Chapter 20 #2
“Don’t worry, dears, Aunt Tilly is here,” a voice cracks out, and sure enough, there’s the rest of my coven.
Aunt Tilly, a spry older woman with a shock of short, newly dyed pink hair, is flanked by Em and Tara.
Her shirt screams “Pussy Palace” in neon sequins, and the shapes of monster dildos are embroidered all over it.
I know what each one represents because Tilly explained them each to me in depth the first time I met her.
“Pussy Palace? Oh, she’s my new favorite,” Posey says, cackling.
“That’s right, girlies, the Pussy Palace is the place social media dreams are made of, and I can’t wait to check you three in!” Tilly does a finger gun at the Romantic sisters, and Tara pinches the top of her nose as Em laughs wildly.
“Right,” Aiden says, his tone crisp. He’s clearly ready to get this show on the road.
I am, too.
I glance at my watch. “We have four hours until the soft open sidewalk sale.” I nod at Aiden.
“It’s time for our cider-fueled Ghoulfriends Walk.
We have as many people coming for this as we can.
Aiden and I brewed the potion—cider—over the last two weeks.
The spell is cast by everyone walking, sweeping, drinking the potion, while the rest of us,” I motion to my coven and the Romantic sisters, “chant the words. We’re passing it off as a new fall festival opening tradition, and Em—”
“I have a whole busload of guests from the hotel dressed up and ready to go. They’re excited to try The Salt Circle’s first nonalcoholic beverage, by the way.”
“Dressed up?” I ask, confused.
“Oh yeah,” Em nods enthusiastically. “We sold it as a fall costume party. I thought it would be more fun for all of us… oh, and I figured a whole town full of people in witch hats would look great on social media.”
“Thinking about social media while we’re trying to banish evil spirits is totally diabolical but also somehow amazing,” I tell her bluntly, giving Aiden a disbelieving look.
Aiden grins at me, and my heart skips a little because damn, he’s cute.
And I get to bone him. Win-win.
I take a deep breath and pull back my shoulders.
“Alright then.” The street is packed with people.
A sea of pointy-witch-hat-clad tourists mill about over the pavement, bathed in the warm glow of the autumn sun.
They’re joined by residents of New Hopewell, some of whom I’ve met in passing, some who are new faces to me—and Em passes out more witch hats and brooms until every single person has both.
Aiden and Jack follow in her wake. Aiden hands out paper cups full of piping hot “Fire Cider” as Jack pushes a cart loaded up with the stuff through the crowd.
The new nonalcoholic drink, I know they’re telling everyone, will be available at The Salt Circle through the end of November.
What no one but us knows, though, is that the one they serve every other day won’t have the same magical punch to it that this one does.
Tilly and Tara fill cups and hand them out, and I swear, I can hear Tilly talking about the Pussy Palace all the way from my front door.
The woman is incorrigible, and I don’t think any of us would have it any other way.
“Don’t fret,” Ivy tells me, looping an arm around my waist and giving me a squeeze. “This is going to work.” She blows on her own cup, then drains it, dropping the empty paper vessel in one of the nearby trash bags we made sure to line the street with for our so-called Ghoulfriends Walk.
“This potion is actually really good,” Rose muses, apparently savoring hers. “Usually they taste like shit.”
“Oh, have you made a habit of tasting shit, then?” Posey asks drily.
“Shut up,” Rose tells her, grinning.
I take a shaky breath and drink mine down to the last drop. It’s spicy, which, while not a surprise, considering I brewed it, isn’t necessarily my favorite taste.
The compulsion Ivy cast on the whole batch means that everyone who’s handed a cup will want to drink the whole thing.
“I’ve definitely drank worse things,” I finally say, giving the sisters a weak grin.
“I seem to remember you drinking a certain questionable trash can punch in college,” Ivy says airily, and Posey snickers.
Em pushes her way to the front of the crowd, holding a megaphone up to her lips and pointing at the four of us.
That’s the signal.
Here we go.
“Welcome to the first annual New Hopewell Fall Festival Kick-Off Ghoulfriends Walk!” she says, voice amplified by the megaphone (which she seemed all too excited to use) and a cheer goes up from the crowd.
My hands tremble as I watch the witch-hat-clad group seemingly finish their drinks as one.
I don’t like that.
“Creepy,” Rose murmurs.
“Oh, stop it.” Ivy swats at her sister. “It’s fine. It’s just the compulsion spell.”
“Yeah, and it’s creepy as hell,” Posey adds.
“It is necessary. We need everyone to have taken the potion.” She glares at Posey, then Rose, who holds her hands up in mock surrender.
“It will protect them, and it adds power to the whole thing.” She exhales noisily in frustration.
“You already know this, I don’t know why I’m bothering to explain it again. ”
I nudge her with my shoulder. “Because we’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” she yells.
Right.
Rose gives me a meaningful look.
“She’s never nervous.” Posey laces her fingers together and stretches them out in front of her, then stoops to pick up the weird little gadget she made. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Literally,” Rose says.
The three Romantic sisters look at me. “Ready?”
I raise my chin and take a deep breath, Prudence winding around my ankles.
“I’m ready.”
I kind of have to be ready, at this point.
It’s now or never. I rub my hands together, hope blossoming when Aiden makes eye contact with me through the crowd.
“Let’s banish us some ghosts.”