All Hallows Eve, Vol. 3

Chapter 3

Three

Harper

Trick-or-treating and being able to act like a kid again is so much fun. It’s a welcome stress relief from the typical days of college monotony.

Wake up. Go to class. Study for said class. Sleep. Rinse. Repeat.

Having Whitney in my life definitely helps, though. I love when I can shock her, and despite my excitement as we knock on each door in our dorm, the image of her face, while she was coming, is at the forefront of my mind.

“If you keep giving me those hungry eyes, we’re going to cut this short,” Whitney whispers into my ear as we approach the next door. I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of going back to our dorm room and finishing what we started, but it’s nice to get out every once in a while.

“One more floor, and we can head back and start our potion.”

“Fiiiiine.” I laugh at Whitney’s pouty lip because she isn’t getting her way this time, and I think she knows it.

Before long, we head back to our floor with bags full of candy. Since we knew we’d be gone for a while, we left a bowl outside our room, and to no surprise, we find it empty when we return.

“I’ll refill it while you get everything started.” Whitney kisses me on the cheek, and we walk in separate directions once inside. We purposely only put out half the candy for this exact reason.

I walk into our bedroom and retrieve the spell book from my backpack. A cold shiver runs down my spine when I take it out of my bag, giving me the creeps. This entire book gives me the creeps, but I assume that’s the point the author was trying to make when they wrote it.

The Grimoire of Hemlock is etched across the middle of the cover. I picked the creepiest-looking book in the archive because I knew Whitney would like it the best. I’m a regular and respected customer of the library. Although they don’t usually allow the archived books to leave, I got special permission and a stern “threat” from the head librarian to return it unharmed. And by threat, I mean she told me she’d revoke my library card. We had a good laugh, and I swore Scout’s honor, I’d return it tomorrow exactly how I was taking it.

Whitney is closing the door as I walk into the kitchen, where we left all our supplies earlier. I look at them skeptically, wondering how all these random things are supposed to be a love spell and how we’re supposed to drink it.

“When do I get to crush stuff?” Whitney rubs her hands together, ready to cause mini destruction.

“Down girl. I’ll let you know when we get to that step. First, we need to separate some of the ingredients. A few need to be sauteed.”

“Sauteed? Aren’t we drinking it? This sounds totally weird.”

“Don’t back out on me now. It’s what you wanted.” Warm arms wrap around my back, and Whitney rests her chin on my shoulder.

“I’m going to love you forever,” she kisses my cheek. “And always.” Neck . “Till you’re old and wrinkly.” Shoulder . “Till I have to change your diapers.” Neck.

“Hey.” I spin in her arms and squint my eyes. “And what will you look like when I’m hagrid and incontinent?”

“Just like this, because I’m sure somewhere in that book there’s a spell for eternal beauty you’ll make for me,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Is that so? And why wouldn’t I use the same spell on myself?”

She rubs her nose against mine in a playful Eskimo kiss. “Because I’ll think you’re beautiful even with compression socks and saggy tits. And I’m too vain to get old.”

“Ah. There it is. The real reason. You just want me to look like a cougar with a hot younger girlfriend.”

“Hell no,” she protests, and her head flies back as if I’ve slapped her. “I’ll be your hot younger wife because you’re gonna put a ring on it. This body isn’t free forever.” She uses a hand to motion up and down her figure.

There are several moments of silence and staring before we burst out laughing.

“Okay, okay. Stop being a hot wife distraction, and let me get started so we can get everything ready on time.”

“Sure thing. Let me know if you need help with your readers or need some Bengay .”

“Shut. Up.” I push her out of the way and toward the living room, where she drapes herself over the back of the couch so she can watch.

It doesn’t take long before it’s time for Whitney to crush some of the herbs together. Her face fills with joy when I bring out the mortar and pestle bowl.

“Is it crusher time?”

“Yes. It’s your time to shine,” I laugh as she jumps off the couch, practically tripping into the kitchen.

I add the ingredients, instructing her on the severity of being careful because each ingredient is perfectly measured and every leaf and petal counts. Whitney takes my words very seriously, and I have to stop to watch her adorable concentration face.

“What’s left?” Whitney looks around at the three separate containers in front of us.

“Now we wait until it’s time to mix it all together.”

“How bad do you think it’s going to taste?”

I assess the three clear jars. The first has dry ingredients ground into a fine powder. There’s a slight pink tint to it because of the flowers. The second container has a dark brown substance that’s almost paste-like and gives me the most pause. The third is the alkaline water mixed with Himalayan salt.

“Pretty bad. Let’s hope the sludge melts when we boil it all together. Otherwise, it’s going to be hell to get down.”

“Gross. Let’s hope. Are we supposed to drink all of it?”

“That part is vague.” I turn to the book and read through the last few lines again and see nothing specific. “It seems to make more than two people would drink.”

“Hmm.” A sly smile creeps up Whitney’s lips. “Maybe the witches were into polyamory, so the batch is for a whole harem of lovers.”

“More holes make for more fun.”

Whitney’s jaw drops. Her face freezes in shock at my crass statement. She blinks several times before huffing. Her head tilts, and she looks at me as if I have six heads.

“What have you done with my beautiful, completely appropriate girlfriend? She would never say anything so brazenly sexual.” She pokes at the grimoire. “Has this book short-circuited your personality?”

Grabbing her hips, I pull her into me and slide my hands under the back of her shirt. My teeth nip at her earlobe, and I whisper seductively, “Do you want me to stop?”

“Never.”

“Then don’t complain. Besides, you like when I use all of your holes.”

“Shhh, Harper. Don’t give away all of my dirty little secrets.”

A timer sounds behind us, and a smile spreads across Whitney’s face.

“Is it time?”

“It’s time.”