by Blair Merrin
“Cassie. Cassie Cleary.”
“What a gorgeous name! I can tell we’re going to get along just great.”
CHAPTER 3
I tell Sarah to be at Miss Miscellanea at eight a.m. the next morning, not expecting her to actually show up on time. I couldn’t honestly say what makes me think that; just something about her tells me she’s not exactly Ms. Punctuality.
Yet lo and behold, when I come down the next morning from my apartment (a two-bedroom above the store) she’s waiting for me right outside, holding two steaming Styrofoam cups.
“Morning, boss!” she says cheerfully. She wears a gray pleated skirt and a black turtleneck sweater. Around her neck is a silver pendant, an upside-down star inside a circle—a pentagram, I think. All that, with her dark eye makeup, she reminds me of one of the girls from The Craft. But I don’t say that; instead I just stand there feeling somewhat self-conscious in my faded jeans and t-shirt.
“Just Cassie is fine,” I tell her.
“Cool. Here, this is for you.” She hands me one of the cups. “It’s a mocha latte with soy milk, double-foam. If you’ve never had, trust me; it’s delish.”
“Uh, thanks.”
We head inside and I spend the morning showing her around, how to work the register, and how to answer some of the frequently-asked tourist questions. “Anything you don’t know, just ask me,” I tell her.
I get her started on dusting some curio cabinets, and then I call Mom and tell her she can stay home today. She sounds exhausted and relieved; apparently she was up all night on eBay auctions.
Sarah hums happily while she does the mundane tasks I assign to her. At one point, while she’s dusting a rack of snow globes, she says, “By the way, Cassie, I hope you don’t mind, but I told the guys that run the Scream Asylum about your store. They’ve got some old stuff they’d like to bring by.”
“Sure, sounds great.” Huh. One day here and she’s already drumming up business. Maybe I misjudged Sarah. “Thanks.”
“No prob. I’ve been friends with those guys for years, ever since college. I perform in their haunted house every Halloween. They’re normally in Nashville, but this year they just had to come to Bandit Hills.”
“And… why is that exactly?”
She stops dusting and looks at me somberly. “I mean… it’s obvious, isn’t it? This town is known for ghosts, and with all these murders lately… there’s really no place scarier, right?”
I’m not sure what to say to that. It sounds somewhat insensitive to me to capitalize on people who died recently, but… she’s not wrong. It’s pretty scary.
A few hours later, right after dealing with a rush of post-lunch early-afternoon tourists, Dash comes in.
“Hey,” I greet him. “Don’t you work anymore?”
“Hey yourself. I’m enjoying the lull in my caseload. It’s the calm before the storm; you know how crazy people get around Halloween.” It’s true, there always does seem to be weirdness around the holiday, and not just from the paranormal; the living get just as weird. “Anyway, let me help with the rest of those Halloween decorations.”
The three of us, it turns out, actually make a pretty good team, and I find myself completely unstressed as the afternoon wears on. It’s a nice feeling, though completely unfamiliar to me. A couple hours later, the door chimes and Sarah’s friends enter the store, three of them, two men hefting large cardboard boxes and a petite, pretty blonde woman, all of them around Sarah’s age.
“Hey guys!” Sarah says brightly. “Cassie, this is Carl and Donovan, the guys that run the Scream Asylum. And this…” Sarah’s exuberant smile fades quickly, “…is Sally.”
Sally, the pretty blonde, regards me with a half-smile.
“Hi, and welcome,” I say. “Are you a, uh, Scream Queen, too?”
“Oh, no. I’m Donovan’s wife.” Sally flashes me a sardonic smile. “I don’t have enough hot air in me to be a Scream Queen.”
“Turns out you don’t have to work when you marry wealthy,” Sarah shoots back, feigning an innocent smile.
Sally puts on a broad smile to match Sarah’s, though there’s avarice in her eyes. “Sarah, I just love your fashion sense. Tell me, have you gotten your Hogwarts letter yet?”
Sarah’s face turns red. “You wish you had enough talent to be a Scream Queen. The only performance I’ve ever seen you do is swiping a credit card—”
“That’s enough, both of you,” Donovan says under his breath, still smiling. He puts his hand out to me. “Nice to meet you, Cassie. Sarah told us about your shop here, so we brought some stuff we cleaned out from the sanitarium. We were just going to throw it out anyway.”
