Page 32 of Salem’s Rise
“Monday.” She cuts me off, her smile warm but strained. “Come to my office in the afternoon. We’ll speak more then.”
By the time Rowan’s Porsche curves back toward downtown, night has settled over Salem’s Fall. Everything looks different after dark. Not quieter, exactly. If anything, the streets are more crowded, but darkness changes the shape of everything.
The colonial buildings lean closer beneath strings of warm golden-orange lights. Shop windows glow with candles and carved jack-o’-lantern pumpkins. Shadows gather in the narrow alleys between storefronts, deep enough to hide almost anything.
I rest my head against the expensive leather seats of his car and watch the old gas lamps and streetlights flicker between buildings. “I can’t wait to crawl into bed,” I say with a big yawn, stretching my arms overhead. “I’m exhausted.”
“That’s unfortunate.” Rowan glances over. “You promised me a drink, remember?”
“I promised you nothing. I agreed to come with you to see Bea.”
“You asked me to take you to Bea.” He smiles, one hand loose on the steering wheel. “I drove you across town in a luxury vehicle and endured an hour of Beatrice Endicott’s ridiculous stories while she did her best to malign my esteemed ancestors as some kind of Kalabar-level villains.”
“Kalabar, huh?” I ask. “Didn’t peg you as a Halloweentown fan.”
“Oh yes. It’s required watching for all Salem’s Fall residents.”
I try not to laugh and fail miserably.
“I’m sorry, Jack, but I really must insist.” He slows at a light, and the glow from the dashboard sharpens the handsome line of his profile. His smile deepens as he looks over at me. “As one of the original founding family sons, it’s my solemn duty to take you to your first Salem’s Fall Equinox celebration.”
“And what exactly are they celebrating?”
“The first night of autumn is a big deal around here,” he says. “You’ve got the harvest. The shortening of days. And, of course, the thickening of everyone’s pockets in town. Take your pick. And depending on what you believe, it also signals the time of year when the spirits of the dead begin finding their way back to the living.”
“Meaning?”
“The equinox opens the first crack in the year,” he says, driving down a narrow road that leads toward the harbor. “The most restless spirits come through at the beginning.”
“So the town’s throwing a party to welcome its ghosts home?”
“Just the first wave.” His eyes flick toward me. “The crack stays open all the way until the Winter Solstice. Then the dead return to where they belong.”
My stomach tightens as I turn toward Rowan.
“You really don’t know anything about this whole Veil thing? Bea made it seem like your family was connected.”
“My family has been connected to everything in this town at one point or another.”
I sink farther into the seat. “That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
He gives me a sideways smile that is equal parts charming and irritating. The problem with this guy is that he’s way too practiced. Too polished. He knows all the right things to say and when to say them.
But maybe…
What if he’ll ease up after a few drinks? Let his guard down a little. Say something he’s not supposed to. It’s worth a shot.
Besides, it probably wouldn’t kill me to have a little fun while I’m stuck in this town.
“Fine. One drink,” I say. “And this isn’t a date.”
He parks near the waterfront, where old brick warehouses have been converted into restaurants and bars. Beyond them, the harbor stretches beneath the rising moon, its bluish-black water shifting darkly against the old docks, looking cold and impossibly deep.
We make our way down the cobblestone walkway, and the cool sea air sends a shiver through me. It had been warm enough earlier that I hadn’t bothered bringing a sweater or jacket to class, but now, with the sun gone and the harbor breeze picking up, I’m regretting the decision.
“Here,” he says, shrugging off his lacrosse jacket and draping it over my shoulders as we walk under a banner proudly announcing the “DTSF Fall Equinox Celebration” this weekend.
