[A note from the author: I updated chapters 29 and 30 at the same time, so make sure not to skip 29 by accident. My analytics are indicating this may have confused some people. I've put the same note in chapter 30 for those who haven't already skipped 29. For clarity, this is chapter 31.]

The McCarthy family cemetery was vast and well-tended, surrounded by a tall gate and rows of thick trees that gave it the illusion of being cut off from the world. If you followed the main pathway far enough, you'd come to a grand gate that opened up to allow hearses and visitors in.

Beyond it was the McCarthy estate, which was currently surrounded by costumed children skipping school and their families having their own Halloween bash among the living. Lovers shared sweet treats, kids ran amok, and theatre goths enjoyed running the best haunted house within three hundred miles. They had a climbable hay bale tower, an elaborate corn maze, a traveling carnival, the works. There was something for everyone, and the McCarthy's had been running the event for generations. It was where her witch mother and wealthy father had first met.

Elida had modeled her All Hallows Eve party on the childhood memories she kept from the sacred pagan holiday of Samhain. She could recall her father coming up to her as a five-year-old and asking if she wanted a pony ride or a carousel. When she said both, he'd laughed, and told her she had to choose. It was both a lesson in decision-making and a happy memory of love and family.

One year she'd set the entire hay tower on fire by mistake and had ended up grounded for a week. She loved Samhain.

As she grew older, she better understood her mother's contribution to the event. She'd learned witchcraft from her mother, who had learned it from her mother, and so on down the matriarchal line. If Elida had lived long enough to have a daughter, she'd have taught her as well. The odd practice of preparing mountains of food, only to leave it outside the family mausoleum to rot made no sense to young Elida, until her mother had told her about sacrifices for the dead.

"These are gifts for the spirits and those who have passed," her mother had said, "and one day, when you join our fallen sisters in the grave, you'll appreciate why I leave these here."

Once, Elida had snuck a bite of apple tart off the sacrificial tables when she thought her mother wasn't looking. She'd been caught and forced to bake three new ones to make up for it. "We don't steal," Mother had chided, "especially not from the dead."

And now, Elida was the dead, so she enjoyed as much of her mother's apple tart as she wanted. "Here, try this," she held a piece out for Alastor to try. "My mom made it."

He took the bite, eating it out of her hand and scrutinizing the flavor. "Delectable," he decided. "I don't suppose she taught you the recipe?"

"She did, but I don't remember it," she said sadly, "I'll ask her when she dies. Hopefully it'll take a long time."

"The book Ma gave me had a recipe for apple tart. Perhaps we could try hers," Alastor thought aloud, taking another piece.

"We could make it together!" Elida exclaimed, perhaps a little too delighted with the idea.

"I've been considering going through and making each recipe in the book, one by one, in order. Would you like to join me?" he asked, picturing Elida in an apron and all covered in flour, just like his mama often was.

"That sound like a blast," she agreed, "anything to get more of those beignets again."

"Well, if you want beignets, all you need to do is ask," he patted her on the head.

Alastor wondered if it was a good enough time to tell Elida the truth, but he decided it would be best to wait until the event was further along. Or maybe when it was over. Or maybe never. He'd promised to handle the music, and if the conversation went badly, he'd either have to leave and abandon his post, or avoid her for the rest of the day.

Maybe he'd tell her after they got home. He could make her a nice homemade meal and butter her up a bit before dropping the bombshell. That could work. He could lock himself in his tower if she got angry and refuse to come out until the ice in the air disappeared.

He told himself he wasn't chickening out. Just… being strategic. Yes. Strategic.

An old, hunched-over man in pajamas and bare feet approached Elida for a little friendly conversation. Leaning on the shovel he'd be forced to carry around for the day, Alastor adjusted his specs and studied Elida's human form as she talked with the stranger.

