Chapter 1

Epilogue

About Rafe JadisonPROLOGUE

Seamus O’Donnell waited not so patiently behind the

old Volvo in the grocery store parking lot on that cold last night

in October. It was just past five, but already it was getting

dark.

“Come on. I don’t have all day!” he shouted

in the car, somewhat glad that the windows were up and that the

driver in front of him couldn’t hear his rant.

He didn’t normally act this way, but what he

said was correct. Most twenty-six-year-olds had a whole life time

in front of them. That was because twenty-six-year-olds were

supposed to live forever, but as usual, Seamus O’Donnell, was

moving to the beat of his own drum.

The old Volvo station wagon finally turned

and Seamus pulled the rental car into the only open spot on that

row, the very last one. He rushed from the car and into the store.

Pumpkins decorated the store’s exterior, and as he passed through

the glass doors a plastic cat hissed at him while a decorative

scarecrow said, “Happy Halloween.”

He rushed to the small counter near the

produce where he knew this store sold its flowers. He scanned the

cellophane wrapped bouquets and grabbed one full of fall flowers.

He thought for a moment that it was the perfect blend of brown and

gold with just a hint of red. His mother would love this

assortment.

Anxious to get home, he practically sprinted

to the counter. There was only one person ahead of him and he

approached the aisle quickly. On a small table between the aisles a

Grim Reaper doll sprang to life and quickly cackled at Seamus.

Without thinking, Seamus swung his hand at

the doll, knocking it off the table.

“Fuck you!” he yelled at the doll as it lie

on the floor looking up at him.

Seamus could feel his foot raise in the air,

but just as he was ready to stomp the doll, a gentle hand grabbed

his arm.

“What’s wrong, Seamus?” a soothing woman’s

voice asked.

Seamus moved his foot back and slowly placed

it on the ground. He turned toward the voice and looked at Mrs.

Oliver. What the fuck was wrong with him? Had he really just

attacked a doll?

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Oliver. I don’t know what’s

wrong with me today.”

His answer wasn’t entirely the truth, and he

realized that as the words came out of his mouth. He knew what was

bothering him. The good news was that it wouldn’t be bothering him

for much longer. At least that’s what the doctors had said.

“Are you still living in Manhattan, honey?”

Mrs. Oliver asked.

“Yes, Mrs. Oliver. I just came home for the

holiday.”

“Oh, that’s right. Your family does

something special tonight for Halloween.”

“Well, yes, but we actually call it

Samhain,” Seamus said.

Only in Massachusetts would it not be

peculiar to sit in the middle of a grocery store and talk about how

his family celebrated an ancient pagan holiday. Here it was in

vogue. Tourists came from nearby towns, and sometimes larger

cities, to watch the circle his family’s coven cast every year, and

to participate in the activities put on at his family farm. It was

good for all the businesses in town, especially the restaurants and

hotels, and Seamus imagined that the grocery store sold its fair

share of talking Halloween dolls every year thanks to the

coven.

“Well, you’re probably just stressed from

all the hustle and bustle of New York, Seamus,” Mrs. Oliver said.

“It’s good you’re coming home to relax with your parents for a bit.

I bet those flowers are for your mother. Why don’t you just take

them home? They’re on me.”

“I couldn’t do that,” Seamus protested. “I

should probably buy that doll from you also.”

“Nonsense, you run along and don’t worry

about this doll. It’s still in good shape and it’ll sell later.

You’ll be in good shape too when you get some fresh air and relax

back home for a bit. I may be swinging by your place later to watch

the festivities anyway.”

Seamus started to protest more, but he could

tell from the look in Mrs. Oliver’s eye that it would do no good.

He had known her as long as he could remember, and his family had

always shopped at her store. She may have thought he was acting

like a raving lunatic tonight, but she didn’t show it and Seamus

knew that she liked him.

“Thanks, Mrs. Oliver,” he said, and headed

toward the exit.

As he approached the doors, the cat hissed

at him again, and the scarecrow wished him a happy Halloween, but

when he reached the doors they stayed shut. He moved his hands in

front of the sensor, trying not to look any more crazy than he

already had, but it seemed the faster he moved his hands, the more

futile his efforts became. The electronic door refused to open. He

backed up, and walked up to it again. Still nothing.