“Oh, thanks. You can leave those boxes there; I’ll go through them later.” Donovan looks like a poster child for Ralph Lauren; he’s tall, handsome, and lean with chiseled cheekbones and a great fashion sense. His wife Sally is right on par with him. She’s pretty enough to give April down at Tank’s a run for her money. Carl, on the other hand, is short and stocky, with thin hair and big eyebrows. He’s by no means ugly, but standing next to these two, he’s just… unremarkable.
I decide I like Carl the best, even though he hasn’t said a word yet.
“So, you two do this haunted attraction thing as a job?” I ask. “How’s that work?”
Donovan laughs. “Oh, goodness, no. This is just a side business me and Carl run together for fun, and it brings in some extra money. I own an indie record label in Nashville. And Carl here is an accountant.”
“I’m a CPA,” Carl says flatly. He gives me a sheepish smile.
“Just look at this place!” Donovan gushes, glancing around the shop. “It’s fantastic. I bet I can find a couple of good things for the Scream Asylum here. Don’t you think, Carl?”
“Actually, I’m going to head back,” Carl tells us. “Lots to do still.”
“Sure, sure. I’ll be along soon.” Donovan turns to Sally. “You want to head back with Carl?”
I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure I see a quick look of disgust wash over her briefly before she smiles and says, “I’ll wait with you, Donovan. We’ll head back together.”
Carl shrugs and leaves. “Bye, Carl,” I call out. There’s some kind of weird dynamic in this group that makes me feel like I’m watching a soap opera.
“Hey Dash, give me a hand?” He comes over and we start to sift through the boxes as Donovan and Sally look around the store. Most of the items they brought me are, admittedly, junk: old clipboards, chipped mugs and plates, an ancient coffee machine, stuff like that.
Then Dash reaches far into the bottom of one of the boxes and says, “Whoa. What’s this?”
I look up as he pulls out what appears to be a medal or pendant of some kind. It’s large and round, and hanging from a thick leather cord. Etched into its center is an upside-down star, and in the center of that is a crude eye.
“It’s like some sort of amulet,” Dash says. “It looks like it’s made of stone… but it’s heavy. Like it’s lead or something.” Then his face breaks into a smile. “This is perfect to finish my costume!”
“What costume? You said you didn’t have a costume.”
His cheeks turn red. “Well… I do have this one thing. It’s a cosplay thing.”
“A what?”
“Cosplay? Costumed… never mind. It’s a wizard outfit from a game called Dungeon Crawl. And this would be awesome to—”
“Wow! What’s that?” Sarah suddenly appears at Dash’s side, her wide eyes staring at the amulet the way I stare at chocolate mousse. “It’s so cool! I want to buy it. How much, Cassie?”
Dash looks at me, his eyes pleading. I shrug. “Sorry, Dash. Paying customer takes precedence.” I turn to Sarah. “Let’s say… twenty bucks?”
“I’ll give you twenty-five,” Dash counters.
“Not fair!” Sarah protests. “He knows I’m short on dough.”
“Dash, don’t be childish. She wants the… uh, amulet, thing…”
“Whoa, hey,” Donovan cuts in. “How did that get in there?” Before Dash can say another word, Donovan snatches the amulet out of his grip. “Sorry folks, didn’t mean for that to be in the box. This is for the asylum.”
“Aww,” Dash and Sarah both complain in unison.
“I’ll just hang onto this.” Donovan winks and tries to stuff the big round pendant in his pocket, but it won’t fit. “Uh, Sally, darling, will you stick this in your purse?”
“Ew, no.”
Donovan rolls his eyes, but maintains his cheerful demeanor. “That’s fine. Listen, it was lovely meeting you, but we have to head back to the sanitarium. Lots to be done! Bye-bye now.” He puts an arm around Sally’s shoulders and whisks her out of the store quickly.
“That was weird,” I say.
“Super weird,” Sarah agrees.
“I really wanted that amulet,” Dash pouts.
