8. Grievance #3
Grievance barely glanced at them. Then he did a double take when he spotted the prizes.
Hanging from the back wall was a large black teddy bear with a white skull stitched over its face, mismatched buttons for eyes, and a fat white pumpkin clutched between its paws.
“Can I take this one?” he asked.
Milo blinked at him. “You want to play?”
“Yeah, why not? Can’t be that hard.”
A grin spread across Milo’s face. “Oh, this I have to see.”
Grievance handed the attendant a coin and was given three little skulls.
“You know it’s probably rigged,” Milo said.
“I know.”
“That cauldron on the left just moved when that woman threw.”
“I saw.”
“And you still want to try?”
Grievance glanced toward the teddy bear again. “Absolutely I do.”
Grievance turned toward the cauldrons, weighing the first little ceramic skull in his palm. He lined up his shot and threw. The first skull missed.
Milo laughed, as did the skull now chatting from the ground.
Grievance narrowed his eyes at the offending cauldron. He understood its game now. This time, when the second skull left his hand and the cauldron darted sharply to the right, Grievance anticipated it, and the skull dropped straight inside.
Milo whooped beside him.
Grievance grinned. He needed three points to win, and his first miss left him no choice but to aim for the hardest target. The third cauldron was worth two points, but it darted in frantic circles, almost too fast to follow.
The skull left Grievance’s hand just as the cauldron jerked away. But he’d anticipated the movement. The tiny skull struck the rim, bounced once—then dropped inside. A bell shrieked overhead.
Milo grabbed Grievance’s arm. “You did it!”
“Of course I did.”
The attendant asked which prize he wanted, and Grievance pointed immediately.
“The bear.”
A moment later, the ridiculous thing was placed into his hands. Grievance turned and shoved it straight into Milo’s arms.
Milo caught it with an oof.
For a moment, he only stared down at it. Then up at Grievance. The festival lights reflected in his green eyes, and his smile changed—losing the teasing edge until it became something warm and unbearably soft.
“For me?”
Grievance scoffed. “No. For Pip to murder tomorrow.”
Milo burst out laughing and hugged the bear tightly against his chest.
“I love it.”
Grievance looked at his mate standing beneath the lanterns, clutching an oversized skull-faced teddy bear like it was precious. He decided he liked carnival games after all.
The music, which until then had been a decidedly human mix of Michael Jackson, nearly every song from The Nightmare Before Christmas, and more renditions of the Scooby-Doo theme than Grievance thought strictly necessary, began to fade.
A new note rang out.
And everything changed.
The first note was low and strange, drawn from an instrument Grievance couldn’t name. Its sound conjured images of empty ribcages. Another joined it, then another, weaving into something eerie and cobweb-covered.
Something felt rather than heard.
The bones of every living and dead thing seemed to recognize it, humming in answer like tuning forks struck by an unseen hand.
Conversations quieted. People began moving toward the square. A fiddle joined the melody. Then drums. Then some kind of eerie, warbling brass instrument whose notes seemed to crawl pleasantly along his spine.
The song was strange. Creepy. Fast. Happy. Perfectly Pumpkin Hollow.
“Come on!” Milo caught his hand.
Grievance let himself be dragged into the square. Magic hummed beneath his boots, unfamiliar at first, then settling into a rhythm. A dancing spell. The next beat struck, and Grievance’s right foot moved on its own. Around them, hundreds moved with him.
Step.
Step.
Turn.
Milo spun away. Grievance caught his hand.
The crowd separated into sweeping circles, coats and skirts and capes flaring beneath the jack-o’-lantern light.
Nobody needed to know the dance. The music knew it for them.
Magic whispered through Grievance’s muscles, suggesting each movement an instant before it came.
Forward.
Turn.
Catch.
Milo came flying back into his arms. He was laughing. Grievance laughed too.
They spun.
Separated.
Found each other again.
Around them, Pumpkin Hollow moved like one enormous living creature beneath a ceiling of orange fire. Grievance stopped thinking. He simply followed the pull of the magic woven into each drawn-out note.
Milo.
Especially Milo.
His mate’s curls bounced beneath his pointed hat. His cheeks were pink from dancing. His green eyes shone every time their gazes met. They must have looked ridiculous. Two fools grinning at one another like they had discovered love for the first time.
Perhaps Grievance had.
Perhaps he found it again every time Milo looked at him like that. Every time those green eyes softened just for him. Every time Milo reached for his hand without thinking, laughed against his shoulder, or said my mate like the words belonged together.
Perhaps that was what loving someone truly meant.
Not falling once, but falling over and over again, and never once wishing to be caught.
Another song began, and then another. By the end of the third, Milo was breathless as Grievance pulled him close, the witch’s hands coming to rest against his chest as Grievance wrapped both arms around his waist.
For a moment, they simply swayed beneath the floating lanterns while the rest of Pumpkin Hollow danced around them.
Then Milo rose onto his toes, his lips brushing Grievance’s ear.
“How about we get out of here?”
Grievance smiled, tightening his hold around his mate.
“I thought you’d never ask.”