“Sure,” he said, completely nonchalant.

“Get it out of here, David!”

“Hey, hey, come on,” he said, quickly stowing the gun in a concealed holster at the small of his back. “It’s not like I’ve ever done it before. Your house is safe…well, as safe as anything is these days. But”—he glanced around the room as if he expected someone to be there, listening—“we’re having Chelsea and Ryan over tonight. And you freaking out about Halloween is making me freak out a little bit too. I wanted to be ready in case…just in case. Honestly, I thought it might make you feel a little more secure. Obviously I was wrong.”

He looked up and met Laurel’s eyes, her glare warring with his apologetic but determined gaze. She faltered first. “I’m sorry. I just hate those things.”

He hesitated. “If you really want me to, I’ll take it out to the car.”

What he said about being ready did make sense. But her hatred of the gun won out. “I would appreciate that,” she said quietly. The shrill chiming of the doorbell made Laurel jump. “They’re here,” she said, frustrated. “Just keep that thing out of sight for now,” she ordered. “I don’t want to see it again.”

She got as far as the kitchen doorway before David grabbed her arm. “Your blossom,” he whispered. “I’ll get the ones on the floor.”

“Crap. Be right there!” Laurel yelled toward the front door. She unwound the sash from her wrist and hurriedly replaced it around her waist. She just had to get the limp petals out of sight; she could steal away to the bathroom later and do a more graceful job.

David disposed of the petals she’d left on the floor while Laurel opened the front door to Chelsea and Ryan with a smile she hoped didn’t look too fake. “Hey, guys.”

They were wearing silly grins and neon headbands, complete with glowing eyes bobbing over their heads at the ends of long springs.

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “Impressive,” she said dryly.

“Not as impressive as that,” Chelsea said, pointing over Laurel’s shoulder.

“What?” Laurel said, whipping her head around, suddenly panicked that her petals were sticking up. As soon as she did, something snapped onto the sides of her head and she rolled her eyes upward to see her own set of googley eyes, swaying in and out of view. “Thanks,” she drawled sarcastically.

“Aw, come on,” Chelsea said. “They’re fun!”

Laurel turned to Ryan, eyebrow raised.

“Don’t look at me,” he said. “This was all Chelsea’s idea.”

“Okay, I’ll wear them,” Laurel said with a conspiratorial grin. “As long as you brought a set for David, too.”

Chelsea held up a fourth headband.

“Perfect.” She pulled Chelsea in and peered out at the dusk as she shut the door behind Ryan.

TWENTY-ONE

THE MORNING AIR WAS COLD AND SHARP, THE sun merely a bright pink shadow working its way up the cloudy eastern horizon. Laurel shrugged into her jacket on the front porch and pulled her keys out of her pocket, trying to make as little noise as possible.

“Where are you going?”

Laurel shrieked and dropped her keys. So much for stealth.

“Sorry,” her dad said, poking his head out the front door. His hair was sticking out every which way and he looked groggy—he never had been one for mornings. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay,” Laurel said, bending to pick up her keys. “I’m just going to Chelsea’s.” She could have told her dad where she was actually going, but it was easier this way. Less chance of David accidentally finding out.

“Oh, that’s right, you told us that last night. Why so early?”

“Chelsea’s got a date with Ryan tonight,” Laurel said, the lie rolling off her tongue. She wondered if this was getting too easy. “We’ll need all the time we can get.”

“Well, get going, then. Have fun,” her dad said with a yawn. “I’m going back to bed.”

Laurel hurried to her car and backed out as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself. The sooner she was out of town, the better.

In the end, she’d decided not to tell David. She hated lying but didn’t know what else to do. He’d be too worried; maybe insist she skip it.

Or accompany her with that stupid gun of his.

She hated that she now knew he carried it around with him. Logically she couldn’t blame him—he didn’t have even the rudimentary defenses that she did—but several times last night she had seen him start to reach for the hidden holster when someone knocked on the door. Which, being Halloween, had happened every few minutes. It was better if she just didn’t tell him where she was going. They were both too wound up.

She hadn’t come up with a good excuse for Chelsea, so she wouldn’t tell Chelsea anything at all. With luck, David would never miss her and Chelsea wouldn’t be consulted. She’d leave the festival early, if she had to. And not just to get back before David got off work; she didn’t want to be anywhere but safe in her house when night fell.

There was no traffic on the way to Orick, but Laurel still kept a sharp eye on the sides of the road and her rearview mirror, watching for any sign she was being followed. She pulled into Orick’s lone gas station and, after studying the parking lot, ran inside and hurried into the bathroom. She opened her backpack and pulled out the dress. She hadn’t worn it except to try it on; now, as she slipped the rustling fabric over her head and adjusted it around her slim body, a thrill of excitement rushed through her. Her final few petals had fallen out during the night, and her back was smooth and ivory, a tiny scarlike line down the middle, just like last year. After peeking out of the bathroom to make sure the convenience store was still mostly empty, Laurel darted back to her car, her skirts swishing around her ankles and flip-flop clad feet. From there it was only minutes to the end of the cabin’s long driveway. She parked her car behind a large fir, concealing it from the main road.