by Linsey Hall
The hound bayed again, and the hairs on my arms stood up. “He’s getting closer.”
“Let’s move.”
We cut across the soggy ground, the chill wind biting through my jacket. As I jogged down the hill, heading toward the house, pale white lights appeared, flitting around my head.
I smacked at them, then glanced at Maximus. “This is going to be annoying.”
He nodded, expression grim.
I’d have to be careful what I said around the white wisps. They continued to flit, but I did my best to ignore them, picking up my pace as the sound of the hound grew nearer.
“It’s stalking us,” Maximus said.
I looked around, but saw no hound. No sign of life either. Just a massive circle of low stones on the hill beside us. They formed a low, broken-down wall that surrounded an area the size of a football field. We cut straight through, passing by smaller circles made of more stones. This place was ancient—I could feel it in my bones, but I had no idea what it was.
We reached the low valley and jogged up the hill toward the house. It loomed overhead, a specter in and of itself. The ghost of a house that had once sat here. Once normal, it was now a creepy shadow of itself. The air began to prickle.
“Feel that?” I asked.
Maximus nodded. “Protection charm. Once we pass the barrier, we won’t be able to transport.”
A dozen yards later, the protection charm seemed to pop as we crossed over it. If we wanted to make a run for it later, we’d need to reach this point and then go a bit farther.
We arrived at the front lawn—or what passed for it—and had to pick our way through a massive bed of pale green pumpkins. A few orange ones were scattered amongst the lot, but most were a ghostly gray green. The fat vines twisted like snakes along the grass, and I dodged them, jumping over the pumpkins. Mist floated over the ground, making it hard to see, but I made it to the front step of the house without tripping and falling on my face, thank fates.
The door really was chained shut, the huge iron links crisscrossing over the old wooden door. A dark window sat next to it, and I crept up to it.
Behind us, the hound howled louder. Closer now.
My heart thundered. I looked back, but saw only mist. It had risen up off the ground and now hid the other hills. I shivered and turned back to the window, peering inside.
It was dark and empty. “I can’t see anything.”
Maximus appeared close behind me, looking in. His heat seeped through the back of my jacket, and I nearly sighed.
The hound howled, louder, and I snapped back to attention.
“There’s something in there.” Maximus leaned closer, his front pressing to my back.
To our left, the door creaked open. We jumped and spun to face it.
A witch glared out, her face haggard and a wart on her nose. Her dress was shapeless and black, and she wore a ratty, pointed hat.
Holy crap. I’d seen a lot of witches in my day, and none had looked like this.
She looked like a freaking cartoon.
But mean.
She hissed, revealing fangs. “What are you doing there, trespassing on my land?”
Ice shivered down my spine. This was one woman you did not want to mess with.
“We’re here to see the ghost in the attic.” Maximus’s voice revealed no fear.
Her face contorted, an expression of rage and pure evil. “Goooo!”
She shouted the word so loudly that I went deaf, my ears ringing. Her bellow whooshed over me, shaking the porch upon which I stood. Fire gleamed in her eyes, and her magic swelled.
“Time to go.” I was too deaf to hear my words, but Maximus got the point.
We darted off the porch, running like our lives depended on it. The mist swallowed us up, and I grabbed his hand, pulling him left. We couldn’t just abandon the house. We needed to get into that attic. But going in through the front door was not an option.
I tugged him left, heading around the house to the side.
The hound bayed again, the sound tinny through my returning hearing, and I could tell that it was close. Too close.
We needed to find a way in before the hound reached us.
I pressed my back against the side wall of the house, and Maximus joined me.
He leaned close and whispered against my ear. “I saw a low window a dozen feet ahead. Into a basement, maybe.”
I shivered at the feel of his breath against my ear. No. Now was not the time. Between the deadly dog and the zipping white wisps that followed our every moment, this was decidedly the worst time to be thinking about Maximus’s mouth.
I nodded and moved, hurrying along the edge of the house on silent feet.
