It’s a strange feeling. It’s been just me, my parents, and Liam for the last few months, and even before that, I’d never been great at making friends. But Anna said she’d help me see this through, and somehow, I know she won’t back down. I have at least one person in my corner.

I can tell by the expressions on the faces of Roy, Elaine, Gran, and the twins that they’re in, too, but they all wait for Nora. She has a look that my mother used to get whenever I tried something new, like riding a bike. As if she can’t bear to watch me fall but knows there’s nothing she can do.

Finally, Nora visibly relents. “All right.”

I nod as the severity of the situation hits home. This isn’t some training exercise with Elaine and Roy in the backyard; this is real. People’s lives will be at stake. My life will be at stake, and I’ll have to rely on every trick and ounce of magic I’ve learned to win.

“We can do this,” I say. “All of us, together.”

And when Anna smiles at me, I know I’m right.

Chapter 22: Colin

We spend the morning of the party helping with last-minute decorations, which simultaneously feels pointless in the face of what’s to come tonight and keeps me from thinking too much about it. Most of the big things are already taken care of, but there are still a lot of smaller things to do, and everyone is pitching in, even Max, who changed the house’s hat to a black pointed witch’s hat.

We dodge a couple guests already dressed in their costumes for that night on our way to the kitchen. One wears a convincing vampire outfit, and their friend has on a werewolf costume that looks so similar to the one from Seamus’s shop that I watch them until they’re out of sight just in case.

We spot the Andrades in matching crow masks, and Dilara, Rose’s girlfriend, has come as a garden of flowers. Even Alice, the witch from the motel, has joined us. She wears only a simple black masquerade mask, but her skin is spelled with beautiful glowing tattoos, from tiny autumn leaves tumbling down her arms to a cup of tea with rising steam in the shape of ghosts.

The kitchen is alive with activity and Irish music. Every counter has something on it, from fresh-baked pumpkin pies to homemade marshmallows shaped as skeletons and Irish knots. Nora and Roy buzz from spot to spot, each wearing an apron that’s doing absolutely no good to protect their clothes. Rose stands by the island, pouring batter into pans.

Anna picks a cake off a plate and splits it in half, handing part to me. Delicious, orange-scented steam wafts out.