Honestly, up until a few days ago, that was exactly what Nyssa had been planning. She had an old witch’s hat of her grandma’s, and her broom of course, but then she’d seen the selkie’s costume in the charity shop’s window as she walked past the day before. It had reminded her of the stories her grandma used to tell her of the water-dwelling creatures gliding beneath the moonlight, and Nyssa had bought the costume without a second thought.
The dress parted at the bottom to mimic a selkie’s tail, the slight shimmer to the grey fabric giving the impression that the dress was covered in tiny water droplets. Nyssa had also gone to extra lengths with her make-up, making sure her sparkling grey eyeshadow perfectly matched the dress; she’d even braved a small enchantment that would keep her long hair looking wet and tousled all evening, as though she’d just emerged from the lake after a swim, without actually dripping water everywhere.
‘Thought I’d mix it up,’ she said, doing a little shimmy so the sparkly grey of her skirt-slash-tail glinted in the firelight as she took in Gwen’s vampire costume. Donned in leather trousers, a long, red velvet coat and bloodied fangs, she’d intricately done the make-up around her eyes to make them look as if the veins were raised and darkened. ‘You look terrifying.’
Gwen barred her fake fangs. ‘Thanks. Do you want a drink? There’s a two-for-one-special on Spicy Gnomes.’
Nyssa still recalled the hangover after her first taste of Spicy Gnome. She winced at the memory. ‘I think I’ll stick to cider.’
‘Got it. Be right back!’
Gwen disappeared into the crowd, and Nyssa had barely taken her seat when Alaric, Liora and a figure Nyssa didn’t recognize appeared. ‘Oh my gosh, you look so good!’ Liora said. ‘I’d let you lure me into the water any day.’ She winked.
Nyssa barked out a laugh. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. Speaking of – should Nyx take yours as one?’
The bard had come dressed in a black leotard, black tights and boots and black cat-ears. She’d drawn whiskers on her plump cheeks, as well as a small, pink heart on the tip of her nose, and when she whirled to show off her outfit, a thick, fluffy black tail whacked Alaric in the thigh.
‘Li, watch where you’re going with that thing!’ the warlock bellowed, rubbing his leg in mock-pain.
‘Of course she should,’ Liora replied, ignoring Alaric’s grumbling. ‘Do you think she’d like it?’
‘She’d love it.’ It felt odd not having her familiar at her side on Samhain eve, but Nyx wasn’t a fan of the tavern when it was too busy. Nyssa had left her happily curled up on Lisabeth’s old armchair with a blanket tucked around her.
‘I’ll have to drop by and show it to her once we’re done with our show—Oh, yeah, Nyssa, this is Swyn!’
Swyn offered Nyssa a small, shy smile. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’
Liora had told her that the singer was rumoured to be half-siren, and looking at their high, sharp cheekbones (which they’d graced with a layer of shimmering, blue glitter that matched the under colour of their hair) and almost cat-like pupils, Nyssa could understand why. ‘You, too.’
‘Here we go!’ Gwen reappeared with two drinks in hand, one Spicy Gnome and one bottle of blackcurrant-flavoured cider. ‘I saw the cavalry had arrived, so I brought help.’
Nyssa’s breath caught as Elowen appeared beside Gwen. Her costume was simple – a cotton dress cinched at the waist with a corset, its sleeves billowing over her hands, and a black, pointed hat atop her loosely waved hair. And yet seeing the elf in old-style witch attire made Nyssa’s skin flush.
Elowen seemed to have the same reaction to seeing Nyssa’s skin-tight costume, too. A pretty blush crept up her neck, and she pointedly looked down at the tray of drinks in her hands. ‘Spicy Gnomes, on the house.’
Alaric reached for one and took a long sip. ‘You are my favourite person.’
‘And you aren’t wearing a costume.’ Elowen gave him a disapproving glare that Nyssa found frustratingly attractive.
‘Yes I am!’ Alaric gestured to the pin-striped suit he wore and, in a rather impressive imitation of a certain estate agent, said in a nasal voice, ‘I’m Mr Lefton.’
Elowen rolled her eyes, while Gwen, Liora, Swyn and Nyssa laughed. Thankfully, the estate agent didn’t appear to be present tonight. Nyssa didn’t imagine he’d be too pleased with Alaric’s portrayal if he were.
‘I still remember that Samhain when you shifted into a bat and scared the life out of old Gaius,’ Gwen said, sipping her drink with a grin. ‘I vote we do that again.’
Alaric scoffed. ‘Yeah, I’m not doing that again. He hit me with his cane – my shoulder still twinges because of it!’
‘Serves you right,’ Swyn commented before turning to Liora. ‘Li, we’re due on any minute. We should get set up.’
Liora took a large swig of her drink (Nyssa still didn’t know where her tolerance came from), slammed it down on the table with a force that made Nyssa wince, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘All right, let’s get this show on the road! Nys, you remember what we practised, right?’
‘I do.’ She also had the earbuds Liora had given her in her bag just in case, but hopefully, she wouldn’t need them. Nyx might not be there for her to focus on, but surrounded by her friends, Nyssa didn’t think she’d struggle to find an alternative.
In fact, her focus was already drifting towards one friend in particular. Elowen sat perched elegantly on one of the chairs around the table, her shift paused while Liora and Swyn performed, and in the flickering firelight, the elf looked practically ethereal. But it wasn’t just her that caused Nyssa’s chest to flood with warmth; it was the proud smile on Alaric’s face as he watched Liora perform. The calm, almost adoring look in Gwen’s eyes when Swyn’s soft, soothing voice rang out. They were so … comfortable here – puzzle pieces that slotted into place with ease – and as the pull of magic from Liora’s lyre tried to lull her into a dream-like state, Nyssa focused on that puzzle. On the idea that perhaps, just maybe, she could fit into it, too.
CHAPTER TEN
In all her years on this earth as a witch, Nyssa had experienced all sorts of emotions: love, anger, joy, fear, hate. But she wasn’t sure of the last time she’d felt this. This intoxicating flood of pure and unconditional acceptance that hadn’t left her since the other night at The Pixie’s Grove.