Page 2 of Halloween Town

Everyone agreed that a merger between the two most influential families in Massachusetts was a flex, good for both sides. Poppy wasn’t so sure; she knew she wasn’t cut out to be a politician’s wife.

Or even Benji’s wife.

“Having cold feet on your wedding day is normal,” she told herself, speaking out loud to convince herself. “Everything will go back to normal soon.”

She’d been telling herself the same tired story for months, but nothing had changed. Would it ever? She and Benji barely saw each other these days, and they hadn’t had sex for, uh, how long? Weeks? And that raised the question: if he wasn’t getting it from her, who was he getting lucky with?

Because Benji liked sex. Benji liked sex a lot.

Poppy gripped the edge of the basin, astonished to realize that the thought of Benji having an affair didn’t shock her, nor did it hurt. She didn’t feel … well, anything. Not love, or jealousy, nor a smidgen of concern.

Shit. That was concerning. And a hell of a thing to figure out on your wedding day.

Poppy shook out her hands and hauled in some much-needed air.

You’re just having a bridal panic attack. Just breathe. All you have to do is breathe. And get through today. After today, everything will be better.

Would it, though?

Seeing that her veil was off-center, she adjusted it and frowned at the flicker of movement in the bathroom mirror. That was odd.

Poppy looked at the locked door and wondered what time it was. How much freedom remained? She looked at her phone… She had half an hour. Thirty minutes before she married Benji, became his wife … before they got the government involved and made it legal.

Lifting her eyes to look in the mirror, she frowned at the fog forming on the edges of the frame. The windows were open, there was a breeze blowing … and, oh, my God, what the fuck was a woman doing inside the mirror?

Poppy gripped the sides of the basin again, unable to wrench her eyes away. A sweet face, hair pulled back into a simple tail, huge eyes, and far too thin.

What the hell was she doing in her mirror? In her goddamn mirror!

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.

Look, she’d spent all her childhood summers, and a lot of her other school vacations, in a town that lived and breathed the paranormal and ghosts, and while she’d had a couple of encounters—seeing people out of the corner of her eye, waking up to someone standing at the end of her bed, cold patches in her grandparents’ inn—she’d never been face-to-face, eye to eye with … well … with an apparition before.

“Poppy, sweetheart … I hate to barge in without warning, but you’re running out of time.”

The apparition was talking to her? Poppy pinched the inside of her wrist and twisted her skin. Ow! She definitely wasn’t dreaming. Maybe she was having a stroke. Or a hallucinatory panic attack brought on by the stress of marrying Benji.

Just keep holding on to the basin; do not let your knees buckle. And do not, whatever you do, faint. Your mother will kill you if you crease your dress or muss your hair.

Poppy couldn’t take her eyes off the woman in the mirror. This was so fucking weird.

Then another female figure materialized in the mirror, and Poppy blinked. Leather jacket and pants, streaked eyeliner, teased bottle-blonde hair, a smoker’s mouth… This ghost looked like she’d walked straight out of a 1970s documentary on female bikers and hellraisers.

The biker ghost hip-bumped the other apparition. “Move over, cupcake. This requires some tough love⁠—”

“Ruby, for heaven’s sake, you can’t barge in and take over. We agreed that I’d persuade her—gently.”

“Gently won’t cut it. This one needs a swift boot to her ass.”

“Ohmigod, ohmigod, there’s two of you? What? Why—?” Poppy slapped her hand on her chest, her mouth wide open. “I’m having a breakdown, that’s the only explanation. It’s been a rough few months, too much stress, too little sleep. I haven’t eaten that much. Cried too much.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m Ruby, by the way.” Ruby jabbed a thumb at the more polite ghost. “She’s Naomi.”

Ruby pulled out a pack of cigarettes and tapped one out. “The point is, hon, you’re about to make a mistake you can’t undo. To put it plain, your fiancé is a douchebag asshole.”

Poppy felt like her head was about to explode.

“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” she muttered, unable to believe she was talking to two mirror-bound ghosts.