Page 53 of Salem’s Rise

Rowan.

It has to be.

He knows I was worried about what to wear tonight. He also loves playing the hero and enjoys dramatic gestures enough to have a custom gown delivered without explanation. The absence of a note is strange, but he probably expects me to know it was him.

It’s also unbelievably presumptuous and shows a serious lack of boundaries. Who sends a woman a dress without asking? And how the hell does he even know my size? I should probably be offended. What does he think this is, some kind of fucked-up Cinderella story?

The sensible thing would be to send it back. But… I don’t want to. I have nothing remotely appropriate to wear tonight, and the dress is, without question, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned. If Rowan wants to play fairy godmother, who am I to stop him?

I put the gown on. It fits perfectly.

Campus is alive with Halloween excitement as I wait on the dorm steps for my Uber. Costumed students weave beneath strings of orange lights on their way to parties, while those dressed for the Blackhollow Ball climb into limousines and chauffeured cars. Rowan had a few things to take care of, so we agreed to meet there.

The black cat appears before my rideshare car does. He emerges from beneath a hedge and walks directly toward me, his tail held high. I’m glad to see him. It’s been a while, but he seems in good health.

I lean down to pet him, and he circles my ankles once and then trots several feet away toward the shadowed path behind the dorm. He looks back at me and mewls softly, like he wants me to follow.

“Sorry, boy. I have somewhere to be tonight.”

He pitter-patters back to me and then butts his head against my legs, as if trying to push me in the right direction.

“Another time,” I say, smoothing my hand over his soft fur as my car pulls up to the curb. “See you later, boy.”

He watches as I step into the car. Something about the way he stares after me makes my skin prickle, and I think again of the painting in Blackthorn Manor. Same black coat. Same bright yellow eyes. Silas said Lucky once belonged to his mother. A different cat that died a long time ago.

A sudden impulse comes over me. I feel ridiculous, but I call after the cat anyway.

“Lucky?”

The cat turns.

For one strange second, he looks directly at me, but then he trots away, disappearing back into the hedges before I can think too much about it.

A short ride later, my Uber pulls up to Strega’s Hollow. Luxury cars line up behind us—Rolls-Royces, Bentleys, Mercedes, and limousines—while valets hurry about, opening doors and greeting guests. An event photographer snaps photos as I climb out of my rideshare and head inside, suddenly feeling very out of place.

Tonight, Strega’s Hollow barely resembles the tourist attraction I visited with Rowan weeks ago. The entire museum has been transformed into a Halloween wonderland. Black silk drapes from the balconies while hundreds of amber candles burn in suspended glass globes above. All around me are towering arrangements of autumn flowers, their deep reds and burnt oranges threaded with decorative feathers and polished black branches.

As I make my way to the center of the room, costumed performers on stilts pass by, dressed as elaborate ravens and skeletal creatures, their enormous wings spreading overhead. A white-gloved server hands me a crystal flute of champagne while another offers me a tray of elaborate hors d’oeuvres. I take a tiny charcoal-black tartlet topped with whipped goat cheese and blood-orange jam and nearly moan when I bite into it. The whole thing is extravagant and over-the-top, like nothing I’ve ever seen before.

The floor beneath my feet begins vibrating as a string quartet on a raised platform launches into a rowdy rendition of “I Put a Spell on You” from Hocus Pocus. Lena spots me then, gripping Jonah’s arm and dragging him through the crowd to meet me.

“Oh my God! You look incredible,” she says, taking my hands and holding me at arm’s length. Her eyes travel down my dress and widen. “Okay, this is a masterpiece. Where did you get it?”

“It was delivered to my room.”

Her eyebrows rise. “Mysterious.”

Jonah studies the embroidery along one sleeve. “Looks expensive. Your secret admirer must have deep pockets.”

“Thank you, Jonah. What a romantic thought.” I smirk. “You guys look great.”

Lena wears a deep plum gown with a daring plunge neckline, a thigh-high slit, and structured shoulders that make the whole look feel powerful. She looks less like she’s attending a ball and more like she’s about to conquer a small village somewhere. Jonah’s rented tuxedo fits surprisingly well, though he looks uncomfortable wearing it.

“We do, don’t we?” Lena says with a grin and then gestures around us. “This party is insane, isn’t it? We’ve never been invited before.” She spins, laughing as her dress flares around her. “I can’t believe I’m really here.”

The dance floor is already full of couples swaying beneath glittering chandeliers. Just beyond the dancers, Lucien Blackhollow stands, holding court among university officials and elegant guests. He’s impeccably dressed in a formal black tuxedo with tails, somehow making everyone around him look underdressed while greeting people with the easy confidence of a man accustomed to being the most important person in every room. He appears to be alone. I remember Silas mentioning an aunt, but there’s no sign of her tonight.

Lena quietly points out some of the town’s most powerful families. Georgina’s parents stand beside Lucien, longtime Blackhollow family friends who, according to Lena, have been trying to marry their daughter into the family since birth. Next to them are Rowan’s parents, his mother sparkling beneath enough diamonds to bankroll a small nation. On the other side of the ballroom, Lena’s and Jonah’s parents sit together at a quiet table, far from Lucien’s inner circle.