As the night wore on, Morgan did her best to put on a good face for the city leaders. But without Adam there and no word from him, it was hard.

The dinner went off without a hitch. Except there was no chandelier. There was no time to get it ready, so she’d chucked it out on in the burn pile with the rest of the museum’s yard trash. Maybe they could use it for kindling for the bonfire later.

After the dinner was completed and the banquet table cleaned up and hauled away, the grounds were open to the public. Despite the fact that there were no parking lots on the property, and everyone had to park along the highway and walk the rest of the way, there was quite a crowd. Still, no Adam. The band struck up some dance music and the bar was open, accepting tips to be donated to the museum. Morgan went and got herself a tequila and lime juice. Why not get hammered and try not to think about being alone? Tonight of all nights, the most auspicious Samhain she could remember.

Down in the meadow where the bonfire was beginning to take shape, some of the Sisters were teaching divination games. Fern was showing the children how to carve names into hazelnuts. Keeping them at a safe distance, she showed them that by naming the nuts and placing them near the fire, they could determine if two people were a match. If they stayed together near the fire, it was a match. If one of the nuts jumped because of the heat, it was not a match. The children seemed delighted with the idea. When Fern saw Morgan walking by with her drink, she called out. “Perfect timing! Hey, kids, who wants to see if Ms. Morgan’s hazelnut and Detective Corey’s hazelnut are a match?”

She kept on walking but heard the childlike chorus of “I do! I do!”

Morgan could not bear any of this. But she did her best to smile and tend to all the visitors. She spent the next few hours drinking and answering loads of questions about area history and about the museum. She handed out a million leaflets to people who wanted to book tour groups. She was quite erudite and entertaining, even if she did say so herself.

It was almost time for the ceremonial lighting of the torches. This was the point where, at the moment of the eclipse, everyone who wanted a torch would light one from the bonfire and take it home as a symbol of community and friendship. Of course, in this modern age, with people driving home from the ceremony in their cars, this was an utterly preposterous idea. So, she expected the crowd would quickly put out their torches and be on their way home with their trinkets after this.

She had so hoped to witness this with Adam. But he was nowhere to be found. She couldn’t bear it.

She went home and called the number on his card. No answer. Maybe it was time for a little chant in the She Shed to see if she could locate him.

When she arrived, the door to the shed was ajar. That wasn’t good. Inside, she noticed immediately that things had been messed with. The note at the center of the circle was gone. The eros candle was on the floor.

With a rising panic in her throat she realized what had happened to Adam. He had seen this room. He knew what these things meant. He had not been called to work. He had fled.

Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck.

She sat on the floor and began lighting the candles, but then realized all of her conjuring had caused this mess in the first place. She blew out the candles and crumpled to the floor, crying. She was drunk, sure, but she was also clear-headed enough to know exactly what she had done.

How could she fix this? She may have started this with her witchcraft, but he was not under a spell. She sat up. Wiped her tears. Told herself, this man is your mate. You are meant to be together. You get up. You go find him. You figure it out. You will get through this. The end.

She sprinted to the door and opened it, ready to roll. But she stopped short and sobered up in a goddam hurry because at her door was the most mother-loving terrifying sight she had ever seen in this life. Oh, she had seen this plenty of times before. It was hazy, but the memories of trauma from her former lives were right there, staring her in the face.

It was literally an angry mob of the city leaders and dozens and dozens of others. Children and old people. Every single one of the Normals that she knew was standing at her door. With torches. And pitchforks.

What was happening? Was this a joke? Was this some kind of surprise reenactment of events leading up to the historic witch trials?

She looked at their faces, and it only took a second to realize these people were not in their right mind. Something had happened to them.

White-hot fear snapped her into fight mode. She lifted her wand against them and fired a binding spell. But it didn’t work. She fired again and looked closely. The magic spell bounced away, like there was a force field around them. There was magic working against her. These people were under some spell and someone was controlling them with dark forces. And there were too many of them to fight.

Unable to fight, she fled. Slamming the door in their faces, she beat feet to the back window and crawled through. Using her wand she made herself fly across the chicken coop, to the garage where she kept her car. She wished she could fly over the grounds to find her Sisters, but the spell was only good for seven seconds and sapped her energy. She was well aware she was too drunk to drive, but fuck it. She had to get help. There had to be a hundred of them out there.

She put her car in gear and peeled out, brights on, and aimed the car for the angry mob. Just as she couldn’t fight their magic with her magic, unless they themselves were casting spells, their magic could not stand against a very not-magic thousand pounds of rolling steel. She floored it and was about to crash right into the crowd, but then she saw them. The kids from last night. They had crazy eyes just like their parents. But they were, in fact, kids. They were not in their right mind. In fact, none of these people were in their right mind. She backed up the car and headed for the highway. Chances were the angry mob had already taken her Sisters prisoner, as she had been the only one missing at the bonfire ceremony.

The bonfire ceremony. That’s when it clicked. The blood moon. The eclipse. Something about the lifting of the veil between the worlds had caused people to turn against the witches, and now they were rounding them up.

Morgan sped down the highway in her Volvo and headed for town. Fuck me for not carrying a phone, she thought.

However, as she drove down the hill, she saw a line of police cars, fire trucks and ambulances headed back up the hill, in the direction of the museum grounds.

Thank Goddess. Someone called for help. But in the line of emergency vehicles, she didn’t see Adam’s car anywhere.

She needed to find him. He would know what to do.