“Forget about it. I’m sure you’ll make an adorable wizard without it,” I tell him.
“Oh my gosh!” Sarah jumps up, looking at her watch. “Look at the time! I gotta get into makeup. It takes like two hours. I’ll see you two at the party though, right?”
“Definitely,” I tell her. “Thanks for your help today!”
“No prob, boss! I mean, Cassie. See you later!”
CHAPTER 4
It’s just my humble opinion, but I think there’s a real problem with female Halloween costumes in this country. Look, I’m a thirty-two year-old woman who has (almost) no qualms about her figure, but I’m not about to squeeze into a corset and mini-skirt with parts of me showing that usually don’t see daylight. I’m not a prude or anything, but I have some couth. Besides, it’s October. I’d freeze.
I close the store early that evening and head upstairs to get ready. Dash comes by about an hour later and I meet him in front of the store. I immediately break into a fit of giggles.
“What are you laughing at?” he asks. He’s wearing a brown wig of long, loose curls down to the center of his back, and a matching beard that reaches his sternum. Around his head is a plain gold band, and over his clothes is a deep purple robe with blue flames up each arm. To complete the ensemble, he carries a plastic staff—seriously, like a wizard’s staff—with a snake’s head at the top.
“Nothing. You look stunning.” I giggle again.
“Yeah? Well what are you supposed to be?”
For the reasons I named above, I chose to cobble my costume together from things I had handy. I wear a black sequined evening gown, and over that a shoulder shrug with long flowing sleeves. Throw in a pointy black hat and boom, instant witch. I did up my fingernails black and my eyes in green eye shadow, and a brown mole on one cheek. (I know, witches have warts. I didn’t have any warts, so this witch has a mole, okay?)
“I’m a witch. Duh. You’re a wizard, I’m a witch.”
“I am not just a wizard. I am Melchior, Defender of the Seventh Seal, Keeper of the Dancing Flame!” He bangs his staff on the ground once for effect.
“Oh my god, please don’t say that at the party, or I will pretend I don’t know you.”
“Fine,” he says. “You look great, by the way.”
“And you look like you just came from Comic-Con.”
“You know, I did wear this once to—”
“Please don’t tell me. I don’t want to respect you less after tonight.”
* * *
We get to the sanitarium around nine o’clock. By that time the sun has set, and lucky for me, the tourism board reopened the old access road through the woods. Otherwise the only way to get there would be to walk past a long-abandoned cemetery, and I know there’s no way Dash would do that again.
When we arrive, the place is unrecognizable. I mean, the building looks the same—a squat, depressing place with busted-out windows and ivy climbing up the sides—but it’s far from scary. Purple and green spotlights dance across the front entrance, and dozens of people wait in line to get inside, all of them in costume.
“Wow,” I mutter. “They really did go all out.”
“Yeah,” Dash says brightly. “This isn’t scary at all—” Suddenly two hands seize him by the shoulders and he jumps half a foot in the air. “OHGOODGODWHATISTHAT?!”
Penny Harrigan doubles over laughing. “Dash, you’re too easy.” Penny wears an uncomfortably snug leopard-spotted cat suit and a pair of cat ears over her bubble of red hair, with black whiskers drawn on her face. Penny and I are good friends, though I honestly don’t understand her; she’s got the mind of a physicist and the fashion sense of a pin-up girl. Makes for an interesting combination, to be sure.
“Seems like the whole town is here!” she notes. “Great costume, Dash.” She winks and heads for the sizeable line at the entrance. “I’ll see you guys inside, yeah?”
“Hilarious,” Dash mutters, fixing his skewed headband. He takes a couple steps forward and stumbles. “Oomph!”
I reach out to try to help him, but not fast enough. He sprawls on his hands and knees. “Ouch! What the…” His fingers close around something in the grass. “Hey, look at this.”
“You okay?” I ask him.
“Yeah, fine.” He holds up the big stone amulet that was in the shop earlier. “That Donovan guy must have dropped it on his way back. Huh.” He slips the thick leather cord around his neck.
“Dashiell,” I warn (he knows I’m serious when I use his full name). “That doesn’t belong to you.”
