Monsterval officially kicked off at sunset on Friday with the Tiny Monsters Parade through town. All children, whether they lived on Darkaway or were just visiting, were welcome to participate. They could march in their animal forms—if they were old enough to shift—wear costumes, or simply come as they were, while their parents waved from the crowds lining Nightshade Avenue.
There was one notable exception to the under the age of eighteen participation rule, however.
At a recent town council meeting, residents had voted overwhelmingly to name Travis the Parade Marshall. Which was how the island’s favorite son, who hadn’t been to a Monsterval in years, ended up driving a pink cartoon car, knees up to his ears, leading a flotilla of his nieces and their friends behind him.
“That man is a god among men,” said Sister Mary Francis, her hand to her chest.
Sister Elenor nodded. “A saint.”
I gave them the side-eye. Nuns weren’t supposed to talk like that, were they? I knew they had two sets of eyes and ovaries, but it sounded marginally blasphemous. Hopefully, they were referring to how cute Travis looked and not how incredibly hot he was. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel if it was the latter.
I tried not to recall in vivid, motion-picture detail just how thoroughly I’d worshipped his body last night. It didn’t seem appropriate.
At that moment, Travis saw me in the crowd and waved, giving me the biggest, goofiest grin. I waved back just as enthusiastically. My insides melted at all the fun he was having and that I was a part of it.
“You’re so adorkable!” I yelled.
He blew me a kiss. “I know.”
God, could I love this man any more?
When Portia’s son Austin marched past, I waved my miniature Darkaway Island flag and wolf-whistled at him. He was dressed as a very serious superhero, who evidently thought smiling wasn’t appropriate. Angus’s daughter, whom I met on my first visit to Midnight Garage and Nails, was... I wasn’t sure. A colorful Viking shield-maiden decked out in hearts and knives? Viktor waved at me as he and Angus trailed behind the kids on the sidelines, letting them bask in their glory.
“Portia wants to have you guys over for dinner soon,” he said, cupping his hand to his mouth.
I gave him a thumb’s up. “We’d love that,” I called back.
Tears suddenly welled up again, and I quickly brushed them away. I loved everything about this quirky small town and the people who lived here. I’d never felt such a feeling of belonging before. My gushy feelings quickly changed to amusement when the Sisters started arguing rather loudly about something stupid.
Travis and I planned to meet up at the roasted corn-on-the-cob booth after the parade ended, so when the last group of children passed—an electric scooter gang of teenagers in their bear forms—I said my goodbyes to the Sisters and made my way over there.
As I strolled down Nightshade Avenue, I made a mental note to go into the cute yarn store I had just passed as soon as I had time. I hadn’t knitted or crocheted in ages, but I’d been feeling all sorts of creative energy since coming here. In fact, I’d even been considering taking a painting class at the community center that I’d seen advertised at Unholy Grounds. Apparently, the instructor was a very talented ghoul who’d apprenticed under Picasso.
Just as I arrived at the corn stand, I felt a hand on my arm. Thinking it was Travis, I smiled and turned, planning to plant azillion kisses on his handsome face. But it wasn’t him. It turned out to be a very thin woman with sharp angular features, and my smile instantly faded. I didn’t get a good vibe from her at all.
“Daphne, right?”
I nodded tentatively. Although I’d met many people recently, she didn’t look remotely familiar.
“I have some information that I think you’ll be very interested in hearing.”
I narrowed my eyes. Whowasthis woman? And how did she know me?
Sensing my skepticism, she smiled back, but it didn’t reach her eyes. They remained cold. “I’m coming to you as a friend.”
“I’m sorry…have we met?” I knew, however, that we hadn’t.
The woman flicked her hand, dismissing my question. “If I were in your shoes, I’d want to know the truth about Travis and the Date-a-Wolf contest.”
I took a step away, not trusting this stranger. While most of his fans were nice, he was bound to attract a few loons. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to?—”
She closed the distance between us, her Cheshire cat smile gone. “Didn’t you ever wonder why someone like Travis—famous, handsome, a good catch by anyone’s definition—was taking part in a dating contest? I mean, come on. The man doesn’t have problems getting dates, if you know what I mean.”
I didn’t know what she was getting at, and frankly, I didn’t care. I looked around for Travis but didn’t see his familiar dark head above the crowd of people and various monsters. Wherewashe?
The woman was talking fast now. She could tell I wasn’t interested in what she was peddling and was just about to bolt. “Did you know he and his sister cooked up that little contest as a way for them to save the ranch? That his father’s will stated if his eldest son, Travis, wasn’t mated by the next White Wolf Moon after his death, that he would lose the ranch.”
She was telling me nothing I didn’t already know, so what was her point? Did this deranged fan think she could drive a wedge between Travis and me, making him available to her?
