Master of the Moors by Kealan Patrick Burke

Author:Kealan Patrick Burke
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Necessary Evil Press
Published: 0100-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

15

Uncomfortably hot in her witch outfit, Tabitha nibbled on a piece of fruitcake and forced herself to relax a little. The dance had started almost an hour ago and as yet she had seen no sign of Neil. She prayed the inclement weather had kept him and Kate indoors. If it had, then there could be no comeback from Donald. After all, she didn't control the weather, so she couldn't be blamed for his plan---whatever it was---failing.

Still, fear gnawed at her. Something felt odd about the night. Everything in the hall looked the same as it did every year, albeit with a lot more people present than ever before; there were dancing ghouls, giggling goblins, crepe paper on the walls, plastic devils on the doors, and people enjoying themselves, but the air felt different somehow. Up until now she'd blamed the storm. The air always changed before thunder and lightning, but deep down she knew that she had snatched that convenient explanation only to keep from examining more closely the ominous feeling she'd had all day long.

Just nerves, she told herself. Considering she had allowed herself to be manipulated by her brother into setting up an innocent blind boy, she had every right to feel uneasy. She had nothing against Neil Mansfield. He had never done anything to her to warrant reprisal, had not threatened her honor with his forced sullen responses. Worse, she realized that if she was completely honest with herself, a little part of her did actually like him, and yes, in a romantic way. She had, however, quelled those feelings in the past because of pity---which she knew was unfair but couldn't help---and a little fear of her own. Fear of what it would be like to court someone who couldn't see, and fear of what people would think of her for doing so. Her father would certainly react with disdain that his 'little princess' couldn't summon the resources to find a boyfriend with a less obvious handicap.

The fruitcake hung like a knot in her stomach and she quickly scanned the small tables set out around the hall for something to drink. At last she settled on a glass of punch from a confetti-filled bowl, but the knot remained, like a manifestation of guilt.

"You'll need a little something stronger than that if your boyfriend doesn't show up soon," said a voice behind her and she turned to find Donald standing uncomfortably close, the burlap sack he'd come to the party dressed in scratching against her fingertips.

"I can't believe you're wearing that," she said disdainfully, indicating the fabric stretched taught around his midriff.

"I'm a sack of potatoes," he proclaimed with obvious pride. "Besides, I only look half as ridiculous as the rest of these idiots, and that includes you. What are you supposed to be anyway? A granny?"

"Leave me alone," she said and turned back to the table. A moment later, her hat was gone, snatched deftly from her head. Slowly, she turned. "Give it back."

Donald propped the tall witch's hat on his head and spread his hands expansively.

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