Chapter 21
Fallon
“Good morning and happy September nineteenth. We have a special guest here to kick off our Saturday morning. Milo Andrews, everyone.”—enter pre-recorded applause— “Milo, can you give us any insight as to what the heck is going on? First Mr. Gordon, then Jury Smith, and now our sweet, sweet, Beth Clayton …”
“I know, Freddy, it’s horrible. And with Mabon only two days away …”
“Is what you said true? All three died from heart attacks?”
“That’s what the reports say,” Milo confirmed.
“There has to be more, and I know a group of men who are capable of something like this.”
“Yeah, well, my job isn’t to spread rumors, Freddy. I came here to reiterate how important it is to stick to curfew, especially after our annual Weeping Hollow Movie Night tonight. The Rocky Horror Picture Show will start an hour earlier this year at eleven. Let’s have a good time tonight, witches.”
“There you have it, your Hollow Headlines, and remember,” Freddy started, then Milo joined in, “No one is safe after three AM.”
Gramps was still asleep when I’d entered his room this morning with our morning coffees. I didn’t want to wake him and left his coffee on his nightstand beside his teeth.
Last night was horrible.
As much as I didn’t want to, I’d pushed Julian away.
And as if that wasn’t enough, Gramps fever had spiked, and his coughs barreled up the stairs from the first floor, staggering to catch his breath. I’d freaked out and called Dr. Morley in the middle of the night because I didn’t know what else to do. Surprisingly, he had answered and hurried over.
I’d spent most of my night apologizing to Dr. Morley as Gramps yelled at him from the bed, pushing his stethoscope and medicines away. “Fallon, I have this. You go into the living room, try to get some rest,” Dr. Morley had said.
I’d gone into the living room but couldn’t lay down. Instead, I’d stayed up all night, waiting.
After an hour had passed, Dr. Morley came through Gramps’ bedroom door and stated the fever was down, and he was sound asleep. I’d dropped my head into my hands and cried. Maybe because I’d been mentally and physically and emotionally drained after the last few days. Maybe because I’d grown closer to Gramps faster than I thought. Maybe because I cared more about Julian than I thought I would have.
“I’m sorry,” I’d told him, running my hands over my face to erase my tears. “This is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”
“Caring for a loved one isn’t easy,” Dr. Morley had said, standing over the couch and looking down at me with a soft and sincere smile. “Just remember that you’re doing the best you can with what you’ve got. I’ll be on my way, but please call me anytime.”
Some song I’d never heard of before filled the speakers, pulling me from the memories of last night. I’d brought the radio outside so as not to wake Gramps, drinking my coffee on the back porch. The sunrise lifted over the endless sea, and I pulled the crossword puzzle over my lap. It felt wrong without Gramps at my side, but I plucked the pencil from behind my ear, determined to finish this for him because he couldn’t.
Beth Clayton wouldn’t be ready for me until tomorrow, so I stayed home and deep cleaned the house, opening all the windows to air out the musty smell, swept, vacuumed, dusted. Most of the rooms inside the house had turned into storage, so many boxes for me to dig into at my disposal, but I hardly had the time to dig into the past when my present was slipping away.
By noon, Gramps awakened, and I made us both lunch.
“Promise me, Moonshine,” Gramps begged from the bed. “Promise me, whatever happens, you’ll stay away from the Norse Woods Coven.”
“But you’re from Norse Woods, Gramps. Why would you say that?”
“Just promise me. As much as I hate to admit it, Sacred Sea will protect you once I … pass on.”
I didn’t promise. I didn’t—couldn’t—say the words. I only nodded.
Fable’s arm swung beside mine as we walked Town Square later that night.
A large screen stood over the greens near the gazebo. The residents were starting to roll in, carrying blankets and picnic baskets under their arms, in their hands. The Rocky Horror Picture Show would begin in about an hour, and Fable and I took off to get some drinks and popcorn.
“What … the …” Fable’s voice drifted with the September night. The line standing before the pop-up concession stand wrapped around the street, and she paused her steps and sighed dramatically beside me. Buttery popcorn, chocolate covered candies, and beer ciders juggled in the people’s hands and arms as they exited the concession. Fable stepped out in front of two boys who were passing by. They were younger than us, seventeen or eighteen. “I’ll give you a twenty for those Angry Orchards,” Fable lifted her head, and the boy looked over at me, considering her proposal, “I’m giving you double what you paid for, and we both know you have a kegger over there, little Wildes. Don’t be stupid, just take it.”
Little Wildes. Golden-flecks glittered his narrowed eyes under his wild, side-swept brown hair. He was tall, in a long white tee under a jean jacket and over a pair of ripped black jeans, handsome, and he smiled as if he held all the cards—always. “Forty, and they’re yours.”
“Forget it.” The two words had spilled out of my mouth, combined with an incredulous laugh. “It’s not worth it, Fable. He’s playin’ you.”
Fable rolled her eyes and looked back at the line once more, almost jumping in her sneakers. “Asshole.”
“Should have come prepared, sweetheart.” He shoved his hand inside the popcorn resting against his chest and popped the handful in his mouth as he walked off. A small group followed behind him.
“Who was that?”
“Annoying piece of shit. That was Wren Wildes, Phoenix’s little brother.”
Complaints and groans went off like a domino effect within the line waiting for the concession. I craned my neck, noticing Mina Mae inside the tent, gray hair falling from her braid and framing her face, pacing the stand and juggling the popcorn and drinks and exchanging money. She only had one helper keeping the popcorn flowing and filling drinks, but Mina, patting her forehead with a hand towel, looked as if she was going to pass out at any moment.
An idea popped into my head, and I took off for the tent.
“Where are you going?” Fable called out, then caught up beside me as I entered the concession stand and stood behind the counter. “Fallon,” she whispered, but I proceeded to pull an apron over my clothes, tying it behind my back. The sheer black sweater I wore was from The Row, and I didn’t want it stained. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
Mina Mae, in a black and white pinstripe apron, rushed past me. “Fallon, yah a darling. It’s about time someone helped out. Everyone wants to enjoy the events, but no one wants to do the dirty work.”
“Ten minutes,” I told Fable, waving over the next customer. “Let me get this line down,”—I leaned over when the customer rambled her order before sliding to the popcorn machine— “It’s better than waiting in line, and Mina will reward us. Won’t ya, Mina?”