Page 34 of Halloween Town

But Luna was already jogging down the steps. She swung onto her bike, fired the engine, and grinned back at them. “You have a couple of days to wrap your head around it, because it’s happening Friday night,’ she shouted over the sound of the bike’s growly engine. ‘After the Lantern Dedication Walk.”

With that order, she was gone.

Thom stared at the ticket in his hand and flicked it with his thumb. “We’re not going,” he said.

“Of course we aren’t,” Hayes replied—but without conviction. “She can’t make us, we’re adults.”

Hadley snorted. “Pfft, you all know you’re gonna go. None of you is brave enough to defy Luna.”

Thom had the sinking feeling she was right.

Chapter Seven

Poppy

H-Town’s Lantern Dedication Walk was a long-standing tradition, one from Luna’s very first Halloween event over a decade ago. As Poppy walked between Wren and Hadley—Thom, Dane, Hayes, and Luna trailing behind—she decided it was one of those events that appeared gentle and whimsical on the surface but carried real weight if you let yourself look closer.

At dusk, just when night started creeping into town, the church bells would call both residents and tourists to the town square. From there, the procession wound its way through the streets, eventually spilling out onto Lantern Beach.

There, the crowd paused for a quiet acknowledgement of unfinished stories—fractured relationships, grief carried too long, people quietly losing their way beneath careful smiles. The Lantern Dedication wasn’t about letting things go or wishes and prayers. H- Town already had the Bonfire of the Bewitched for that.

The ritual itself was simple. Each participant chose a lantern—made from recycled paper, naturally—and wrote a single name on its side. Not their own, but the name of someone they loved, worried about, missed, or hoped might somehow find their footing again Someone they’d misunderstood—or who’d misunderstood them right back. A connection that needed reestablishing.

Beneath the name, they added an action. To have a conversation. Issue an apology. Attempt a second chance. Forgiveness. Honesty. Or a simple admission, even if it was only to themselves.

Simple, really.

But Poppy knew that simple didn’t mean easy. She pushed her hands into the pockets of her leather bomber jacket and looked up at the sky, washed in bruised purples and blues, with hints of orange and pink. To her, it felt like it was holding its breath, waiting to see what the humans would come up with, or whether they would be, as they frequently were, disappointing and trivial.

She heard the rumble of Thom’s deep voice behind her and stared straight ahead, trying not to eavesdrop on his conversation with Hayes and Dane. Since their kiss a few days ago, Poppy had been hyper-aware of Thom—swinging between being overly casual and exiting whatever room he walked into as soon as she could without making it obvious. At this rate, he was probably wondering if she had a split personality.

But if someone could explain how to act after you kissed your ex’s estranged brother—a kiss she couldn’t stop thinking about and replaying—that would be great.

Since they’d locked lips, Thom had grown quieter. More controlled and more distant, and he’d been plenty reticent before. Poppy was convinced he thought the kiss was a mistake. He went out of his way to avoid touching her, almost treating her like she was radioactive. When they did talk, they both kept things polite and light—it felt like they were both trapped in a badly-written soap opera, desperately pretending the whole thing hadn’t happened.

Except she couldn’t erase the fact that the kiss had felt real in a way that kissing Benji never had. At the time, it had simply felt … right.

And that was a problem. Was this just rebound attraction—her trying to slot someone in Benji’s place, to find the place in the world she’d lost when she ran out on the wedding? Or was it because Thom had always been on her side? Even when they were young, he’d been the one person who made her feel accepted. Was kissing him just her adult version of reaching for that again?

And that was why she’d write his name on her lantern, along with something along the lines of trying to figure out whether she was attracted to him…or to the safety she felt when she was with him.

Poppy resisted the urge to scrub her hands over her face, knowing it would draw attention. And if someone asked what was wrong, what would she even say? That she felt guilty for accepting Benji’s proposal for the wrong reasons? Guilty for being weak? For using him? Guilty for kissing Thom so soon afterward? Guilty for being so fundamentally flawed that she always needed validation?

Maybe she was overthinking, overanalyzing—giving their kiss, their mutual attraction far too much mental bandwidth. But one core truth remained: she needed to keep her distance. If one kiss could cause this much emotional havoc, going further was terrifying.

Every relationship in her life—except Wren—had been contingent on her playing a role. But what if Thom was the only other exception? What if wanting him felt exactly like it was meant to? What then?

Jerked out of her thoughts by Hadley’s elbow in her ribs, Poppy looked at her young friend, frowning at her somber expression. “What’s wrong, Hads?” she asked.

Hadley sent her a shaky smile. “She’s here. The biker ghost from Solstice Deep.”

Poppy immediately took Hadley’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Does she scare you?” she asked. If this ghost was hassling Hadley, she’d step through the veil herself and take her on. Nobody messed with Hadley.

Hadley smiled and shook her head. “I don’t think she’s even noticed me. No, she’s fixated on you.”

And didn’t that sound a little creepy? “Is she someone I should worry about?”

“No. I get the sense that she thinks you are a puzzle she can’t work out.”