“She looks adorable. I put her costume on her already.” I can tell Abby is smiling when she talks, and for the first time, I get it. I get that unfaltering love for your child…which makes me even more terrified that as soon as mine is born, Lucifer is going to show up and say she belongs to him.
It causes a knot to form in my stomach and a general feeling of unease to creep down on me, causing sweat to break out along my brow. I suck in air and slowly let it out. “I’ll see you guys soon then.”
“We’re going to leave in just a minute. If traffic isn’t bad, I’ll see you soon!”
“Okay, drive safe, bye!” I end the call and force myself to take another few deep breaths. I’ve been tapping into my angel powers more lately, am rather hormonal, and lose control when I get upset. I don’t want to blow up my car or something.
Cranking up the music, I sing along to Taylor Swift and feel almost calm by the time I get to the store. The roads will be blocked off soon, and any cars parked along Main Street will be stuck there until the party officially ends sometime after midnight tonight. Needing to leave after passing out candy so I can go to the Feast of the Blood Moon, I park a block over and walk to the store.
The energy from the full moon buzzes all around me, and I take a minute to look up at the cloudless sky, taking it all in. I left my crystals on the porch, ready to absorb the moonlight, and I’m going to set out a jar of fresh water tonight right before I leave for the feast to do the same. You never know when charged moon water could come in handy.
The little bell rings above the door as I enter the store and seeing it full of people in costumes makes my heart happy. We always host a friendly little costume challenge, where people dress like a character from their favorite book, come in and pose for a picture, which we then post on the store’s social media sites. People can vote for the best costume, and the winner gets a thirty-dollar gift card to use at the store.
“You are rocking that red hair!” I tell Betty, who’s dressed like Sansa Stark from Game of Thrones.
“Thanks! It makes me want to dye mine red for real, but I’m way too scared.”
“Well, it looks great on you.”
She beams. “Thanks again, and you look amazing! You were seriously born to be Wonder Woman. Please tell me Lucas is dressing up as Superman.”
“I wish. The costume I ordered for him didn’t fit, and we didn’t have time to return it and get another. He’s still coming, though, once the sun sets.” I stash my purse under the counter and look out at the busy store. “Have we had a good crowd all day?”
“Yeah, we’ve been super busy! I’ve hardly even seen Kristy in the last hour. She’s been taking photos nonstop, and I think almost everyone who participated in the costume contest has bought at least one book.”
“Yay! I love hearing that. Do you want to take a break? I’ll man the register.”
“I’ve had to pee for the last forty-five minutes, so yes.”
“Go. I got this.”
“Thanks.” She hurries away, and a line of customers forms at the register. I talk with some of our regulars, who have of course noticed I haven’t been working as much lately. I say I’ve been busy with the new house, and it seems to be a good enough excuse as any, though the nons in town have noticed by now that no expenses have been spared at the estate and are starting to gossip how I married rich and don’t need to work anymore.
Which is one hundred percent true. If Lucas didn’t have money, not working wouldn’t be an option, but I’m not giving up my hours at the store so I can be a trophy wife. I know it, my friends know it, and of course Lucas knows it. As for everyone in town…I don’t really care what they think. They already suspect a good number of us have more than meets the eye going on. If having someone think I’m staying at home drinking mimosas in my designer bathrobe while my rich husband does all the work…well, I kind of like the sound of that, so I’m not even going to attempt to change their mind.
“Damn, girl!” Kristy coos, walking to the front of the store. “You look hot!”
“You do too, even though I can only see your face. It’s a very pretty face,” I tell her. She’s wearing a floor-length red robe with a white hat. “And I love the Handmaid’s Tale.”