Chapter Text
Women of 300 Fox Way were women of principles.
One of their many principles was this: they never celebrated Halloween.
Blue had always thought that this approach was only logical. While everyone around them scared their children and each other with pointed hats, fake fangs and toy spiders, Maura, Calla, Orla and everyone living under the same roof with Blue played a part of boogeywomen 24/7. Halloween could have been the day for locking the doors and pretending to be a normal family if not for the drastically raising demand. Every person known for not believing in magic, ghosts and spirits appeared at their doorstep on All Hallows Eve.
They never celebrated Halloween. Well, despite being a woman of principles herself, Blue was preparing to do exactly this. She looked out the window - Gansey was coming to get her in about forty minutes - and suddenly imagined leaving the only undecorated house in the neighbourhood in this dress of hers that she made herself for the party. She felt sick. She shook her head, letting a couple loose strands and a bright pin fall out of her hairdo, composed herself and went downstairs.
“Will you have lunch with us?” Calla called out from the kitchen.
“No. We’re going to eat at Monmouth. Gansey promised to order a pizza and then we will decorate it together with whatever they have left in their fridge,” Blue answered, tidying her hair. “Afterwards we will watch horror movies. I think Gansey hates horror movies, but he’s never going to admit it. Are you finally having a break?”
“Yeah. Nobody’s going to come for another thirty minutes. I hope the devil doesn’t bring anyone here now.”
She jinxed herself, of course. The doorbell rang twice.
“Don’t open it,” Orla pleaded from one of the many rooms, but Blue had already crossed the corridor, placed her hand on the door handle and turned it. And immediately regretted not having listened to Orla.
“Hiya. Ronan isn’t here.”
She forced a smile, controlling every vowel and consonant she was producing. Every sound was getting ready to turn its back to the guest and kick him in the guts. Out of all the people living in Henrietta Blue was least happy to see Joseph Kavinsky.
“Of course he isn’t. I want to talk to my mother,” he answered.
“Don’t tell me that one of the women here is your mother. I don’t think I can…”
“She is dead, Sargent. I want to talk to her,” he interrupted her impatiently. She wanted to lie to him about being short on time or space. She wanted to lie to him about anything, in fact, to be rude at him and she certainly didn’t want to let him inside. If not for Ronan, she would have kept avoiding him. But… I shouldn’t be like this, she thought every time she happened to be in the same room with him. But he still hasn’t become a part of our group. He isn’t even trying, is he? She looked him over from head to foot. He did the same.
“Is this your costume?” he wondered.
“That’s not your business,” she snarled resentfully. She was already wishing that she hadn’t bothered making up this dress. No one was going to get the metaphor behind it. And she was starting to feel too hot in it. Sweat stains were definitely not going to make the dress look any prettier. “Seances cost double today.”
“The fuck?” he exclaimed. She wanted to start a row with him even more. I don’t like your face, Joseph Kavinsky, that’s why, she wanted to say, but pretended to be sorry instead.
“It’s always more expensive when you want something done on the same day. Today is no exception. So?”
Say no. Say no. Say no.
He shrugged and nodded, reluctantly. She nodded, too.
“Come in then.”
She led him into a small dark stuffy room and went to get Orla and Calla.
“There’s one of my… Not so very good friends from Aglionby,” she reported and Orla went ahead to take a look at him.
“You seem to be collecting the raven boys, aren't you?” Calla chuckled and stopped at the doorstep. “Ah. The snake’s lover.”
“The snake’s?” he drawled back, not showing any surprise at the word ‘lover’, though.
“Is there at least one…” Orla started, but Blue hit her shoulder.
“Shut up, you. You, sit here, near the door. Orla, sit on the right and Calla, will you sit on his left?”
Blue settled across from Kavinsky at the round table and gave her hands to Calla and Orla. Joseph did the same without a hitch and they formed a circle.
“How did she die? Your mother,” Orla mused.
“She took vicodin and fell from the stairs. I found her when I came home from hospital in summer. The paramedics said she spent a week lying there. I haven’t slept there since,” he answered, not stopping for breath.
“Wow. Spooky. I like everything spooky,” Orla smiled enthusiastically.
“I want to talk to her. If she died high, will she be able to speak? Does she even know she’s dead? She wasn’t quite herself for the last few years.”
“I don’t have an answer for you, lover. We will call her and maybe she will be kind enough to come. We will be talking using one of us and the so-called medium will transmit everything she will be saying. Don’t cut off the circle or we will have to start over. All right?” Calla explained. He nodded. Blue hadn’t taken her eyes of him this whole time. Died high. Not surprising, she thought and told herself off for malevolence. But then repeated, not being able to stop. Not surprising.
“What was her name?”
“Lala. Lala Kavinsky.”
“We summon you, Lala Kavinsky’s spirit. Come and communicate with us like those alive communicate with those alike them.”
“We summon you,” Orla and Blue repeated after her.
“We summon you,” Joseph muttered under his breath. A flame of a lone candle, reflected in his dark brown eyes, blinked and danced. And then...