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PROLOGUE Seamus O’Donnell waited not so patiently behind the old Volvo in the grocery store parking lot on that cold last night in October. It was just past five, but already it was getting dark. “Come on. I don’t have all day!” he shouted in the car, somewhat glad that the windows were up and that the driver in front of him couldn’t hear his rant. He didn’t normally act this way, but what he said was correct. Most twenty-six-year-olds had a whole life time in front of them. That was because twenty-six-year-olds were supposed to live forever, but as usual, Seamus O’Donnell, was moving to the beat of his own drum. The old Volvo station wagon finally turned and Seamus pulled the rental car into the only open spot on that row, the very last one. He rushed from the car and into the store. Pumpkins decorated the store’s exterior, and as he passed through the glass doors a plastic cat hissed at him while a decorative scarecrow said, “Happy Halloween.” He rushed to the small counter near the produce where he knew this store sold its flowers. He scanned the cellophane wrapped bouquets and grabbed one full of fall flowers. He thought for a moment that it was the perfect blend of brown and gold with just a hint of red. His mother would love this assortment. Anxious to get home, he practically sprinted to the counter. There was only one person ahead of him and he approached the aisle quickly. On a small table between the aisles a Grim Reaper doll sprang to life and quickly cackled at Seamus. Without thinking, Seamus swung his hand at the doll, knocking it off the table. “f**k you!” he yelled at the doll as it lie on the floor looking up at him. Seamus could feel his foot raise in the air, but just as he was ready to stomp the doll, a gentle hand grabbed his arm. “What’s wrong, Seamus?” a soothing woman’s voice asked. Seamus moved his foot back and slowly placed it on the ground. He turned toward the voice and looked at Mrs. Oliver. What the f**k was wrong with him? Had he really just attacked a doll? “I’m sorry, Mrs. Oliver. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” His answer wasn’t entirely the truth, and he realized that as the words came out of his mouth. He knew what was bothering him. The good news was that it wouldn’t be bothering him for much longer. At least that’s what the doctors had said. “Are you still living in Manhattan, honey?” Mrs. Oliver asked. “Yes, Mrs. Oliver. I just came home for the holiday.” “Oh, that’s right. Your family does something special tonight for Halloween.” “Well, yes, but we actually call it Samhain,” Seamus said. Only in Massachusetts would it not be peculiar to sit in the middle of a grocery store and talk about how his family celebrated an ancient pagan holiday. Here it was in vogue. Tourists came from nearby towns, and sometimes larger cities, to watch the circle his family’s coven cast every year, and to participate in the activities put on at his family farm. It was good for all the businesses in town, especially the restaurants and hotels, and Seamus imagined that the grocery store sold its fair share of talking Halloween dolls every year thanks to the coven. “Well, you’re probably just stressed from all the hustle and bustle of New York, Seamus,” Mrs. Oliver said. “It’s good you’re coming home to relax with your parents for a bit. I bet those flowers are for your mother. Why don’t you just take them home? They’re on me.” “I couldn’t do that,” Seamus protested. “I should probably buy that doll from you also.” “Nonsense, you run along and don’t worry about this doll. It’s still in good shape and it’ll sell later. You’ll be in good shape too when you get some fresh air and relax back home for a bit. I may be swinging by your place later to watch the festivities anyway.” Seamus started to protest more, but he could tell from the look in Mrs. Oliver’s eye that it would do no good. He had known her as long as he could remember, and his family had always shopped at her store. She may have thought he was acting like a raving lunatic tonight, but she didn’t show it and Seamus knew that she liked him. “Thanks, Mrs. Oliver,” he said, and headed toward the exit. As he approached the doors, the cat hissed at him again, and the scarecrow wished him a happy Halloween, but when he reached the doors they stayed shut. He moved his hands in front of the sensor, trying not to look any more crazy than he already had, but it seemed the faster he moved his hands, the more futile his efforts became. The electronic door refused to open. He backed up, and walked up to it again. Still nothing. “It’s like I’m not even here,” he said. A man walked ahead of Seamus and waved his hand in front of the sensor. This time, the electronic door opened.