It was a dark and spooky night... (Patreon)

A densely packed forest lay at the edge of the market. It had appeared at some point over the years, each tree sprouting in the quiet, given the chance to grow away from the opinions of others. The trunks were thick and old, bark peeling in long curls to provide shelter for the animals who had managed to escape and maintain their souls while the rest turned to paper. Cushions of moss sat invitingly around toadstools and fallen pinecones providing a bed for weary travelers. Though, most did not brave the woods for longer than necessary. It was said the fae had access to the woods and still stole those who were unassuming. Too often, those who went out to the woods, returned marked by the others.

The smell of the fire greeted them long before Hazel or Gabriel ever saw it. The smoke was curling around the trees, creating a long line for the two of them to follow while the orange haze sank towards the tips of the pines. The point of each needle pulsed with light, creating small flickering embers that drifted as ashen snow to the forest floor.

“This seems highly unregulated,” Gabriel commented. A flicker of flame drifted towards him, resting on his shoulder before extinguishing with a sigh. “Fires should not be permitted in the middle of the woods.”

Hazel had to crane her neck to look up at Gabriel, her nose scrunching in amusement. She found the Warden’s concern charming. He was practical in a world that abhorred such a trait. “I don’t think we have park rangers anymore,” she said. “Not that the forest is a park. But I would think someone who cares for parks would also care for forests.”

Gabriel bristled. “We had a park ranger. His name was Timothy. His wife Yolanda murdered him, for a good reason, and then she spent the rest of her life in cellblock two. I used to take tea with her every month.”

“Oh, that’s actually really sweet,” Hazel said.

Gabriel nodded solemnly. “Sometimes murder is appropriate. But it does not mean that one is above the law.”

The leaves crunched beneath their feet. Gabriel lent Hazel a hand, helping her step over a particularly crooked log and Hazel clutched both him, and a tartan blanket tightly. There was brisk chill in the air. It leaved deep within the forest where the animals didn’t roam. “You know, that is something I have thought about lately. When murder is and is not appropriate.”

Gabriel steadied her as she nearly tripped, one hand hovering close to her hip to keep her upright. He tipped his head to the side, however, years of being a Warden tuning him into what certain comments might mean. “Is that a confession, Ms. Albright?”

Hazel giggled, her cheeks pink from the walk. “From anyone else that would sound like flirtation.”

“I assure you I am not flirting.”

“Which is what I like about you, Gabriel. You are a man who does not flirt with every woman he has met and you are perfectly aware that we are capable of murder.”

He nodded resolutely at the compliment. But as they continued to walk, he frowned. “You did not answer my question.”

“Oh, look! There are the others.”

The bonfire was set in the middle of a clearing, bright and bold against a shadowed backdrop. Monsters and cryptids waited in the wings for their curtain call, hidden away from the dancing light that crackled across the semicircle of logs.

“Warden,” Malcolm said, rising immediately from where he sat. His eyes took in his sisters flushed cheeks and the way Gabriel’s hand was at her elbow. “I see you and my sister found each other.”

“She was walking alone in the woods which I thought was a negligent choice.”

Malcolm’s lips were thin. “I agree. Which is why I tried to walk with her.” He gave Hazel a meaningful look. The kind of look a brother gave when he wasn’t listened to.

“Perhaps you should have insisted harder,” Gabriel suggested.

From the other side of the fire, there was a loud groan. “Hazel, darling. Come sit and keep me warm. The boys’ greeting is nothing more than an exchange of testosterone and its only going to get worse.”

Hazel made a nervous little smile at both her brother and the Warden before quickly slipping from Gabriel’s grasp to go to Belladonna’s side. The vampire sat on a bench, because of course she wouldn’t stoop to sit on a log, with a fur blanket wrapped around her. She opened one corner of it, letting Hazel snuggle in. While the young witch was still certain Belladonna was going to drink from her one day, she found that the protection of the woman beside her was far more appealing than the risk of death.

“You cannot actually trade testosterone,” Gabriel said rather irritatedly. “It is not a physical thing in which you can bring out and exchange like a purchased good.”

“Mine, technically is,” Malcolm commented. Gabriel didn’t say anything back to him however and moved to inspect the fire.

Milo had been listening to the exchange, stacking a pill of wood nearby for easy access. A few pixies were nearby in the trees, monitoring him. Pumpkins were growing just out of sight and the sweet smell of apples was coursing through the air. The son of the goddess would not be harmed tonight.