“For safekeeping.” He winks at me. He’s kind of right; it does look good with his otherwise-ridiculous wizard costume. “Come on, let’s head inside.”
* * *
I’ll admit, I don’t go to a whole lot of parties, but this one is jumpin’. Penny was right; it does seem like the whole town is here. Main Street must be a ghost town right now. The party itself is held in what used to be a cafeteria, a huge empty room that Carl and Donovan set up with long tables, plastic chairs, music, a dance floor, and tons of eerie decorations. And I mean eerie, even by Bandit Hills’ standards: severed heads on pikes, ghastly zombie arms, skulls that bleed from the eyes. Makes my cellophane bats at the shop seem downright tacky.
The aroma inside the cafeteria is incredible. Bonnie set up her catering gig along one wall of the cafeteria, all the food arranged on several round tables so that people can walk around and pick at what they like.
Of course, after saying our hellos to everyone, we head straight for the food.
Just when I think it’s not possible for Bonnie to outdo herself, she does. Nearly everything she’s made is Halloween-themed, from the brain muffins we’ve already seen to the creamy deviled eggs with pimento olives (made to look like eyeballs), pulled pork in a tangy barbecue sauce (served in a plastic chest cavity), a horrifyingly realistic meat platter arranged to look like a human face, and more. To top it all off is an enormous Black Forest cake, dripping over the sides with thick strawberry glaze. Amazing.
I’m real conflicted here; the food looks too gross to eat, but smells too good not to. Naturally, stomach wins out over eyes and I start making myself a plate. What can I say? I’m a sucker for deviled eggs.
I pop one of the creamy, delicious eggs in my mouth as I stack a plastic plate with pulled pork, layered with tortillas and topped with cheese like some sort of lasagna. One bite later and I decide it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. I’d ask Bonnie for the recipe, but I know she wouldn’t give it to me.
“Dash you gotta try this…” I start. At the same time, his hand shoots forward and grabs three deviled eggs off the tray in front of me, stuffing them quickly into his mouth. He reaches for the meat tray, peeling off a few slices of salami, and into the bearded hole they go.
“Sheesh, Melchior, you want to get yourself a plate?”
“I can’t help it,” he says with his mouth full. “I’m just so hungry.” He reaches for the pulled pork and, foregoing a fork, pinches a liberal clump between his fingers and
pushes it into his mouth.
“Seriously Dash, people are starting to stare.” I feel my cheeks turn red as he shovels food into his gullet, crumbs and bits of egg getting stuck in his fake beard. “What’s with you?”
I feel a tap on my shoulder, and as I turn, my heart leaps into my throat. I gasp loudly and almost drop my plate of food.
“Hiya, boss!” If it weren’t for Sarah’s voice, I wouldn’t even recognize her in the haunted-house makeup. Her normally shiny auburn hair is matted down with fake blood, running down her forehead. Half her face looks… gone, with glistening exposed muscle beneath. And a way-too-realistic eye hangs from the left socket.
“Good grief, Sarah! Halloween 101: When you look like that, you need to approach people from a distance. Unless you’re trying to freak them out.”
“Maybe I was,” she winks. Her wide grin is downright eerie with the horror makeup. “I just wanted to say hi before we get started with the…” Her voice trails off as she stares at Dash. And not because he’s unceremoniously devouring everything in sight; she’s staring at his chest. “Hey, how’d you get the amulet?”
Dash stops eating and shrugs casually. “Found it outside.”
“Huh. Donovan must have dropped it. Why don’t you give it to me, and I’ll bring it back to him?”
Dash’s right hand moves to the amulet and his fist closes around it. “No, it’s okay. I’ll give it to him myself.”
“It’s not a problem at all,” Sarah tells him. “I’m on my way to see him right now—”
“I said no!” Dash shouts at her. Both Sarah and I take an instinctive step backward, and several people nearby glance over at us.
“Dash!” I hiss. “Just give her the stupid thing. Your costume is fine without it.”
“It needs to go back to its rightful owner,” Sarah says forcefully.
“It’s mine! I found it, I’m keeping it! Those people don’t deserve it!” His hand still closed around the amulet, Dash turns and runs, shoving past a group of people waiting for food. He disappears through a rear door of the cafeteria.