Just as Maximus had said, there was a window near the ground. Broken.
I knelt and inspected the debris, spotting a paw print. I looked up. “The wolf brothers were here.”
“They’re already inside.” A grim expression crossed Maximus’s face. “Let’s go.”
The hound howled again, this time so close that I swore I could smell its deadly breath.
I scrambled through the broken window, trying to avoid the glass. Maximus followed. I looked back out the window just in time to see the dog’s massive head, his jaws snapping at us.
I lurched backward, but the dog didn’t follow. He was too big.
Shaking and sweaty, I turned from it to face the damp, dark basement. The room was large and the ceiling low, and the scent of dirt was strong down here. Though the wisps provided a tiny bit of light, it was still too dark to see much.
The sound of the dog’s growl was punctuated by a thumping noise that came from about twenty feet away, and I jumped.
My heart thundered, and I shook my lightstone ring. A golden glow flared, illuminating a coffin on a low table.
“What the heck?” I murmured.
It thumped again, like there was someone inside.
“It’s locked.” Maximus pointed to a heavy old padlock that shut the coffin up tight.
I approached, my footsteps quiet. The lock was so ancient that it was rusted. A skeleton key would open it. “It’s been locked for years.”
It thumped again, so hard that the coffin bounced. Whoever was inside heard us. But why was it locked? Were they dangerous?
The wolf shifters had just ignored the coffin, heading on.
If we ignored it, too, we’d maintain the element of surprise. If we released whatever was inside, it could be dangerous. It could be loud.
I really didn’t want to alert the witch.
But I also really didn’t want to leave someone locked up. He—or she—might be evil. But maybe not.
I looked at Maximus. “I think we should let it out.”
He nodded, frowning. “It’s dangerous. But we have no other choice.”
“Exactly.” I liked that he was on my side in this. I touched the lock. “How are we going to get this open?”
Maximus reached out and nudged my hand aside, then grabbed the lock and yanked. The metal latches tore away from the coffin.
The lid burst open, and a vampire popped up, sitting upright, his face pale and his dark eyes wide.
I jumped, heart pounding, and drew a sword from the ether.
The vampire turned to us. He wore a long black cloak with a high collar. His dark hair was slicked back from his head, and his fangs were long and white. I blinked.
He looked exactly like a Hollywood version of a vampire.
His gaze met mine, and he spoke, his Transylvanian accent thick. “I vant to suck your blood.”
My jaw almost dropped. “Are you serious?”
He blinked. “You are not scared?”
“Of your breath, maybe.” But not of him. Not anymore. I could read danger. And it wasn’t this guy. I turned to Maximus. “Breath mint?”
Maximus looked at me, slightly startled. Then a smile quirked at the edge of his mouth, and he conjured a breath mint and handed it to me. I passed it over to the vampire.
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He looked down at it, confused.
“Put it in your mouth.”
He took it and popped it into his mouth, his fangs gleaming. Then his eyes brightened. “Oh, that’s quite nice.”
“I thought you might like that.” And this was officially super surreal.
“What are you doing here?” Maximus asked. “Did the witch capture you?”
“Years ago, yes. More than a century. We’re mortal enemies.” He scowled, sucking furiously at the mint. “I am Dracula.”
My brows rose. “The Dracula?”
“There are others?”
Now was not the time to mention the thousands who dressed up at Halloween. Or the movies. Better for him to figure it out on his own. “Do you know anything about a ghost in the attic?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. But I do know that you should not go farther into this house.”
I frowned. “We have to.”
“Then it was very nice to make your acquaintance, but I fear it will not be a long-lasting friendship. For you shall be dead soon.”
“Fantastic.” I smiled at him. “Any tips other than that?”
“Avoid the mummy in the kitchen.”
“Mummy?” Maximus asked. “Someone’s mother is there?”
I glanced at him, a grin on my face. Most times, it was easy to forget that he was from the past. He had a grasp on almost every aspect of modern life. But apparently not mummies.
