Home for Halloween (Curvy for the Holidays Book 6) by Annabelle Winters

Author:Annabelle Winters [Winters, Annabelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rainshine
Published: 2020-11-01T16:00:00+00:00

7

VALERIE

I don’t feel like myself. I don’t even sound like myself.

I finish the soft lullaby I’d been singing to Molly without really meaning to do it. It’s a song I didn’t even know I knew. Even the words sounded like gibberish, like I was speaking in tongues. Or singing in tongues, I guess.

“Well, it seemed to work,” I say when I hear Molly snore like a little bearcub. She’s curled up at the foot of the green couch, her little toes digging into my soft thighs as I watch her. Again I get that warm but unsettling feeling like she’s mine, and I try to shake it off but can’t.

The fire pops and spits, startling me for a second. I glance at the red door near the fireplace. Vincent’s been down there a long time, it seems. I look at the moonfaced clock near the inside wall. It’s getting late. Soon Aunt Stella’s spell will start to affect the folks who’ve given up on Halloween, who’ve buried that childlike sense of wonder and awe, of magic and mystery. Stella and Raim and I would love to watch those folks wake up for one wonderful night and indulge in the innocence of childhood, but now the thought scares me when I remember how those zombies seemed to be pushing the boundaries between mischief and murder.

“We’re safe here, though,” I whisper to the sleeping Molly. She smiles dreamily and curls up tighter, and I look towards the pile of wool blankets neatly stacked by the loveseat. I carefully raise myself off the couch and select a soft blue blanket for Molly. I place it on her little body and fold it just beneath her chin. I sigh and smile, but then I sense movement behind me and I turn quickly.

“What were you doing down there so long?” I say when Vin’s broad body appears by the fireplace. He doesn’t answer, and I raise my eyebrows and wait. He looks different, it occurs to me. His hair is less wild, beard more trimmed. And is that a different cloak?

A chill rises up from the base of my spine when I see his eyes. I rub my own eyes, wondering if the flames are playing tricks. Or maybe it’s those trickster runes. They get into the Halloween spirit too. Shit, maybe they’re acting up because they know Aunt Stella and Uncle Raim are . . . gone.

I shut my eyes tight and swallow hard as I tell myself I’m not going to cry, that Aunt Stella and Uncle Raim aren’t dead, that grief is for the living, not the dead, that there’ll be plenty of time to feel sorry for myself later. I manage to stop myself from bawling, and I somehow force a smile and open my eyes.

And Vincent’s gone.

I frown and look left and right and here and there. I glance up at the ceiling, check the foyer, turn towards the kitchen. Nothing. Was I seeing things?

“I see you,” comes a whisper from behind my left ear, and I yelp and leap off the couch like I just sat on a needle.

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