She wore a thick coat and a Santa hat, which was a bit silly to see among all the autumn decorations. A tacky light-up necklace of plastic string lights blinked on and off around her neck; some of them were crushed, likely from the impact of the truck that had killed her. Blood ran down one side of her head from beneath the cap, and ice clung to her knees and back, refusing to melt in its eternal chill. It was no wonder she was always so cold. It was hilariously ironic how she had such an affinity with flames, enough so to have a statue erected depicting her as such, and yet she was a walking blizzard.

A younger soul in a designer dress with self-harm cuts on her wrists approached Alastor. "That you, Radio Dickhead?" the cocky British accent of one of Hell's sovereign overlords asked him.

Alastor turned to see a teenage version of Velvette taking a snack from the table as she looked him over. She didn't look too different from her demonic form, making her easy to recognize, despite the age difference. The reflection of a white ring light glowed in her eyes. She smelled like blood and perfume.

"Salutations," he greeted with his signature grin, "Do try the apple tart."

"Cut the shit," she snipped at him, "Where's the Ambassador?"

"Good to see you too!" he quipped cheerily.

"If you don't know, just say so, so we can both fuck off somewhere else."

"Well now, I didn't say that." He popped a roasted pumpkin seed into his mouth. "She's over there, chatting with the wrinkly gentleman."

Velvette brushed past him and shoved the old man aside. He fell to the ground with a surprised yelp. She started talking before anyone could react, "So this is what witches do on Halloween? I've gotta say I thought there would be more creepy shit."

"Excuse you," Elida said indignantly, reaching down to help the old man back up. "You okay, honey?" she asked him.

He brushed off the dirt that wasn't on his pajamas. "Fine. Who's this?"

"Velvette," Vel said, "Now fuck off. The Ambassador has better shit to talk about than whatever the Hell your old ass was just saying to her."

"I was rather interested in his story, actually," Elida corrected. "Please don't do that again, this is a peaceful event." Velvette hadn't harmed the man, so the spell keeping her there didn't break, but if he'd gotten so much as a bruise she'd have disappeared in an instant and gone right back to Hell.

Velvette ignored the Ambassador. She just needed to stop being such a goody-two-shoes. "Ha! As if. No, I came over here ask if you wanted to join the boys and I on a little outing. You said we needed a witch with us if we left the cemetery, and we figured you'd be the best one to do some exploring."

"Exploring where?"

"You tell us. It's your hometown, isn't it? We want to see what makes Hell's Sweetheart tick."

"Come back when my friend here has finished what he had to say," Elida said, turning back to the old man.

"Oh, it's alright," the man said, "you go right ahead, miss, I'll just have a chat with that smiling fellow over there for a bit instead."

Alastor made small talk with the old man. It was strange being around people who viewed him as just another face, rather than a terror and a celebrity. He listened politely for a few moments until he saw Velvette leading Elida away. "Well now, where do you think you're headed?" he asked, interrupting his guest mid-sentence.

"Fuck you, old man," Velvette said, "We're going wherever we want."

"Darling," he turned to Elida, "May I remind you about the little incident from earlier?" he patted his own ribs, not knowing if the wrinkly man listening was an angel or a demon, "We have yet to get to the bottom of it. I don't think it's wise to go gallivanting about alone, do you?"

"I won't be alone," she pointed out, "I'll be with three other people."

"Three pretty strong people, if I do say so myself," Vel added, examining her pristine red nails.

Alastor narrowed his eyes at Velvette, his smile widening a bit in irritation. "At least tell us when you'll be returning so I can send the cavalry should your escorts be less than gracious to you?"

"They can't hurt me, Allie, not here," Elida said. "If they try, they'll just be sent back home."

"There are ways to harm someone without causing damage," he warned ominously.

"What a creepy thing to say," the old man in pajamas muttered under his breath.

Elida placed a hand on Alastor's cheek. His concern was touching, but unwarranted. She gave him a soft kiss on his nose. He wanted to tilt his head just a little and catch her lips. Somehow, he resisted, but it was really really hard. There was nothing he could do about the reddening in his cheeks.

