Finvarra settled on the worn rowan bench he’d carved and slipped his arm across his beloved’s shoulders. The shining, silver crescent moon danced through the boughs of the trees, still clinging to the last of their scarlet leaves, and the forest beneath it was alive with a warm amber aurora and the soft music of flutes and strings. A cauldron hung over the fire beside them, mulling the cider within and sending the aroma of apples and herbs into the air. Una’s face glowed with delight as she watched the little ones out to trick-or-treat. The fire simulated the invitation of a porch light, and of course they had the treats. 

Animal costumes were always favorites; small children dressed as puppies, deer, bumblebees, or sheep were among the most adorable. Older imps dressed as rainbow skeletons who glowed in the dark, werewolves half morphed and walked upright, vampires roamed unencumbered in the half-light, and a few of the other friendlier members of the Unseelie court. Little girls in princess dresses, some with fairy wings far too flimsy to support their weight, tottered on plastic heels, balanced a scepter or wand against a plastic pumpkin full of candy. Others sported sensible, illusion-shattering sneakers under their fluffy satin dresses. The details of the ever-changing hero stories were difficult to track through the ages, but their tropes were easy enough to spot: ridiculous, fake muscles padded onto children’s tiny frames, weapons from swords to guns and back again menacing when parents’ heads turned. The bold patterns of colors or stripes that symbolized bravery. Finn didn’t know any of the hero’s names, but it pleased him to see the bow made a resurgence among the weaponry. 

Maisy giggled as skeletons danced in the corner of the yard at the last house on the street. The final rays of sun faded and the colored lights from the house behind them, seemed to wiggle in perfect rhythm to the song, even though she knew plastic skeletons didn’t have ears to hear that it was time to connect their leg bones to their hip bones. She wiggled her hips too, and as she followed the lyric’s directions, tipped her pumpkin over, sending her candy flying. She gasped and panicked: anything but lost candy on Halloween! If she bent low enough to the sidewalk, she found she could see most of the bright colors on the wrapped sweets. She crawled along the ground pressing her hands to the grass and dried leaves. For extra safety, she traced a circle far out from the side of the yard with the skeletons; can’t have a piece of candy going unclaimed. 

When she stood up, she’d wandered away from the houses and the rest of the trick-or-treaters. She stood by the edge of the woods, where two people, dressed maybe as a queen and king, sat on a bench by a campfire. They played a strange, old melody Maisy imagined might be coming from a music box that hid in the grass somewhere. The woods gleamed bright and yellow, almost as if the sun was setting inside them. A dark shape moved in the branches like a grown-up had climbed a tree. The couple seemed to have treats, though.

She smoothed out her stiff orange skirt and adjusted her fox ear headband. All of a sudden, the distance she had come from the sidewalk occurred to her and she worried about her manners regarding strangers. “Happy Halloween,” she ventured as a safe greeting. Una smiled and proffered the basket in encouragement. Maisy picked her way toward the pair through the leaves, careful to avoid the small, white mushrooms in her thin shoes. 

Erin held Steven’s hand tight and searched around again. Maisy had been beside her a moment ago, but now she couldn’t pick her daughter’s fox-eared head among the astronauts, wizards, beauty queens, mad scientists, and other costumed ghoulies bouncing about chaotically in the half-light. She looked one more time on this side of the street and then scooped Steven up, intent on crossing, even though she was almost sure Maisy wouldn’t break that rule and go without her. When she glanced to her left to check for traffic, she noticed a phosphorescent glare in the woods so eerie it made her look twice and caught Maisy heading toward a pair of strangers standing by a campfire on the edge of the clearing. With Steven already on her hip, she ran toward the forest. She spotted a third person in one of the trees, hanging upside down. He was far behind the other two and she couldn’t be sure he was related to them, but his presence made her uneasy. 

“Trick-or-treat,” Maisy intoned, entranced by the sight of the treats in the basket Una held. The small, pale cookies inside sparkled with incandescent glitter. They didn’t have frosting, but seemed to be glazed in something that shone in the dancing firelight. They smelled of honey and cinnamon. Real wildflowers crowned each one. Some were topped with daisies or foxglove, others had honeysuckle or milkweed flowers. Others had tiny circles of heather or intricately-laid bluebell flowers. Her mother came up from behind and startled her as she was about to choose an especially pretty one topped with a violet and some bluebells.

