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All of our heads whipped to look over at her, shocked she’d asked something so considerate.

“Fuck all of you.” Cyrus growled. “I say plenty of nice shit.”

Trying not to draw more attention to it, I just answered her. “A long time, probably Heirs”

We’d done Halloween activities every year, even if Pastor Harris thought some of it was demonic. The nuns always needed stuff to keep a group of rowdy kids in line. And pumpkin carving was cheap, easy, and fun.

But since I’d left Heirs of Promise, there weren’t many occasions to enjoy the seasons.

Cyrus just nodded, staying focused on her work as she chucked wet handfuls of pumpkin innards onto the white marble counters.

Once Nash hollowed hers out, she put on a pot of apple cider, letting the stove heat it up slowly. It was the right way to do it, the way hot cider was meant to be had. But when she’d bought a jug from the orchard, a part of me assumed my Freaks would just take turns chugging from the plastic bottle by the sink.

This was nicer.

Within a few minutes, the entire loft filled with the smell of spiced apples.

Blade turned on some fun, spooky music while we carved — unbothered by the wet pumpkin guts on her phone.

Staring at my hollowed out squash, I thought about what I wanted to do.

How seriously should I take this?

Biting my lip, I decided the most important thing was to have fun. And as the Freaks cracked jokes around me, laughter filling the apartment, I realized I was.

Feverpoint had started out as a nightmare, and then it had become a cash cow.

But now, it was starting to feel like something far better.

Home.

After a while, Blade threw her axes down on the counter and clapped her hands together. “Finito.” But as I leaned on my stool to take a peak, Blade hugged the gourd close and shook her head. “No peeking.”

Nash polished off the last of her cup of cider before tossing her carving tools into the stainless steel sink. “Same.”

Taking a step back, I admired my work and added a few finishing touches. Once I was happy with my carving, I set my knife down and nodded. “Me too.”

I’d almost forgotten Cyrus was here. She’d locked in so hard that she’d just been diligently carving away small bits of pumpkin for the last hour or so.

She took one deep breath before setting down the chef’s knife and nodding.

Too excited to wait, Blade spun her pumpkin around for all of us to see.

I snorted out a laugh as I looked at it: a crudely carved smiley face with rough edges and huge gashes. It was perfectly Blade: disturbing, funny, and rushed.

“What?” Blade grinned.

Shaking my head, I couldn’t stop laughing. “I’m shocked that took you as long as it did.”

Nash agreed, chuckling as she wrapped her arm around Blade’s shoulder. “It’s awesome, dude. Good work.”

Blade cackled. “Honestly, I was done an hour ago but I just like carving shit so I kept taking chunks out.” Between laughs, Blade wiggled her eyebrows at me. “You next, Trinket.”

All my nerves faded after seeing Blade’s rudimentary work.

Spinning it around, I gestured to it ala Vana White. “Thoughts?”

I leaned over to get another look at my carving. I’d carved a rough outline of Feverpoint’s gates. At the center, a delicate carving of a black and orange cat sat with his tail in the air. A simple portrait of the perfectly spooky Butch.