“So, who brought the booze?” Milo asked. His eyes glinted gold, whether from the flames or being close to the fae realm, no one quite knew.

Malcolm came over to sit by his side. “You did.”

“I did as well,” Belladonna said. “But unless you like a certain amount of plasma in your liquor, I would not suggest drinking mine.”

Hazel titled her head to look at the vampire curiously. “What is the shelf life on something like that? I mean, I know that vodka is a wonderful way to keep things from going foul but I would think it wouldn’t interact well with blood.”

One of Belladonna’s fingers roamed up and down her spine beneath the blanket, causing Hazel to shiver. “It has to be fresh, my dear. That is why it is a delicacy. Tonight’s brew is mixed with bourbon and wine. Think of it like a mulled wine but cooked inside a body instead of a cauldron.” She smiled, tipping her head closer to Hazel. “You can try a bit if you like.”

“No, thank you,” Hazel squeaked.

Gabriel looked at the two of them with narrowed eyes.“Belladonna, I implore you to stop hitting on Ms. Albright.”

“And I implore you to never use the words ‘hitting on’ again. We are not prepubescent youths fumbling beneath a blanket.”

“I miss those days,” Milo said wistfully, poking at the fire.

“Those days gave you STD’s,” Malcolm commented.

“I don’t miss those.”

They lapsed into silence, the five of them sitting around the fire, staring at the flames, entranced by the dancing figures within. There was no reason for them to be together. No reason that this small group should be friends. A vampire baron, a witch who skirted all the rules, a gatekeeper that was above the rules and a former gatekeeper who made them all toe the line. And a Warden who was at odds with all of them most of the day. Yet, they stuck together. Maybe not in the light of day but in the quiet moments, they had found kinship. There was a camaraderie that came with knowing the world was in your hands.

“So, are we all here to get drunk and stare at the fire?” Belladonna mused. “I am not opposed to it but I am curious.”

“We could tell stories,” Hazel said, perking up. “Spooky stories.”

Milo snorted. “Haze, you get scared of your own shadow. What are you going to do here in the woods?”

“Well, I’ll be protecting her,” Bella cooed.  There was something about blood so close to the surface that Belladonna loved.

“I really hate how close you are to my sister.”

“I enjoy it.”

Hazel blushed, curling a little bit more under the blankets. “It’s warm in here at least.” Bella’s skin had warmed with the body heat and the heat of the flames.

“You can join us, young Malcolm,” she grinned. “Though I think that would be more awkward for your sister.”

“I’d join,” Milo said.

“You’re not invited.”

“The fuck? Just leaving Gabe babe and I out like that?”

“Gabriel hasn’t been invited because it would make him highly uncomfortable. Please. I have some respect for people.”

Malcolm rubbed his hands on his thighs, clearly debating whether he should just leave. Not that the woods would let him go. “Where’s the booze?” he ended up asking. Silently, Milo handed him a jug. Malcolm took it, used to the shape of this particular bottle, uncapping it and taking a large swig.

Gabriel was eyeing it suspiciously. “Is that moonshine?”

“I like to call it lantern shine,” Milo grinned. “Get it? ‘Cause it’s made by the light of the lanterns.”

“Milo and I used to get drunk off it when we were younger,” Hazel said, her blush looking a bit more green at the sight of the old jug. “Malcolm would supervise.”

Milo barked out a laugh. “He would not! You’d pass out early in the night and he’d get you tucked in so he could drink me under the table.”

“I find it hard to believe anyone can drink more than you,” Belladonna commented.

“You haven’t met Feebus.” A soft smile came over Bella’s face as she recalled something fondly. It took Milo a moment before he began groaning. “Oh, fuck. You have met Feebus.”

She laughed loudly, reaching into the small basket by her side and pulling out her bottle of ‘wine’. The neck of the bottle had a curved serpent skirting around the glass, the mouth opening wide in an unhinged maw to drink from.

“I like the lovely Hazel’s idea. I think we should tell stories,” Belladonna said softly. “I am curious to see what everyone comes up with. How imaginative everyone is.”

Hazel was rubbing her hands together. “The spookiest stories we know,” she claimed. “So spooky we won’t be able to leave the woods without running and screaming.”

“I do not run and scream,” Gabriel said.

Milo tipped his bottle towards him. “I would pay good money for that.”

Malcolm sighed, slipping down the log to sit with his back against it. He tipped his head back a little. “Button, go first then. You’re the story teller of this group.”

Milo rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Where should I begin? It was a dark and spooky night…”