"I'll be okay. I won't be leaving my own party for too long," she assured him, "I'll send a signal to the Hag if something goes wrong, and you can come save the day. Sound good?"

"Hm. Fair enough," he shrugged. "But don't forget your smile, love. It's a holiday, after all!"

She obliged, offering him a happy grin and a wave, "I'll see you later. Try not to traumatize anyone while I'm gone!"

"Oh, I'll wait until you get back, then all bets are off," he joked. Well… half-joked.

He thought about stopping them, but the coven had assured him that the haunting spell enforced the no violence rule, so he let it be. He wanted to hear what Elida would say about their encounter afterwards. It could be interesting. If they were gone for too long, he'd have the Hag help him find her, just in case; distress signal or not.

"So," Elida asked Velvette as they walked off, "what happened there?" She pointed to the slices on Velvette's wrists.

"Offed myself during a livestream as a final 'fuck you' to my asshole parents after they forced me to film the same stupid YouTube video for the sixth time in a row. My cunt of a mum couldn't get it through her thick skull that I was done with her shit, and my twat dad couldn't be bothered to feed me that day. Said I had to stay thin for the viewers." Velvette said all this pretty casually, sipping on a pumpkin spice latte she'd taken from one of the coven-provided refreshment stalls. "I decided they weren't allowed to make videos of me anymore, so I got myself a one-way ticket to Hell and have been the one controlling the camera ever since."

"I hate that they put you through that," Elida said sympathetically, "children should be allowed to be children."

"Yeah, well, at least they never got to force me to make an OnlyFans. They'd been talking about it for a while. And when they die, I'll have a damn good time feeding those bitches to the dogs. What about you? What's with the Santa hat?" Velvette didn't actually care about what Elida was up to, but Vox insisted they all needed to cozy up to her.

"I died on Yule," Elida explained.

"Yule?"

"Christmas."

"Ha! No wonder you're an ice queen. Gotta say, I wouldn't be caught dead in that stupid necklace."

"I like to be festive now and again," Elida said sweetly. She wasn't offended; it was the necklace equivalent of an ugly Christmas sweater, and demons had a habit of being crass and blunt. Elida had gotten used to it.

Velvette walked up to join two men. One of them was poking one of the jack-o-lanterns with his foot, while the other scrolled through his phone, looking bored. Phone Guy gave off a bit of a silver fox vibe; the kind of person you'd see at a corporate networking event chatting up the receptionist. His hair was singed. It stood up on end, and the smell of smoke radiated from him. There was a burn mark on his shoulder and the occasional electrical spark darted from his feet into the ground when he moved.

Pumpkin Guy was in an incredibly tacky fur coat and some kind of gold-chain men's lingerie. There was a needle stuck in his arm and a bedazzled cigarette holder in his hand.

"I found her," Velvette announced, causing Phone Guy to look up.

"Ah, dear Elida, good to see you, as always," Vox's familiar voice spoke from the human man's lips. "I must say that was quite a display. Remind me not to get on your coven's bad side," he joked.

"Hold on," Val's voice called from Pumpkin Guy, "You're the one with the big-ass statue."

Elida grimaced again, "Yeah… I blame my dad. He goes hard on stuff like that. It's a bit cringe sometimes, but he means well."

"Wish I had one of those. Maybe I'll have someone make a big gold statue of me looking like my sexy self. I can put it right on top of V tower!" Val took a puff from the cigarette that was just as dead as he was.

"That's certainly a thing you could do," Elida agreed politely. "Personally, I prefer more subtlety in my decorative choices. Velvette says you want to explore?"

"Yes, we do!" Vox threw an arm over Elida's shoulders, "We were wondering if you'd be gracious enough to show us around your hometown." He began leading her toward the cemetery exit, "Since none of us can see what you get up to in Heaven, we thought this was the next best thing. What does the beautiful and clever Ambassador McCarthy do in her free time?" He wanted to get her alone for a bit, somewhere Alastor couldn't follow and interrupt.

