Page 45 of Toadstools and Vampire Kisses

Now the fox spirit, having accepted the charge, will protect our home with all of his toadstools. Given that the original spore was a nasty piece of work, and I only tweaked it a little to redirect its purpose, the fairy ring is bound to be effective. I just need to place a marker over the stone over which to feed the fox’s spirit and he will be sure to protect us well for generations to come now that his presence has been recognized by my mother and the coven as a whole.

Not surprisingly, it has returned a certain amount of normality to the coven. There was some talk the day after about possibly canceling the Hallows’ Eve Witch’s Ball, but the coven as a whole had been nearly unanimous in its decision to continue with our yearly festivities. Typical of Durmont witches—no one is willing to be controlled by an unseen presence, though all agreed precautions would be taken. A handful of those from visiting covens decided to leave, but for the most part our plans have remained unchanged, the day passing with a certain weight of expectancy as everyone began making preparations for today.

All Hallows’ Eve.

The dramatic lighting that has been set up has created deep shadows while brightening other areas in a dim harvest orange light. Reynard hovers behind me clad completely in his finest black clothes, even a corset that had me staring and then nearly panting with interest when he slipped it on. I mean, my man has beautiful muscle definition, but everything cinching in just a little with the corset gives him sleek lines befitting a predatory creature. Unable to resist myself, I give him a once-over, sucking my lips in as I stare at the fit of his waistcoat. Reynard’s eyes flick down to me, catching me ogling him, and a smile curls his lips with masculine satisfaction.

Leaning in, I whisper, “You do realize I’m going to take great pleasure in pulling that thing off of you when I get you alone.”

“Liar,” he replies in an equally soft voice filled with humor. “You are going to want me to fuck you while wearing it.”

I shiver as he scores a direct hit. He isn’t wrong there.

“It’s a good thing that everyone knows that you are mine. I would hate for the plants to suddenly pull them off into the forest for a few hours… or an accidental contraction of a fungal infection,” I add with a smirk. “The way you look tonight is a terrible temptation to even the most rational person.”

He chuckles, the delicious rumbling sound sending a tingling sensation skittering over me. “You flatter me and scare me, mate. That is impressive considering how many centuries I spent facing some of the worst monsters among my kind. But the sentiment is mutual. A male would suffer an unfortunate maiming if he dared to approach my mate, no matter how exquisite she looks tonight.”

“Coming off as a slightly possessive beast there, Reynard… I approve.” I laugh as I smooth out the full, glittering black skirt of my dress. “We both know how much I enjoy beasts.”

“I suppose that I am doomed to play second fiddle to the original Beast,” he comments, his eyebrows raising over the half-mask he wears.

“Shh, don’t tell him,” I whisper, “but he takes a close second place. You are my favorite.”

His smile widens, stealing my breath way even if the mask he wears conceals too much of his face. Not that it does much more than that. His mask does little to lend the sense of anonymity of spirits of witches dancing among us this night as it is intended to do, but then that is impossible with his coloring and the enormous wings folded behind him. With my hair confined behind a black veil and my own half-mask, I feel more like a ghost at his side than the beauty he seems to think of me. But that is the whole idea of this dance. The Sorceress’ dance was the opportunity of the men and women of the coven to shine as beautiful, powerful witches. This dance is supposed to be a dance of shadows. Reynard can’t help that he doesn’t blend in like everyone else.

“Shall we?” With a small bow, he offers me his hand and I slip my fingers into it, thrilling at the light scrape of his claws when it closes around mine, and he draws me into the ballroom.

Black gowns that glitter and possess an abundance of dark lace swirl about the dancing figures in the center of the room. Those who mingle and socialize along the outskirts appear truly wraithlike in their dark attire, shawls, and veils. Reynard frowns a little, his jaw tightening with what almost appears to be distress as he glances around.

“The way everyone is dressed…” he murmurs.

I nod in understanding. “It can be powerful when you first see it. All Hallows’ Eve begins the days of the dead. We invite our ancestors to attend with us, removing the most visible signs of life. We are all shades here, united with every witch of our line who has come before us.” His expression grows more troubled, and I gently squeeze his hand. “Hey, is everything okay?”

Reynard’s gaze shifts to me, and he gives me a tight smile. “Yes, of course. I just was not prepared. In my past, there are dead who are meant to remain that way.”

I contemplate the ghostly gathering of my coven. I can’t imagine not wishing the beloved dead to return, but with a past as long and dark as his, I suppose there would be faces that I would be disturbed to see in his position.

“We do not have to stay. We can have our own little private Hallows’ Eve party.” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively, but he shakes his head, his mouth tugging upward with an affectionate smile.

“As much as I would love to celebrate Hallows’ Eve privately with you, we must do this. I will not be able to help anyone if something happens and I am unaware of it. I will be fine. Besides,” he says, spinning me into his arms, “I want everyone to see how beautiful my mate is.”

“I recall you threatening violence on anyone who came near me just a few minutes ago,” I tease as I lean into his lead, the steps carrying us among the whirling skirts of the other dancers.

His eyes gleam with a wicked humor as he spins us around into a series of steps that are completely unfamiliar to me and have me gasping with laughter as I struggle to keep up.

“Yes, well, as long as they do not look too hard while they are busy admiring your beauty, they may retain the use of their eyes.”

“Very generous of you.”

“I thought so.” He leans down, pressing his cheek against mine as the music shifts to something slower that makes me think of souls awakening from their rest and rising from their tombs with its low, drawn-out notes. “I find that I am a jealous male when it comes to my mate. You, Fran, are far too precious to me. What you do to me is dangerous. These feelings you bring to life in me and the hope that you give me where never there has been any make any chance for separation unbearable.”

“Don’t worry. That isn’t happening,” I reply, my heart in my throat. This is all too soon, but it is so very right. “I’m right here.”

His fangs flash with his grin, and he draws me closer. And I know without a doubt that this is exactly where I want to be, my body and spirit moving with his as if there is nothing else. Just this dance and us moving to a rhythm that speaks of all things that have been and everything that awaits and has yet to come as the music shifts from one song to another.

Oddly, I am not tiring at all nor do I wish to stop, not even to catch my breath or to visit among my family and my extended family through the coven as I normally might as we murmur the names of those who have gone before in greeting. I can hear them distantly beneath the music, the whisper of voices talking quietly within the hush of the ball. I don’t bother to listen. I feel like I’m caught in an enchanted dance with Reynard from which there is no escape, one which I have no desire to leave, because in this moment everything makes sense. Everything is perfect.

In this dance, I have a taste of what a future with Reynard could be like as his body shelters mine, leading me through the steps while giving me room to find joy in it, both of us adding our own individuality as we create something beautiful together. Here, we are spun together with the magic of the music in a web that keeps moving round and round with each in accord in our longing. Here, the melody itself flows around us as if endless, a trickle of time as years, decades, and ages pass, and those dancing around us draw back from my awareness as if they are nothing more than the shadows of specters that they resemble, my family blending together as one for all the births celebrated over the centuries to come.

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