Something very wicked blew into Briarwood.

The lingering sun melted across the evening sky like creamsicles. Golden and scarlet leaves danced in the wind as Lucien Cromwell crossed the sidewalk, soaking in the petrichor from the morning's thunderstorm. Nothing was lovelier than foliage in the fall.

All around him, shop owners prepared for the kick-start of the Harvest Festival. Strings of orange lights dangled from the rafters of Blissful Bites bakery, where a heavenly blend of pumpkin spice and baked goods drifted in the air. Lucien couldn't resist popping in for some sweets.

Boxes with their black cat logo floated in the air, landing with care on the countertop as Charlotte rounded the corner with four more containers in her arms. It gave Lucien a chance to decide what he wanted while she rang up the customer in front of him. Gleeful little kids tried sneaking some cupcakes for themselves as their mom struggled to keep their hands out of the containers.

Once the woman and her children stepped aside, Lucien approached the counter. "Busy day?"

"You don't know half of it." Charlotte wiped her forehead on the back of her sleeve, and her long daffodil braid swung over her shoulder. "Everyone's always throwing parties during the Harvest Festival to celebrate. Mom and Dad are going out too, ya know?"

"Yeah, she told me." Lucien nodded, pensively eyeing the treats in the display case. "Anyway, I'll take a dozen of your frosted donuts." He pointed to the tray of multicolored donuts, shaped like pumpkins, cats, and ghosts.

"I'm going with them again this year, and I think you should too." Charlotte opened the case and collected the donuts for him. "Sounds like it'll be really fun. Half the neighborhood will be there."

"Already have plans." Lucien shrugged as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the counter's glass. Locks of icy blond hair spilled across his forehead, and his golden-framed glasses accentuated his azure eyes.

Charlotte frowned as she sealed the box with a sticker and rang up his total. "Would it kill you to join our family for this at least once? Everyone's always asking about you. Mom just tells them you went with your friends instead, but it's weird. People whisper about you. They know where you're really at."

"As if I'm scared of Mrs. Pepperheart's rumors," Lucien scoffed, then pressed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "They just like to show off their kids to everyone and brag about tedious things during those social gatherings. " He waved a dismissive hand.

"There's no convincing you, is there?" Charlotte shook her head.

Lucien grinned as he accepted his donuts. "Not a chance, sis. Tell those gossipers all about me, okay? Come up with the most ridiculous rumors you can think of."

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I will. We won't hear the end of it tonight."

"Are you nagging him about Harvest Fest again?" Charlotte's co-owner and best friend, Seraphina, poked her head out from the small window connected to the back room. Short, chin-length, pink curls framed her face. "Some of us like spending it with our friends. My folks are always trying to get me to stay all night long, but I never do. I always end up at Silas' house instead. You should join us tonight too, Charlotte. The Rosewoods' always have the best food. I swear, you'll love their pot roast."

Lucien smirked. "Yeah, sis. Have a little fun for Harvest this year."

Charlotte shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. I might consider it."

Every year, their mom tried to convince him to stick around for the festivities. Even if it was only for half the night. It wasn't like Lucien despised the idea of their neighbors hounding him with questions about his future with the Supernatural Council and certain friendships, but he had somewhere else he'd rather be.

Soon, evening shades bled into the night, where a full moon cast its bright rays onto their town. His neighbors decorated most of their homes in extravagant lights and set out festive Jack-o'-lanterns on their porches. It reminded him of all the times he and Charlotte carved pumpkins. Hers always turned out so much better than his.

Bats soared above his head and laughter rang out all around him from gatherings in the neighborhood. Only when Lucien neared the end of Golden Leaf Avenue did silence greet him. Wind roared in his ears as he tugged his hood over his head, tucking his icy blond hair beneath it, and his grip on the box of donuts tightened as he walked down to the end of the street.

The dark Victorian-style house loomed before Lucien. No festive decorations adorned their yard like other houses did. Cold chills trickled down his back like ghostly fingertips as he stepped onto the porch. Magic barriers wrapped around the place like invisible chains to ward off evil and unwanted visitors. Its potent power vibrated through his very soul.

He pressed his finger on the skull-shaped door bell, faintly hearing the screaming chime from the inside.

Lucien tried to peek in from the black curtains, but he saw nothing. They were home, right? He tried the doorbell again, shivering from the draft. Just when Lucien was about to ring it again, he almost walked right into Mrs. Vale when she opened the door and greeted him with a licorice-lipped smile. She'd donned an elegant onyx grown for the evening, adorned with the family crest wrought into a pendant of silver bordered by fire gems. Next to all that grandeur, Lucien was tempted to bow like a servant in his shabby button down shirt and black denim jeans.

"We were afraid you wouldn't make it, Lucien. Come in and make yourself at home." Mrs. Vale stepped aside for him.

Delicious smells drifted all around the room as Lucien crossed the foyer. Festive glass pumpkin trinkets covered the side table with a bowl full of their homemade candies. He remembered how he once made a bet with his childhood best friend on who could eat the most. Of course, he won, but the stomach ache he faced afterward wasn't worth it.

