Page 40 of Halloween Town

“It’s quite a turnout,” Wren said, eyeing the crowd. “I’d say that ninety-five percent of the attendees are tourists.”

And nearly everyone looked a little uncomfortable, apart from the few people who’d managed to instigate conversation with someone from the opposite sex. Or the same sex.

Why were they even there? Thom sighed, a little envious of Luna’s power to get people to do what she wanted. He knew that Hayes was equally unenthusiastic, and turned his head to look at his friend, who was now sandwiched between a blonde and a brunette, both wearing skirts no bigger than a bandage. They had to be twenty-one—anyone younger couldn’t attend—but not by much.

“Go help Hayes,” Wren told him.

“Hayes is perfectly capable of fending for himself,” Thom said. In fact, Hayes could be brutally direct and would have no problem shedding the barnacles. He gave him a minute to shrug them off.

He felt the tap of feminine fingers on his shoulder, sighed, just managed to stop his eyeroll, and reluctantly turned to see a too-young face.

“Hey, I’m Carey. What’s your name, handsome? And can I have your number?”

Jesus. And really, could her dress be any shorter or any tighter?

Poppy

Poppy eyed the woman talking to Thom—was this number six or seven?—irritated by her playing with her hair and lifting her boobs. She turned her back on the stomach-churning spectacle. The last thing she wanted to do was flirt, closely followed by watching Thom flirt. She raised her beer bottle to her lips, took a sip, and clinked her bottle against Wren’s.

Dane, being the observant surgeon he was, picked up her thumb and examined the scar encircling the knuckle of her thumb. How he saw anything in the dim light, she had no idea. But then, Dane was used to crappy conditions from working at natural-disaster sites.

“That’s an old but nasty cut,” he commented. “What happened?”

Wren and Poppy exchanged smiles. “We were seven, maybe eight, and decided that a blood oath was the way to go. I think we got the idea from Hayes and Thom.”

Dane rolled his eyes. “Naturally.”

“Anyway, the knife slipped, and that was the result.”

“Stitches?” Dane asked.

“Quite a few. We ran to Thom, and he put me behind him on his bike and took me to Dr. Morris. Wren ran alongside the bike, and she cried longer and harder than I did,” Poppy explained, smiling at the memory. “It bled. A lot.”

“And you milked it dry,” Wren wryly added. “You had us all, Thom and me especially, running around you for weeks afterward. Me, because I was the reason you got cut, Thom because … well, you always had Thom wrapped around your over-developed baby finger.”

She had, but that had ended thirteen years ago. Now they were two people sharing a house, who barely spoke but who’d indulged in a scorching kiss.

A microphone screeched, and Poppy winced, putting a hand over one ear. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s two minutes to midnight, and the time has come,” Luna announced. Of course she was here. Luna loved being the center of attention.

It was time to go home. She was done. She knew Wren was done. Thom and Hayes looked fed up as well. None of them wanted to be here, but Luna was a bully, and none of them had a spine. Once the talking ended, Poppy would lead them out—and she wasn’t letting Luna push her around again.

Well, she tried not to be bullied. But Luna was a force difficult to resist.

Luna cleared her throat. “It’s so nice to welcome you to the historic Merriweather Theater.” She placed her hands together in prayer, the microphone between them, and bowed her head. “And we ask the goddess, and all deities concerned with love, to bless you tonight. May you all find what you are looking for.”

A touch dramatic, Luna…

“Or what they think you need.”

Yeah, yeah. Poppy usually had a high tolerance for woo-woo, but tonight, she was emotionally and physically whipped and not in the mood for it.

Luna cleared her throat. “I’m sure you’ve all noticed the white stickers on your lapels, and I’m here to explain. Each of you picked a circle completely at random, and on it is a description—maybe it says you’re here to hook up, seek commitment, or you’re interested in a friends-with-benefits arrangement. You might not agree with what’s on your sticker but remember—you chose it.”

Poppy looked down at her still blank sticker and frowned. What nonsense was this?

“But here’s the fun part: when your description is revealed, you need to find the people in the room with the same description! Whether or not you agree with what’s written is your conversation starter, and a great way to meet someone new.”

The room cheered, and a low hum of approval emanated from the crowd. Poppy’s eyebrows lifted. It was, she supposed, a novel way to connect people and get them talking.