A/N: This story is all deathcurse's fault. In her review for "Tome of Eldritch Omake" chapter 17, the Queen of Tragedy said that now we needed to see trick-or-treating. So...here we are (although as you can tell from all the girls being eight, this story is about the next year's trick-or-treating, not the one from "Putting on the Dog")!

~X X X~

"Now, everyone, stay together and on the path," said Eliza Livingston nervously, not in the least because the gargoyles perched on the gateposts seemed to be leering down at her with flame-filled eye sockets, the burning torches in their mouths ready to lash out and cook a meal of roast governess. Or maybe it was the way the wrought-iron gates swung open before the group on their own, instead of being opened by a porter the way they usually were. Or maybe it was the growling noise from off in the darkness that was probably from the dragons in their stables. Probably. Or maybe it was—

Well, it could have been any number of things, really, about the Mage Consul's estate on Hallow's Eve that made Miss Livingston nervous.

"We know, Miss Lizzy," said her primary charge, Marcia Tempranillo, currently costumed as a fairy princess. "We visit here all the time." It was too dark to see if she actually rolled her eyes, but she put all the exasperation that a child of eight could muster with a tiresome situation into her tone. The three other neighborhood children made loud "Mm-hm"s of assent, ad they all scurried up the winding drive to a stately mansion. Jenny Smithwick scurried forward and hammered on the knocker. A tall, ash-blonde woman in the white linen bodice and kilt edged with hammered gold jewelry of a noble of the Ancient East opened the door to the group.

"Good evening, Miss Virgine," Jenny said. "Is Cress ready?"

Before Amoretta Virgine could answer, her daughter burst out from around the corner into the foyer.

"Hi, Jenny! Hi, Marcia! Hi, Erin! Hi, Marcel!" Cressidor Blan-Virgine squealed happily. Then, since she'd been raised to show good manners, she added, "Good evening, Miss Lizzy."

"That's a great costume, Cress," Marcia said, admiring her werewolf outfit.

"Thanks! Mama and I worked on it for hours. It took a long time to get the mouth right so I could talk, but she didn't think it'd be any fun to cheat and use magic." She grinned, showing the fangs her other mother was justly proud of making for her.

Meanwhile, Amoretta turned back into the house. "Lillet," she called, "Cress's friends are here, and we're going to get going." She'd agreed to go along with Miss Livingston to shepherd the kids with a second set of adult eyes.

"Oh, all right." Cress's other mother was dressed as a witch, not a particularly imaginative costume since that was what she actually was—indeed, as Mage Consul, she was the government minister in overall charge of magicians and magical practice in the kingdom. "Have fun, both of you." She bent and gave Cress and hug and kissed the top of her head, then proceeded to embarrass Cressidor awfully (and gave the other kids the giggles) by getting mushy with Amoretta with a tight embrace and a soft, lingering kiss on the lips. "I'll see you soon, little love, even if I am terribly jealous of you."

"You went with Cressidor last year," Amoretta refused to surrender happy motherhood memories by even an inch.

"Oh, fine, be fair about it," Lillet said with a mock pout. "But before you go, isn't there one thing you're all forgetting?"

"Forgetting?" Cress and the other children looked at each other in confusion. "I don't think so..."

"Ah!" Marcia got it, clapping her hands. She turned to Lillet, held out her sack, and chanted, "Trick or treat!"

"Trick or treat!" the others immediately chorused.

There was a sound like a small herd of elephants rumbling over the floors, and Cress's dog responded to his cue by running through the foyer and up to the door. Shuck didn't really need a Hallow's Eve costume, since the barghest was tall enough to put his chin flat on Lillet's head, with jet-black fur and burning red eyes. The effect was somewhat spoiled by the fact that his massive jaws were delicately closed around the handle of a wicker basket from which protruded the sticks of Lillet's homemade caramel apples. The kids helped themselves eagerly, Cress's mother better known among them for her sweets than she was for her magic.

"Thanks, Shuck!" Marcia said, and patted the huge beast on the nose. He dropped the basket (thankfully caught by Lillet before the remaining apples spilled) and dragged his huge, flaming tongue across her face, making her giggle. As she mopped canine saliva with her sleeve, though, she heard a soft thump from behind her, and turned around to look.

"Miss Lizzy!" she wailed. "You'll get your costume all dirty if you faint in people's front walks."

"And we'll be late!" Cress added.

"I just don't understand people who don't like dogs!" Jenny summed up everyone's feelings.

~X X X~

A/N: Surprisingly, caramel isn't even anachronistic for the approximate time period I use for the cultural/tech level of the setting. Really, it's kind of amazing, how many odd facts I learn by doing casual background research for these stories. And remember, the flaming tongue isn't literally on fire. Miss Lizzy really ought to remember that by now.