Page 72 of Bitten By the Basilisk

“She makes it incredibly easy,” he said with affection, their fingers brushing as he took the bag of books from her.

Once their things were safely stowed in the car’s trunk, Silas drove them toward Town Square while sending the occasional hungry glance at her legs, which she only noticed because she kept stealing looks at his handsome profile.

The drive flew by as they and her mom chatted about the books she had purchased. Soon, Silas was pulling into a secure garage at a property his family owned that wasn’t far from the square. They walked the rest of the way.

Paper ghosts and pumpkins hung from black-and-purple streamers that fluttered above and between the many booths filling Town Square for Hallowe’en Week, the crisp autumn air carrying the scent of fried dough and cinnamon. Jack-o’-lanterns lined the sidewalks, and fake spiderwebs covered the gazebo.

At least, she sincerely hoped they were fake.

The square’s offerings had attracted quite a crowd, most of them normies with a handful of supes mixed in. Some were waiting in line to have their faces painted or taking photos in front of an enormous jack-o’-lantern that weighed down a pile of hay bales. Others were listening to live music while enjoying ghost-shaped hand pies, “poisoned” caramel apples, mummy corn dogs, and witch-hat cupcakes. Most were browsing the stalls selling locally made handicrafts.

Silas let Alice and her mom take the lead, staying close behind and insisting on paying for everything. If she so much as looked at any of the crafted items longer than two seconds, he stepped up to buy it for her.

“I’m just admiring it!” she laughingly insisted when he offered to buy the palm-sized glass pumpkin she was holding. “Ceramics have never really interested me, but lately I’ve been tempted to try glassblowing.”

Silas got the pumpkin for her anyway.

Alice wondered if she’d catch him sighing or rolling his eyes or checking his phone, but he genially agreed to everything they did or wanted, and even pointed out his favorite booths from past years as well as the ones that were new.

In fact, every time she glanced his way, he was either calmly surveying the scene or giving her another of his small smiles.

And thanks to his seemingly insatiable appetite, she and her mom got to try a bite of all the festival fare that caught their eyes. Without fail, Silas would polish off whatever was left.

“Wait here, I’ll get us some drinks,” he said once they’d finished their sample-sized cups of a rather spicy chili.

While he ordered refreshments at a nearby booth that served apple cider and ginger beer, Alice took their empty cups and used spoons to the nearest disposal station, leaving her mom at the picnic table where they’d been eating while enjoying a live performance of Lady Gaga’s “Bloody Mary.”

The disposal station was a half-hearted stone’s throw from a fortune teller whose square-roofed tent was just big enough for a small round table and two chairs.

Alice’s ability told her that the wide-shouldered blond male seated in the customer-side chair was a shifter, as was the dark-haired male standing guard nearby. She couldn’t see the face of the one having his fortune told, but the one standing was familiar. She had seen him at the banquet last night.

Once she had thrown out the empty chili cups, she strolled closer, pretending to be looking at the next booth over that was selling handcrafted witch hats.

“Then what must I do to win?” the seated male seethed as he pounded his fist on the table.

“You cannot hope to do so fairly,” the fortune teller calmly replied. Her voice sounded familiar, but Alice couldn’t quite place it. “In fact, a worse fate awaits you if you continue down this path.”

“Fuck fate!” he snarled, shoving back from the table and standing, his outburst turning more heads than just Alice’s. “And fuck you. I want my money back.”

The fortune teller sighed. “Very well.”

A graceful pair of hands lifted a black cloth to reveal a single fifty, still crisp but curved as though it had sat in a folding wallet. The angry blond snatched it up.

“I better not see your face again,” he said, jabbing a finger at her.

Alice could hear the smile in the fortune teller’s reply. “Oh, you won’t.”

The blond then turned to storm off, only Alice was directly in his path. She managed to twist out of his way, preferring not to catch his attention, but he took one step past her, stopped, and turned back around to stare at her.

She recognized him as the blond serpent-folk who had given her a bad vibe at last night’s banquet, and who indeed continued to emanate asshole.

“You’re the one Silas is courting,” he said, his eyes narrowed. “Is he here, then?” He briefly looked around, then leaned closer, enough for her to catch a whiff of his cologne. “How much for you to put another little surprise into his next drink?”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What?”

He lightly shrugged. “Everyone has a price.”

“Not me,” she said, aghast.