But even when she flew away, something nagged at me, gentle and soft, like the pull of a toddler on my cloak. Some strange fragrance was circling through the town that I hadn’t noticed before, an odor of smoke and wet cut wood. Those two smells didn’t go together. Most likely it was some game or activity the humans were engaged in, some part of their holiday celebration.
Wet wood doesn’t burn. Only humans would be that foolish.
Chapter 51
To Be Human
Elspeth:
A mask clung to my face, held in place by a thin rubber string that stretched around the back of my head. I peered through almond-shaped openings, every breath stained with the heavy stench of plastic and my own sweat. Jake took my arm as I climbed the stairs. My balance, my sense of smell, my vision, everything was off.
But I was having so much fun.
Somewhere along the way, we had merged with another group, all younger children, all dressed as comic-book heroes, and now we converged on a long, narrow porch.
Waiting for the door to open.
This is what it’s like, I thought. To be human. You never sneak into someone’s home or trick them into inviting you inside. You stand outside and politely knock until they answer. And then—no enchantments involved—if they want to, they might let you inside. Although tonight was different. Tonight, if the homeowners didn’t open the door and offer candy, which I had already discovered was sinfully delicious, then they might have to pay a price.
Earlier, Jake and I and two of the younger boys had strung toilet paper through the branches of the trees when a homeowner refused to open his door. Now the paper hung like soggy garlands, ripping in places where the snow had fallen.
“Open your bag,” Jake reminded me, giving me a gentle nudge toward the door. It stood open now, revealing an elderly woman with bowed stance. She raked withered fingers through a basket that crinkled with colorful bits of cellophane. “It’s Miss Ballard. She gives out homemade fudge. See if you can get two pieces.”
I stumbled forward. I could smell the unanswered dreams of a lifetime wafting from the woman—the husband and children that she never had, the holidays spent alone, the cat that died two months ago from feline leukemia. Tabby.
Sorrow poured from the woman as she reached into her basket and pulled out a carefully wrapped piece of candy, then dropped it into my bag. At that moment, I lowered my mask, leaned forward and touched her hand.
“I’m sorry about Tabby,” I whispered.
Tears formed in Miss Ballard’s eyes. She nodded. “Me too.” Then she reached into the basket and slipped a second piece of candy in my bag.
“No, I don’t—”
“Maybe you don’t want it, but he does,” the old woman said, looking at Jake with a grin. “He always tries to get more. Every year since he was four years old.”
“Now, Miss Ballard, don’t go making fun of me,” Jake said. “You know you make the best fudge in the world.”
“In the universe,” she corrected him with a wag of her finger. “Here.” She handed him two squares, neatly wrapped in pink cellophane. “And don’t you forget our deal.”
“I won’t.” He peeled back the plastic and took a bite as we shuffled down the stairs behind a steady line of trick-or-treaters.
“What’s your deal?” I asked as I stuffed my hands in my pockets, pretending that I needed to stay warm. His first piece of fudge was already gone.
“She gives me two pieces of fudge and I shovel her walk ’til spring.”
“Is it a good trade?”
“For sure.” He glanced at the rest of their group. Hunter was showing off for some teenage girls, taking sips from a flask he kept tucked inside his coat. “By the way, you need to fix your tattoo before we get to the next house.”
A small wave of panic thundered in my gut. “What do you mean?”
He leaned nearer so no one else could hear. “It’s supposed to be on your left hand, but when you just held your bag open, it was on your right hand. I don’t think anyone else noticed—”
“That’s—that’s just silly. Tattoos don’t move.”
“I know.” He was staring into my eyes now, making it hard for me to concentrate. “So either put it back where it was or here.” He pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket and handed them to me. “Put these on and it won’t matter. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
I took the gloves and slid them on. He was right, I had accidentally switched the tattoo from one hand to the other. I swallowed nervously, then glanced over at Hunter. He was turning mean now, shoving another boy and swearing.
“He didn’t see anything,” Jake said.
“Didn’t see what?” Hunter staggered back toward us then, a roguish look in his eyes.
I wanted to cast a Veil and escape, but at the same time, I didn’t want to leave Jake. No boy back home had ever walked this close to me before or talked to me like he did.
“This,” Jake said then and he leaned down and kissed me on the cheek.
“Oh, ho! So that’s how it is!” Hunter said.
I flushed and lost control of my disguise. I could feel my skin darkening, heat spreading down my body. The snow around us began to melt and Jake’s eyes widened slightly—but only a tiny bit. It was as if he already knew what I was.