"Hope you're hungry, because I made enough to feed the entire neighborhood!"

Lucien whipped around, staring down at the stout man clad in his formal-wear and comical socks with smiling ghosts. A Kiss the Cook apron hung loosely around Mr. Vale's smaller frame. His wife came up beside him, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

"Can't wait, I'm starving!" Lucien moseyed into the kitchen and found a place for his donuts on the crowded counter. "Let me set the table?"

"You're our guest. Castor should be down soon, and he can do it. Have some refreshments, if you'd like." Mr. Vale gestured to the alcohol on the table, which Lucien helped himself to. The cocktail he sipped was nicknamed Vampire's Kiss, mixed with cherry, cranberry, and vodka.

It wasn't long before Castor made his way downstairs. A hint of color graced his cheeks, his piercing coal-dark eyes framed by unruly black curls. His trousers were clearly tailored to fit his long, lean legs and not expose his ankles like highwaters. Their family's crest of a phoenix rising from the flames embellished the left breast pocket of his sleek onyx suit, but by the irritated scowl on his face, Lucien knew his mother made him wear it.

"This is ridiculous." Castor sighed when he reached the kitchen and propped his back against the fridge. "Why do we need to dress so formally when it's just Lucien here?"

"A proper gentleman always dresses in formal-wear for the first night of Harvest." Mrs. Vale pinched her son's ear. "Now, go set the table for us."

Castor retrieved his wand from his pocket, and with a few flicks of his wrist, china swept across the room. A black tablecloth fluttered over before each dish landed perfectly on the elongated table, adding the finishing touches of a candlelight centerpiece. Small flames danced on the wick, ignited with Castor's magic.

It was an ethereal scene to witness his magic, especially when he put effort into it. Setting the table obviously didn't compare to the unique abilities Castor possessed, but he rarely showed his true magic to anyone.

When Castor took his seat, Lucien sat beside him. Warmth coursed through his body as Castor's flames danced and crackled around them. Amid the delightful smell of foods, Castor's familiar scent of vetiver and sandalwood drifted around him. Lucien cleared his voice and adjusted his glasses, admiring the chandelier above them before saying, "You, um, look nice."

Castor cracked a smile and propped his elbow up on the table. "Thanks, but I feel like a fool. You know, we weren't sure if you were coming over this year. Charlotte told my mom that you'd be celebrating with them."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised."

"Why don't you celebrate with them? Not that I'm complaining. But you know, people talk." Castor spared a glance at his mother and father in the kitchen, lowering his voice. "They see you associate with us during the first night of Harvest instead of your family, and you get the gist. You're hanging out with blood-thirsty killers." He made a teasing gesture with the dinner knife, stabbing at the table.

What could he say? Lucien would rather die from embarrassment before he ever admitted the truth.

"I don't like all the attention." Lucien brought his glass to his lips and took a sip. "Being the only son of the Cromwell's comes with a lot of responsibilities and expectations that I don't live up to. And they're so freaking nosy."

"I'm sure they hound you with questions about us," Castor said.

Lucien forced a half-smile and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah... I usually avoid them when I can."

"Do they still make sacrifices with animals?" Castor mocked in a dramatic tone. "Drink blood like vampires?"

"I don't listen to their nonsense." Lucien shrugged. "I've known you and your family since I was born. Their lies don't bother me."

"It's not all lies." Castor conjured a small flame in his palm. He quickly put it out when his mom came over to the table.

When the clock struck midnight, Mr. Vale served them bowls full of chili and plates brimming with cornbread. Lucien preferred the quiet dinner with Castor's family over the boisterous drunks that pestered him back at their neighbor's house. While he loved his family with all his heart, he knew he needed to be here instead.

Once, Lucien had tried to convince his folks to invite the Vales' over but they always refused, claiming it would somehow taint their image among the neighborhood. Even Charlotte had tried persuading him to spend less time with Castor and his family, but he never listened. The Vales' ancestors caused a lot of harm in the past, but that was back then. Not now.

🪄

Whispers from the wind drifted through the air, rumored to be unruly spirits roaming the streets at night. Behind him, the Vales' home appeared uninviting and cold, yet he knew the secrets that lay within it. They were good folks. No matter what anyone else claimed or what the past suggested. Lucien had reached the mailbox before Castor burst out the front door and hurried down the driveway.

"Something wrong?" Lucien asked.

"Nah, my folks wanted me to walk you back. Just to make sure you get home safely," Castor replied.

"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry."

"Humor them, please? I'll never hear the end of it." Castor glanced behind them.

Lucien noticed a shift in the living room curtain, failing to hide his grin. "Alright, come on."

Moonlight guided them down the dark street. Most people had already ended their festivities for the night, knowing how dreadful tomorrow's hangover would be.

Castor tugged his tailcoat jacket close and rested his hands in his pockets. "Thanks for doing this."

