

Ari sighed heavily. “Ugh, I’ll be right back.”

Clover snorted, quirking a smile at the couple’s dynamic. It had been a while since Clover had been in a relationship, but she’d never found anything like what Ari and Rhys had. She could never quite mesh with the men she’d tried dating—sorcerer or ordinary.

Clover settled herself onto a log near the fire, glancing around to see who else she might know. She recognized a few faces from open rituals and dipped her head at them if they made eye contact. But many of the people there looked closer to her brother Llew’s age, which was probably why they seemed only vaguely familiar.

As she nodded to the youngest daughter of the potter family who made the vases they used in the flower shop, someone sat down beside her.

Clover jumped, surprised at the arm suddenly pressed against hers. Her head turned to see the slicked back hair and high-collared cloak of a Dracula costume.

“I vaunt to suck your blud,” Rune said in the worst impression Clover had ever heard. Then he flashed a set of plastic vampire fangs at her with a hiss.

Clover’s stomach rolled. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known he was going to be here .

Rune laughed and removed his false teeth, smiling that predatory smile he always seemed to wear. She couldn’t believe she’d ever given him a chance; even one date was too good for him.

“Hey, Clover, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were avoiding me.” He smirked as if he knew that wasn’t possibly the case.

You’d be right.

The sense of peace and belonging Clover had felt upon arrival dissipated. “Hello, Rune,” she said flatly.

He kept going as if she were happy to see him. “Wow, that’s a great costume.”

Clover cringed as his green eyes flashed with lust. She didn’t want to know what he was imagining while his gaze traveled over her.

“What’s that?” he asked, reaching toward the three-leaf clover charm glowing at her chest.

She flinched away from him, jumping to her feet. Sighing in relief as Ari and Rhys headed back toward her, Clover stepped away from Rune without another word.