You see everythingPrevious years saw Halloween come and go in a whirlwind of lights, skulls, ghosts and parties, costumes, themed and elaborate, and Caleb's legendary party, which involved hired staff and from 2007 on, an afterparty that left me unable to show my face for days for the literal shame I felt just in knowing that the others knew I had remained behind. Back when I still had a face to save, that is.
You see every part
You see all my light
and you love my dark
Now that the ghosts are real there are no parties, no lights and no costumes. I don't feel up to celebrating what has become a macabre display of death by people who clearly don't know that death is forever, that doing the zombie shuffle and catastrophic-injury face-painting is a crass celebration of someone else's agony. That skulls are what remain when we lose the precious features of the ones we love.
Besides, Caleb doesn't feel well enough to host a party, let alone an afterparty and I am granted a reprieve from the digressions he has come to expect. Obedience he draws power from, sucking the life right out of me as I try to put on a brave face and stand up to him as I attempt to plot his inevitable death.
Another ghost, albeit as malevolent as Cole and as passionate as Jake, or maybe he really is immortal. I would expect no less of Satan.
I would still like to see you tomorrow night after the children are settled in, if you would join me for a nightcap.
I frown at him.
We'll have some juice and toast with Cheese Whiz.
I burst out laughing. Classy.
I'll use the good plates.
Do you have bad ones?
No.
I can't come.
Why not?
Lochlan won't like it.
So don't tell him. Just like you didn't tell him you've forgiven me for failing to confirm what you already knew.
Oh, have I forgiven you?
You're here, aren't you?
Because you won't release me.
Because, Bridget, he stood up and walked around my chair and then brought his face down beside mine, you aren't ready to go just yet.
I'm fine.
You still talk to the dead, Bridget. You can't be left unattended. You devastate everything in your path and you can bring a man to his knees in under six seconds without so much as flinching when he falls. That sort of power has to be controlled and you can't manage it.
And you can? It's a whisper. I clear my throat and he stands back up.
So far so good.
What happened to honesty and illness and a kinder, gentler Diabhal?
Sometimes you function better when I simply order you around.
He smiles so kindly I want to agree but I shake my head. That's a myth.
We'll test your theory tomorrow evening. Say around ten?