"Doing what?" Lucien tilted his head, brows furrowed.

"Celebrating Harvest Fest with us. Mom loves it when you come over and Dad always cooks plenty for you," Castor replied. "They act like it doesn't bother them when most of the town shuns us, but it does. Like, I get how we shouldn't forget the past and all that shit, but it's ridiculous how they treat us. As if we're plotting to murder them all." He rolled his eyes.

"We've been friends since our first year in wizardry school," Lucien said. "I think I'd know by now if you all planned a murder spree. But I guess the other families are just stuck in their ways, hung up on the past."

"Most of the town thinks we're planning to kill you." Castor brushed his shoulder against his, letting warm breath trickle against his ear. "Right now would be the perfect opportunity. No witnesses to hear your screams."

Heat bloomed in Lucien's cheeks as he averted his friend's gaze. "As if you'd have the guts."

Shadows slithered around the neighborhood trees and shrubs like black snakes. Chills raked Lucien's body. His breath remained visible in the air as he searched around, unable to shake an uncanny sensation of being watched.

Before he could move, the street lamp bulbs shattered around them. A shrill scream pierced the silent street, and Castor instinctively threw himself over Lucien to shield him from the lightbulb's shards.

Lucien barely heard Castor's voice over the thunderous beating of his own heart in his ears. His friend held him close, protective arms tightening around him as he gently tilted his face upward with his cold fingers to meet Castor's concerned, darkened eyes.

"Are you okay?" Castor asked. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No," Lucien choked out. "Are you?"

Castor shook his head. "We need to head back to my house."

"But mine's just around the corner," Lucien pointed out. "Didn't you hear that scream? I think someone's hurt. Maybe they misused their magic or got too caught up in the festivities. Drunk people do stupid things."

Lucien broke away from his grasp, but Castor seized his wrist. "You don't understand. What we just felt was black magic."

Lucien paled, horror washing over him as he reeled back. "No, it can't be. You're mistaken. Nobody's cast any spells like that in years. Not since we were toddlers."

"I know what black magic feels like." Castor grit his teeth. "Don't ask me why or how. Just let me take you back to my house."

What the hell did he mean by that? None of them had ever experienced black magic before. It was forbidden. Parents couldn't teach it, nor could their teachers. Did that mean his mom and dad broke the sacred laws by allowing him to use it? Were the rumors about them right?

Lucien gazed back toward his street, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry. I need to get home. My family's waiting for me."

Adrenaline coursed through Lucien's body as he darted toward his house. Castor's desperate pleas echoed in his head, but he disregarded them. Despite the horrific images his mind conjured of Castor practicing black magic, he tried to block them out. Castor would never do that. His childhood best friend wasn't a ruthless killer like his ancestors.

Each pounding footstep resonated in sync with his heart. When Lucien turned the corner, a young woman sprawled out on the sidewalk caught his eye. Locks of snow-blonde hair spilled out beneath her head. As Lucien hurried over to her, blood drained from his face.

"Charlotte!" Lucien dropped to his knees on the pavement. Frantic, animalistic wails escaped his lungs as he begged for someone to help him.

Spiderwebs of black spread across her porcelain skin, her face registering unadulterated terror at whatever had attacked her. Her eyes fluttered, tears of blood trickling down her cheeks as she gaped up at Lucien, unable to form the words she desperately tried to tell him.

The atmosphere shifted into something sinister. It was like hell's demons circled around them, and Lucien couldn't dare escape it by abandoning his sister.

Charlotte inhaled a sharp breath before her eyes closed and her chest's steady breaths ceased. With a trembling hand, he reached out to check her pulse. A cold sweat broke out all over Lucien's skin as he desperately clung to her, hoping his magic could heal her injuries.

It burned him to touch her, to try forcing his healing magic into a dying soul. Despite the aches in his body, he kept fighting to keep her alive. Only when Castor wrenched him away did everything come crashing down. Lucien's gaze traveled out across the road, where a dark figure emerged from behind a tree. Even in the dim light, Lucien made out their wand as they directed it right at them.

"Avasha!" Castor sent a potent gust of flames that took on the shape of a snake at the dark figure.

Castor's instincts saved him with the counter-attack spell, and the shadow crashed into the brush line behind them. Embers lingered around them ready to heed Castor's call, but their attacker stumbled and crashed through branches as it fled. Once the night fell to silence, Lucien tried to make sense of the scene around him, but it was hard to make anything out through the tears flooding his eyes.

"Lucien." The delicate touch of Castor's calloused fingers caressed the side of his face. "I'm so sorry. Charlotte's gone."

The commotion had alerted the neighbors, who crept out onto their porches to see what had happened. Lucien couldn't speak or pull himself back to his feet to explain the situation as they gathered around like hungry vultures. Sobs raked his body as he buried his face against Castor's black suit, staining it with his snot and tears.

All around them, whispers and panic-stricken screams erupted. But Castor just held him close and rubbed small circles along his back.