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.