Page 21 of Haunt Me, Maybe

The next morning, I still hadn’t shaken my anxiety. The threat of Gideon had always hung over my neck, like a guillotine restrained by a fraying rope, but last night was the first time I’d felt that threat here. Or, at least the first time I’d acknowledged the threat here. Amber Grove was a pocket of peace I thought I’d successfully infiltrated.

It wasn’t hiding me as well as I thought.

Stop, Fenn ordered. Working yourself up will only help your magic slip its leash.

His eyes watched me in the mirror with a stern glint as I pulled the brush through my hair one last time. I set it on the counter with a sigh.

“He said he felt me, Fenn. Even with your help absorbing what leaked out!”

Ghosts are weird. I wouldn’t put much stock in how they interact with magic. Especially that one.

I rolled my eyes, not entirely convinced Fenn didn’t have a blind spot as far as Wes was concerned. He might have missed warning signs in favor of invalidating anything that came from our resident specter’s mouth. I trusted my familiar more than I trusted myself sometimes…but…there was a heavy presence around this place I could no longer ignore.

I felt it in my dreams. Was it Gideon getting closer to finding me, or the strange sentient magic that infiltrated select places in this town? Unfortunately, I could do nothing about it; we weren’t ready to leave. I hadn’t saved enough money. Grabbing my satchel from the hook, I headed to the kitchen for a quick bowl of cereal.

There was a designated cabinet with my name on it now, and my stomach was grateful for the break in protein bars, even if it was only for Fruit Loops. Mrs. Haverly found me rinsing my bowl and less than subtly pushed for me to check out more of the town.

“Sunhallow Farms is one of our biggest draws this time of year,” she pressed. “And Old Bram makes the best apple cider donuts you’ll find.”

Fenn perked up at the mention of donuts and nudged my foot beneath the table. Honestly, I didn’t need convincing. I came here because I wanted to feel normal, and no amount of second-guessing was going to stop me. What was more normal than visiting a farm and participating in farm activities? Whatever those were.

“You mentioned it was within walking distance?” I asked, throwing my bag over my shoulder once more.

“Oh, yes, yes! Take a right off the porch and follow the road to the edge of town.”

Seemed simple enough. It was nearly impossible to get lost in Amber Grove; it was just too small. The sun shone bright and determined as I hit the sidewalk, a perfect complement to the playful breeze teasing the fallen leaves that gathered in piles. Each house I passed was small but loved.

The front yards were trimmed but not fussy; neat but not meticulous. Jack-o’-lanterns were stationed on porch steps and garden gates, and a few swings swayed as I passed, with no one sitting in them. More dried leaves skittered along the sidewalk, colors of gold, copper, and rust catching against my ankles before darting away again.

Some were lost under the crunch of my boots and against fences as the houses spread further apart. Here, at the edge of town, the lawns softened into fields. The sidewalk remained but narrowed and gave way to packed earth and gravel. Despite the extra space, the maple and oak trees crowded closer, their leaves draped over leaning fences strung with fairy lights.

The road curved ahead, and suddenly the town felt like it was behind me without ever having said goodbye. A small covered bridge marked the separation, and on the other side, Sunhallow Farms stretched out in neat, welcoming disorder.

Rows of pumpkins in every shade of orange disappeared on one half, while the other shone golden where corn stalks rustled. Strings of light bulbs swayed over my head and above those sitting at the picnic tables.

I slowed and took it all in: the cider steam drifting from a kettle, the hand-painted sign pointing to the entrance of a maze, and another one promising hayrides in the other direction. I picked the maze, and Fenn poked his head out of my bag as we approached.

Corn maze ahead. Expect mischief. He grunted like a true skeptic. Cute.

I smiled. “I’ll take mischief over ghosts lecturing me.”

From behind, a cold line rolled through the long grass. I knew Wes had followed, as if he would let me out of his sight after his accusations yesterday. It was whatever. As long as he kept silent, I could still pretend I was a normal girl on a normal outing.

He heard you, Fenn warned, voice smug.

I shrugged. Let him. Despite the anxiety associated with our last conversation, I felt myself unwinding here. Almost as if my body recognized it as safe. Feet lined up at the entrance, the corn stalks reached high above my head and offered only a single path forward. Above me, the sky was an impossible autumn blue, sharp and clean. I took one step and then another, pushing myself further until the farm fell away and I’d reached the rounded-out spot that marked the start of the maze.

Instantly, I felt something take notice. The corn gracefully rearranged itself. It wasn’t dangerous or wild, but definitely aware. Just like the café, only stronger; as if more magic pooled here than throughout the rest of the town. How did I keep finding these places?

Fenn hopped out and took a cautious sniff. This place is very old.

“How old?” I asked, side-eyeing a bunch of stalks that weren’t that close a second ago.

Old enough to respect. He pushed against my shins, a direct but silent order for me to turn back. I’m not sure this was a good idea.

The maze had other plans. Corn moved, earth churned, and the pathway back was gone in the blink of an eye. Surrounded on all sides, there was nothing to do but push forward and hope we wouldn’t be eaten by a sentient labyrinth.

So much for normal.