“No, not someone’s mother,” I said. “A mummy is a dead body that has been dried out and wrapped up in cloth. It’s a burial ritual. Also a common feature in haunted houses.” Which this one was really turning out to be. First a witch, then Dracula, and finally a mummy, if we were unlucky enough to run into him.
Speaking of, the wolves were already ahead of us, and if this was all the advice Dracula had, we needed to get a move on.
“Well, we’ll be on our way,” I said.
“Yes, yes. Me too.” The vampire nodded, his expression serious. Then a poof of magic burst from him, a pale light that swallowed his form. A moment later, a small bat appeared, fluttering in midair. The little beast gave a fangy smile, then darted away, flying out the window.
I shook my head, looking at Maximus. “This is freaking surreal.”
“How so? They’re just monsters.”
I smiled. “I’ll show you some old movies sometime, just so you can get a feel for how weird this crowd is.”
Only once I’d said it did I realize that it kind of sounded like a date. That was exactly what a date was, in fact. Watching old movies. Together. Alone.
A slow, sexy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’d like that.”
I nodded, suddenly feeling awkward. Not only were the wisps following us, blasting this exchange across the world for viewers to enjoy, but I wasn’t willing to live up to my promise.
I didn’t want a relationship. Not even a friends-with-benefits one. Not when my life was such a mess. So I really needed to not make date suggestions like that. It could go nowhere good.
I turned, looking for an exit. “Let’s go.”
It didn’t take long to find a rickety set of stairs heading upward. As we climbed, I murmured, “This has been okay so far. Mean dog, scary witch, and a funny vampire. Not so bad, really.”
“That’s what I said when they tossed me in the gladiator ring.” Maximus’s voice was serious. “I was wrong.”
I glanced back at him. “Famous last words, then?”
“Perhaps.”
He was probably right. I turned back and continued climbing, my footsteps silent. The door at the top was made of old, scratched wood. I pushed it open, and it creaked, shrieking like a banshee. I stiffened, then slipped through the narrow opening.
Straight into a graveyard.
I stopped, my brows flying upward. “What the heck?”
Those had definitely been famous last words, because the place reeked of danger.
Maximus shoved me lightly, and I stepped forward, giving him room to move through the door. My foot landed on something squishy, and I looked down to see a decayed gravesite flower, crushed against the wooden floor.
Wooden floor?
So we were still in the house?
I looked around, taking in the massive graveyard. It was the size of a football field, at least. Gray headstones stuck up from the ground, many of them at crazy angles. Mist hovered over the ground, sneaking between the stones. Here and there, transparent white ghosts floated. They were amorphous, looking a bit like the kinds of ghosts that were made from sheets at Halloween. Usually, ghosts looked like shadowy versions of their former selves.
Not these ghosts. They looked tattered and worn, like they were barely hanging on to the world.
And somewhere amongst all this, that creepy witch was lurking. I stepped closer to Maximus, studying our surroundings. “I think we’re still inside the house. Though it’s a lot bigger than I realized.”
He pointed to the right. “There’s a window, just there.”
I squinted toward it, catching sight of a glass pane that floated in midair. I couldn’t see the wall itself, but the graveyard ended right before the window.
“This really is surreal.” That snake oil announcer hadn’t been lying.
The cold mist that hovered over the ground was sneaking into my boots, making my feet feel unnaturally cold. Something about it reminded me of death, and I knew instinctually that I didn’t want to be standing in it for long.
“We need to find some stairs.” I started forward on quiet feet, avoiding the headstones as I kept my eyes on the ghosts.
There was no moon overhead since we were inside, but I couldn’t see a ceiling. An eerie glow hung in the air, illuminating the graveyard enough that I didn’t fall on my face.
Lit jack-o’-lanterns sat on some of the graves, but they were tiny and weird-shaped. Carved from turnips, I realized. There were a few small green pumpkins as well, and the effect was like some horrible Halloween farce.
