Page 84 of Welcome to Blackbird Hollow
The forest clearingis awash in firelight, staining the edges of everything in a golden-orange hue that feels like comfortdistilled. I keep my arm linked with Fallon’s as we make our way up the hill, leaving her Jeep behind in the meadow. Fern races down the hill toward us, yipping happily, though she’s strangely polite about not jumping on our dresses, instead settling for running in laps around us.
Leaves crunch underfoot and the air smells crisp, laced with woodsmoke. An old hip-hop song I don’t recognize rises on the wind as we grow closer, the scent of hot apple cider filling my nose. String lights swing from the tree branches that lean in low over the clearing, illuminating the pixies flitting through the air. As we draw closer to the bonfire, I can just make out a few nymphs dancing on the far side of the meadow. The moment I look at Them directly, the beautiful creatures are gone, leaving only the weathered trunks of ancient trees in Their place, but I can hear Their bell-like laughter echoing through the night.
“Welcome to your first Hallows, Alice,” Wanda greets us, breaking away from the crowd to offer me and Fallon mugs of cider. I take one, gratefully wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic. I’m glad Fallon insisted I grab a leather jacket from Wyatt’s old room. I’m not sure how great it goes with the dress, but she insisted the overall look was veryBuffy.
“Thanks,” I say to Wanda. “Hope it’s the first of many.” I peer around her shoulder, telling myself I’m not looking for Wyatt. “I have to talk to the tribe if I wanna stay here, right?”
Fallon laughs next to me as Wanda smiles, arching one brow as she glances behind her to where Chief Kingbird and Marion appear to be passionately—and very drunkenly—playing a game of Jenga on a plastic table. “You do, yes,” Wanda replies, turning to meet my gaze. “But I think you’ll be just fine.”
Warmth floods me despite the evening’s chill, and I nod happily, taking a long pull of the cider. It’s perfect. I wonder if it’s coven-made, too, in that well-seasoned cauldron that makes everything else of theirs I’ve had taste so goddamn good.
“We’re gonna go find Wyatt,” Fallon says to Wanda, shooting me a sly smile. “But we’ll catch up later, yeah?”
The tall witch goes still, her features slack. Her mouth parts slightly, but no words come out as a pale wispiness floods her eyes. Panic clutches at my throat as Fallon’s fingers wrap around my wrist. “Just root work,” she explains in a low whisper. “Sometimes spirits are demanding.”
I nod, remembering that Wanda had done the same thing last night, even though it feels like a thousand years ago. We don’t have to wait long. Wanda’s eyes clear a few seconds later, her attention settling on me.
“I normally only speak with my own ancestors,” she tells me, examining my face, “but I just had two very polite white folks ask if I could tell their granddaughter how proud they are of her.”
For a moment, I don’t understand, and I probably stare at Wanda like an absolute idiot. “Your Nan and Poppop,” she says softly, reaching out to place a hand on my shoulder. “Grace and Ron, right?”
Emotion closes my throat off, and I fight to find the right words.
“Oh, you’re definitely gonna ruin her makeup,” Fallon quips from beside me, shooting Wanda a playful glare.
“They’re…my grandparents arehere?” I manage to ask, voice quivering.
“Of course,” Wanda says with a gentle smile. “The ancestors are always with us. Yours are very, very proud of you, Alice, and love you dearly.”
“Thank you,” I manage, my voice small and worn. “Thank you, Wanda.”
The witch pulls me into a tight hug, smelling of vanilla and brown sugar and spice, and I probably would’ve burst into tears if I didn’t catch sight of a familiar face.
“There she is,” Wyatt says as Wanda and I pull apart. His smile is wide and dazzling beneath the brim of his flat cap. He’s dressed in shades of green—an olive blazer with a brown-and-moss plaid vest layered beneath and army-green corduroy pants. A red bandana is tied around his neck, drawing attention to his stupidly perfect face.
“Why do you look like a little boy about to go work on the railroad?” Fallon demands, glancing at Wyatt with a frown.
Wanda cackles with laughter, squeezing my shoulder one more time before Janey appears, pulling the witch into a dance around the bonfire. Wyatt glances at me with a mischievous smile and then looks at his sister with a shrug.
“Barnes picked it out,” he says pointedly.
“Barnes?!” Fallon echoes as she raises her chin, clearly searching the Hallows partygoers for the impeccably dressed, soft-spoken man. “Well, I guess even the best strike out now and again.” Then she smiles, gesturing to me. “In more important news, do you see how beautiful Alice looks tonight?”
I’ve literally slept with this man twice—three times, if you count this morning—but I still feel myself turn red when his gaze sweeps back to me. It’s all smoldering heat and something not unlike adoration. “Yes,” Wyatt replies, a murmur from the back of his throat, rich as a crackling bonfire. “Yes, Alice, you look beautiful. Just like always.”
“Gross,” Fallon says, even though I can see her smile. “Alright, I’m getting out of here before you two start making out.”
Wyatt tips the brim of his cap at Fallon as she strolls away, a vision in pale blue and glimmering gold thread. Then he steps close, sliding his hands around my waist.
“Thanks for Mr. Rabbit,” I tell him, tipping my head back to look up into his eyes.
“Did you like his sweater?” he asks playfully, resting his forehead against mine.
“I loved it,” I reply, our lips brushing. “I want one in my size.”
“That can be arranged,” he replies, pulling me against him.
I arch into him, sliding my hands up to grip the lapels of his jacket. Then his mouth is on mine, and I lose myself to it—to this tender thing blooming between us, to the glorious bonfire surrounded by people I can easily imagine myself loving, to the nymphs in the tree line and even the pixies flitting through the air like fireflies.
