Page 32 of Flirty Fall Fling

The spirit box spits a burst of static and a clipped syllable that sounds like a woman’s voice. “Welcome.”

We both look at it.

“Hi, spirits,” Blaire says, then encourages me.

“Hello, spirits.” I play along.

Static rolls out of the box and breaks into another half-syllable, but it’s unintelligible. Then it transforms into a low hiss.

She props herself up on one elbow. The breeze blows through her hair as she pulls the second blanket across her lap. “Tell me something no one would guess about you.”

“I’ve been in Pine Haven for weeks, and it’s felt like a punishment. Until now.”

“Why? Why?!” the box screeches out.

Blaire points at it. “They asked, not me. But please feel free to answer.”

Because of you.

“I’ve been getting out more. Doing things I wouldn’t usually do,” I admit. It’s the truth.

The hiss from the box stays steady. Blaire nods, and I focus on the moon. It’s bright, almost blinding. Or maybe that’s the witches’ brew taking over. I can’t tell any longer because everything seems more intense.

“If you could have anything in the entire world, what would it be?” she asks.

“Truthfully?”

She nods.

“For someone to know me.”

Her brows relax as she reaches forward and squeezes my hand. “I hope you get that. Everyone deserves to be known and seen.”

The spirits stay silent, which I take as approval. The candles burn lower in their jars, and the cold comes up through the blanket. Blaire counts the stars. She points out constellations and galaxies. Her fingers trace invisible lines I lose track of while the hint of licorice still sits on the back of my tongue. I decide right then that I could listen to her all night. But that could be the shit swimming through my veins, messing with my head.

I don’t know how much time passes. It’s racing by but also going slow.

“Have you ever been in love?” I ask her.

“That’s not how this works,” she whispers into the night.

“Oh, come on.”

A pop of static comes from the box, followed by a woman’s voice. “Tell him NOW.”

“Traitors,” she mutters. She pulls the blanket tighter around her. “Yes. Once. It was a messy ending. Broke me into a million little pieces.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugs. “It’s okay. The moon’s nearly down. It’s time.”

From her pocket, she takes a length of black cord. She kneels in front of me and ties it around my left wrist, murmuring low words again while she pulls the knot snug. “The cord will pull the last shards of the curse’s grip from your soul. When the moon touches the ridge, we’ll cut it loose.”

We sit with that while the moon drifts. When its bottom edge meets the tree line, she snaps the cord off my wrist and drops it into the nearest jar, and the flame eats it. Blaire reaches inside her pocket and throws salt over the flame, and the spirit box answers with gibberish.

A breeze slides through the trees, making the leaves rustle on the ground, and then several candles blow out.

She sucks in a deep breath and then exhales. “It’s done.”