Then I spotted Romeo, sitting with his back to one of the gravestones and snacking on one of the lanterns. Poppy and Eloise sat next to him, each of them clutching a turnip carved with a face.
Romeo’s gaze darted up to meet mine, and he grinned broadly, holding out the turnip. You should try one. The candle gives it such a nice toasty flavor.
“Do those count as trash?” I asked, not even bothering to ask how he’d gotten here. It seemed like he could go wherever I went, the dragon magic that bound us making it possible.
He shrugged. I think so.
“Have you seen any of the other competitors?”
He looked a bit confused for a moment, and Poppy poked him.
Daft, Eloise muttered, her little badger face unimpressed.
I looked at her. “Did you speak, Eloise?”
She looked at me innocently, pretending she’d said nothing. Apparently whispered comments were Eloise’s thing. That and fighting.
Oh yes. Saw two wolves. Romeo grinned. Threw pumpkins at them.
Eloise gave a hissing little laugh, and Poppy joined in.
“Good job. You stay out of trouble, okay? Don’t eat too many pumpkins.”
He ignored me and took a huge bite, cheeks bulging. Poppy followed suit, chowing down.
I looked at Maximus. “Let’s get a move on.”
We continued through the graveyard. In the distance, blue glitter exploded into the air.
“The fae are fighting,” I whispered, wondering what had attacked them.
“That makes two other teams already in the house. And I’d bet a case of whiskey that the illusionists are here as well.”
I chewed my lip, knowing he was right, and searched for the stairs. Where the heck were they?
We kept searching, moving quietly through the graveyard. We’d just come upon a large, slow-moving river when a ghost drifted toward us, looking like it was in slightly better shape than the rest. The figure was human-shaped at least, with a funny hat and a
pipe.
I frowned as he neared. Was he…? “Sherlock Holmes?”
The ghost stopped as he neared us. His face was a bit blurry, as if his ghostly form were fading away.
“Indeed.” His British accent was clipped and old-sounding, like he’d stepped out of the pages of a musty old book.
Which he had. Sherlock had never really lived, so he couldn’t be a ghost. Unless he was the ghost of a story. Either way, I couldn’t help the giddy grin that spread over my face.
“And what might you be doing in such a dire place?” he asked.
“We’re looking for the ghost in the attic,” Maximus said.
“That old bastard?”
“The same,” I said. “Do you know how we could get up there? I don’t see any stairs. In fact, this doesn’t seem like much of a house at all.”
“But it is indeed,” he said. “Right in the middle of Dartmoor.” His gaze brightened. “Have you seen my hound?”
“Heard him,” Maximus said.
Sherlock nodded. “For the best. Better that you not run into him. Miserable bugger has a mean bite.”
“The stairs?” I prodded.
His gaze sharpened. “Yes, yes. You are in the parlor now. The magic of Dartmoor—and that witch—have overtaken it. But you can get out of here if you cross the bridge.”
“Where is it?” Maximus asked.
Sherlock turned and pointed to a spot almost directly behind him. “But there is a trick to it, you see. You must ride over the bridge on the Headless Horseman’s stallion.”
I frowned. “Wait, what?”
“Steal his horse, ride over the bridge.” Sherlock’s voice indicated that he thought I was too dumb to live.
“I don’t think he’s going to like it if we steal his horse,” I said. I really didn’t want to piss off the locals. I’d read the stories. The Headless Horseman was someone you didn’t want as an enemy.
“He’s a nasty bloke, so don’t worry yourself.” He shrugged. “Anyway, it must be done, if you want to reach the attic.”
Which, yes, we did.
The sound of thundering hoofbeats sounded from behind us, and Sherlock jumped. “That would be him! Be careful now. He’s deadly.”
I turned, catching sight of a massive steed galloping toward us. The horse was the biggest I’d ever seen, with a glossy black coat and fangs that overlapped its bottom lip. The eyes burned a fiery red, but it was the headless man who was on top that was really scary. He wore a flowing black cloak and carried a burning jack-o’-lantern under one arm.