"How curious of you," she remarked, letting him push her toward the edge of the deathly fairgrounds, "But when I come visit Earth, it's usually to check in on friends and family."

"You can just pop up to Earth whenever you feel like it?" Velvette asked, giving Elida a quizzical look.

"Sure," Elida shrugged, "For angels, visiting Earth is super easy."

"So who are we visiting, then?" Val asked.

"I'll tell you what," she said, "We can make an agreement. If we can find her within the next three hours, I'll take you to visit the girl I died for. In exchange, the three of you swear never to bother her, either in life or in death. Deal?"

Vox's grin grew wide like a cheshire cat. She was making deals with them now. That was progress. If he could get her comfortable enough with making small deals, and getting everything she wanted out of them, then he could gradually start to increase the stakes with each one until he was ready to tie the noose. She'd be perfectly groomed to agree when it came time to sell him her soul.

"Of course," he said, dripping with false friendliness, "You can trust us." He held out a hand and tried not to look as smug as he felt. She shook his hand, and then shook Velvette's and Val's. The deal was struck. Electric blue sparks flashed in Vox's eyes.

"What do you mean, 'the girl you died for'?" Val asked.

Elida explained to them the story of her death, showing them the same illusion she'd shown Alastor a year prior. Velvette laughed when the truck hit.

Vox took note of it with great interest. She was the kind of person who would lay down her life to save another person. He could use that. He just needed to find someone she loved enough to give up her soul for. If he could threaten them in just the right way, or maybe stage some sort of betrayal on their end, then he could manipulate Elida into doing something rash. He'd need to think hard on it; but if he pulled the right string she could break.

"The trouble is finding her," Elida mused. She ticked her fingers off, doing a bit of mental math. "Let's see," she muttered to herself, "It's in the morning, on a weekday, and she's got perfect attendance. So, she'll probably be in school. Based on how long it's been since I last visited, she'd either be…" She went over a list of schools in her mind, and calculated the grade she'd be in. "Midde school," she finally said. "She'd be in class, at the city's public middle school."

So, they walked to the nearest road, and waited for a bus to show up. Being ghosts, the driver couldn't see them waiting, so they simply let the bus run through them and attached themselves to the seats. When it arrived near the part of town the school was in, they faded through the bus again to land on the road, and walked the rest of the way.

As they headed toward the school, Val and Velvette were really laying it on thick with the flattery. Vox offered her his arm, which she took. They laughed and joked and chatted until they made it into the school's building. Elida cast a spell that drew a guiding light, showing them the way to the little girl's classroom. They followed it until they reached a colorful door covered in little paper ghosts and skeletons.

Phasing through the walls, Elida pointed out an appropriately awkward-looking tween girl with too many freckles. "That's Natalie. I bought a house next door to hers back when I was alive. She's a sweet kid. Very friendly and imaginative."

Natalie was sitting at her desk eating a bat-shaped chocolate bar someone had given her. Her notebook sat untouched on the desk while the students in the classroom all showed off their Halloween costumes. Natalie was dressed as a unicorn, complete with a rainbow tail and shoes that looked like hooves.

Velvette was bored. Val was leering like a creep. Vox was studying the girl closely.

A slow and almost devilish smile spread across Elida's face, "I have a fun idea," she said mysteriously. She walked to the front of the class, intentionally stepping through the teacher, who felt a sudden and inexplicable cold spot. He shivered, his breath puffing out in a thin white cloud.

"Ooo, who turned on the AC?" the teacher asked, wrapping his arms around himself. The open dry-erase marker in his hand left a blue spot on his shirt by accident.

"What are you doing?" Vox asked curiously.

"Just a friendly neighborhood haunt," Elida said playfully, picking up the whiteboard eraser and tossing it gently into the air.

The classroom erupted into chaos.