Page 43 of Monsters' Manor

“Maybe.”

“You should come,” he says, still with that earnestness in his voice. “You know you’re more than welcome.”

The way he says it, the idea that I could join in the fun, hang out with the beings I work alongside every day, talk and laugh and…

“I’ll think about it,” I say softly, and it seems to be good enough for him as he catches my hand and gives it a quick squeeze.

“Alright, Rosie. You do that.”

The bonfire burns brightly in the crisp October night as I make my way down the hill from the Acres to the clearing in the woods where the revelry is already in full swing.

Monsters and witches apparently know how to throw one hell of a party.

Besides the massive fire in the center of the clearing, the space is lit by hanging orbs of witchlight bobbing merrily over the partygoers. There’s a huge table filled with food and another laid out with beverages—strong ones, if the boisterous laughter and conversation filling the air are any indication.

There’s also a trio of fiddlers—a vampire, a witch, and Howard the gargoyle—set up on tree-stump seats and playing a lively tune to serenade the party.

Still feeling hesitant to jump right into the fray, I hang around the outskirts of it all, passing up the drinks in favor of simply letting the magick of the evening wash over me. It’s bubbly, buoyant, joyful, and I can’t stop the smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth as I take it all in.

My eyes skate over the crowd, along the shadows at the forest’s edge, but even without looking I know Silas isn’t here.

I can’t feel him. Not like I’ve been able to the last couple of times he’s shown up on my doorstep.

I’ve spent two more nights with Silas since that first time. He always comes to me late, long past the midnight hour, when the dark magick of him on the other side of my door calls me to him like a magnet. Each time between us is better, a dance of shadows and pleasure, of starlight and flame.

But he’s also always gone in the morning, and we haven’t talked about what any of it means. We haven’t talked about the fact that I’m still not showing any signs of being his anchor, or that he’s interested in pursuing anything more than a quick autumn fling. And with the question of whether or not I’m staying at the Acres and what exactly I’m doing with Renwick still swirling somewhere just outside it all, for now it seems we’re just going to keep things as they are.

No expectations, no commitments, and I don’t know if that makes me grateful or guilty as I simultaneously scan the crowd for Renwick.

“Rose.”

A voice from behind me draws my attention, and I turn to find Mira approaching.

She’s wearing a long, flowy dress as black as her raven hair, and smiling softly as she comes to stand beside me.

“I’m glad you could make it.”

I return her smile. “I am, too.”

“I didn’t know if you would after… well, I just wasn’t sure if you would.”

“After that super encouraging tarot reading you gave me?”

She laughs, and her smile turns a bit sheepish. “I wish we’d had more time to dive into it.”

“So you could have explained how bad it really was?”

Mira shakes her head. “There are no bad readings. And no bad cards. There are only challenges and all the different ways spirit supports us through them.”

I consider that for a moment. I’ve never been much of a student of the tarot, but when she puts it that way…

“So I’m not cursed, then?”

“Definitely not cursed. Just at a crossroads, if I can presume to ask?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

Mira makes a soft noise of understanding as she thinks that over. “You might be surprised how spirit—or the universe, or the Goddess, whoever you believe governs such things—shows up to hold and support you at those crossroads.”

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