Una’s eyes clouded when she saw Maisy jump. She was careful not to withdraw the basket, but she watched Erin with caution. She smiled at Steven and he favored her with a giggle. These darlings were perfectly adorable, with their dark curls and easy laughs, but their mother was a bit too weary. 

“Happy Halloween, Miss,” Finn offered. He scooped some cider from the cauldron into a mug and beckoned the woman into the circle. 

It tempted Erin to walk over to the fire and take the cup Finn held out to her. The heady scent of apples and spices drifted across the space between them and enticed her so much her head spun. A clandestine speaker played a compelling mix of sweet, sad woodwind and string instruments enigmatic and strange for Halloween, yet compelling. Una’s gown shone in the firelight like she wore a living mirror. Finn’s clothes were beautiful, too. Both looked far too finely crafted to be costumes, especially for strangers who’d set up a campfire at the edge of the woods on Halloween. Their smiles implored Erin, and the unearthly glow emanating from the forest gave her a headache. She took a step back, pulling on Maisy’s shoulder.

“Ahh, thank you, but…” she struggled to think of an excuse to refuse the offered treads and concoction on trick-or-treat night, but anxiety tingled along her spine. With another step, she landed on a shock of the thin, sticky mushrooms that seemed to be everywhere. And she had no doubt there was a third person up in that tree behind them, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at it. “The kids can only have pre-wrapped food, I’m sorry. Happy Halloween, though.” 

As Finn lowered the mug, his friendly smile fell as well.

But Una’s radiant smile didn’t falter as she put her basket aside. She had seen this moment coming; there was nothing to do now but offer her magic. “And a Blessed Samhain to you, Little Fox,” she said, and touched the tip of Maisy’s nose.

Maisy thought she saw a sparkle of light. She wanted to protest; she wanted to stay with this nice man and pretty lady with the longest blonde hair she’d ever seen and try their cookies and apple cider and dance with them around the fire. But before she could say anything, her mother made her excuse, nodded in thanks, and pulled her away. Her feet stuck to the ground when she tried to lift them like they should leave big tracks in the ground, but she couldn’t see any imprints as she walked away from the strange melody and circle of mushrooms. Instead, her mother led her back toward the sidewalks and people. 

They had crossed the street before her voice returned. “Momma, why was that man hanging upside down in the tree with his legs in a four like that?” she asked.

“Maisy, honey, I don’t know.” Erin resisted the urge to look back. The sound of the music and the smell of the apple cider still lingered in her mind. “Have we had enough Halloween for tonight? Are you ready to go home?”

Una strode to the fire and took the drink Finvarra held. She sighed as she watched the woman walk away with her beautiful family. “We’ll have to set up somewhere else next year,” she said sadly and swirled the contents of the cup to release the magic of the spices—two clockwise turns to activate the scents of cloves and anise, once counterclockwise to offset the effects of the agrimony and belladonna. “It’s a pity; the wee ones laugh with such joy and ease. We have all missed those sounds. The three of them would have been excellent additions to the Troop.”

“If only the mother hadn’t seen the Pooka up in the tree,” he grumbled, waving his hand at the canopy. 

“The Pooka is always in the trees, My Love,” Una soothed. “It doesn’t usually stop them.” She smiled at her husband and studied the care on his face. Although his features were as unchanged as ever, the worry worked on them in recent times. If he were human, she might see the fine lines of age around the corners of his mouth as often as he turned them down. She knew he would mourn the loss of the children longer than he should. Members of the Troop bore the absence of babies as their own quiet, personal tragedies, but he looked through the lens of the deep future of the Troop. The children they had failed to take in years past appeared to him as adults absent from their ranks. He didn’t just grieve the loss of these three individuals as the individuals, but the myriad of potential they represented to the Troop that slipped through his grasp. His mind would not let go of what might have been had the Sidhe been able to remain. He gazed with sorrowful eyes at the other mermaids, sports stars, and ghosts when they passed by his denizen.

She set the cup aside and cradled her husband’s hands in hers. “We’ve not disappeared into the Hills for good yet. We’ll be somewhere else next year and we’ll get by, as we always have. And until then….” She drew him close to her and willed the song louder. If there was nothing else to do for now, at least they could dance.