“No problem.” He shifted from one foot to the other, looking vaguely uncomfortable.
Maybe it was the button-up shirt and loafers he was wearing, instead of his usual T-shirts and Converse high-tops. No, we weren’t required to wear black dresses and black suits and all that, but it was a sign of respect to dress nicely at the funeral of a clan member. I had on a vaguely retro full-skirted dress I’d bought at one of the shops here in town, and had borrowed Aunt Rachel’s pumps again. We all looked pretty respectable — probably more respectable than an outsider would’ve expected a gathering of witches to be. Just more of that whole staying inconspicuous thing. You tend to attract more attention when everyone in your group looks like a refugee from a Stevie Nicks concert.
“So,” he went on, drawing out the syllable as if pondering what exactly to say next. “I guess you really are moving into Aunt Ruby’s house.”
“Yes,” I said shortly. “Next Monday, I guess.” A day I was really not looking forward to.
“Oh.” Then he brightened a little. “You know, Saturday is that Day of the Dead thing over in Sedona. I was thinking it might be, I don’t know, good to go to that. Say another goodbye to Great-Aunt Ruby.”
I’d completely forgotten about the festival. Halloween was two days before that, although I knew this year there wouldn’t be too much revelry amongst the McAllister clan. Of course there would be our usual Samhain observances on Halloween itself, another way of connecting with the dead, when the veil between the worlds was at its thinnest.
Now that I thought about it, though, going to the Day of the Dead celebration seemed like a good way to make my final farewells and honor my aunt before my life went through its own change. “We’ll have to take the bodyguards,” I warned Adam. “No way are they going to let me go to Sedona with just you.”
“Oh, I figured that. Maybe your aunt and Tobias, too, if they’re interested.”
The offer touched me. Clearly he was doing this because he thought it would help me, and not to seize some opportunity, however artificial, to get me alone. I didn’t know if Aunt Rachel would really be up to it, as the double shock of losing Ruby and me at roughly the same time had shaken her a good deal. There was still a sign on the front door of the shop that said “closed due to a death in the family.” I hadn’t yet gathered the courage to ask her if she intended to open up on Halloween, which tended to be a busy day even when it fell in the middle of the week.
“I’ll ask,” I said. “But Rachel’s taking the whole thing pretty hard. I’ll let you know.”
“Okay.” He reached out then and gave my hand a quick squeeze before heading off toward the refreshment table.
I wouldn’t let myself sigh. I had to look as if I were in control, no matter what. But it was hard not to wish, just a little, that things had been different, that Adam was my one. No, he didn’t set my heart on fire or anything, but he’d been supportive and friendly the past few days, and I knew I could trust him. It would have been a lot easier if he’d turned out to be the consort.
But of course nothing can ever be that easy.
9
Día de los Muertos
A full moon drifted overhead, surrounded by clouds that reflected its light, only more diffuse, cloudy and yellow. The wind was from the northeast, cold and biting. I tried not to think about where it was coming from, blowing down the passes from Flagstaff.
An ill wind….
I shook my head and made myself concentrate on the group around me. We always held our Samhain observance late, almost at midnight, long after all the shops and restaurants had closed. Yes, there were still some late-night partiers at the Spirit Room, but they would be otherwise occupied, and hopefully not noticing what we all were up to.
Well, not all. The McAllister contingent in Jerome numbered a little more than two hundred these days, and two hundred people gathering anywhere in a town that small was bound to get noticed. So a little more than half of us met in small groups in people’s homes, sharing their own versions of the rituals, celebrating the Goddess as Crone and the Horned Hunter.
But because November was the dead time, a month and more of darkness before Yule arrived and the world began to tilt once again toward the light, we always had the strongest witches and warlocks come together in one place to invoke the spirits of our ancestors, to ask for their guidance and their strength in helping to protect us against the forces of the dark. We met on the grounds of the building that had been the miner’s dormitory, once upon a time, mainly because it was enough out of the way that any tourists lingering at the Spirit Room wouldn’t be able to stumble upon us. They might see the lights of our candles and torches as they made their way back to their cars, but they wouldn’t be able to get to us. No visible barrier blocked the road that led to the dormitory, but anyone going that way would find their car’s engine suddenly sputtering and dying, or would suddenly be overwhelmed by the feeling that they needed to get out of there right now.