by Corey Edward
“Good job, Frankie,” I said, slapping him on the back. “I knew you could do it.”
“You knew it before I even knew it,” he said. “I meant what I said up there, dude. Thank you.”
“We’re all so proud of you,” said Enisa. “You rocked.”
“Thanks, guys,” he said. “Maybe it’s time I made like Harry Styles and went solo.”
The DJ came back on and reminded everyone to cast their votes for best costume, because they were due to be counted in a matter of minutes. I looked at Molly and we both nodded.
Operation Candy Corn was a go.
We walked back to the paper mache ghost box and got in line, standing behind the Joker and a few villains. Then, we each took ballots and wrote “ENISA YOUSEFI” on them. I grabbed her hand before plopping them in and we whispered under our breath:
“Riggerio.”
Then we placed our now-glowing ballots into the box and returned to our friends. Enisa was waiting with bated breath, her face cold and stoic.
“It’s done,” I said. “You’ll win.”
“It has to be more,” she whispered in reply. “I have to do more. Or else it’s just going to keep happening.”
“You don’t have to do this if you’re scared,” said Molly. “We can always undo the spell.”
“No. Something needs to be done. Not just for me, but for everyone in this school. I need to become the Halloween Queen and wear my crown with pride.”
When she spoke, she was full of bravery and conviction, the likes of which I hadn’t seen from her in a while. I only hoped she’d carry that with her up to the stage and make me just as proud as Frankie had.
The DJ announced that dance time was officially over. The votes, he said, had been counted and four winners had been decided: two boys, two girls. The two boys were Adam Melendez and Eric Fisher, a Jedi knight and an ogre pounding their chests and cheering as they crawled up to the stage.
The girls?
Sophie Crane and Enisa Yousefi.
The applause dimmed at the mention of Enisa’s name. People murmured to one another, openly wondering how this girl who nobody knows could possibly have been in the running for the crown.
All in all, not a great start for Operation Candy Corn.
I exchanged worried looks with Molly. Was this really a good plan? Or was it doomed to end in disaster? Could I really have done something counterproductive — or worse yet, outright damaging — to my best friend?
“Come on up,” the DJ said. “One lucky boy and one lucky girl out of these four will be crowned Halloween King and Queen. Let’s have a round of applause for our four nominees!”
Too late to wonder now. The four contestants lined up beside one another on the stage. Eric and Adam were flexing their muscles while Sophie beamed at her adoring fans. Enisa was smiling, but it was uncertain, suspicious. She looked out-of-place up there next to Sophie, Marie Anntoinette incarnate, let them eat cake.
Mr. Whateley, principal of Dunwich High and ominous Maine sailor impersonator, stepped out from behind the curtain. He had apparently embraced his persona with open arms, wearing a yellow raincoat and green boots that squeaked as he made his way onto the stage.
“Hello, Dunwich Dragons,” he said, holding up two envelopes. “Are you excited to find out who your next Halloween King and Queen are?”
The crowd went wild. They weren’t just ready; they were chomping at the bit. And the four contestants on the stage looked just as anxious. Enisa’s presence had added a strange air of tension to the otherwise festive proceedings.
How would they react when she won?
“Please give a round of applause for your Halloween King…” Mr. Whateley opened the envelope and smiled at the name. “Mr. Eric Fisher!”
The ogre-dressed jackass beat his chest, jumped into the air and ran around the stage shouting. He then picked up Sophie and planted a kiss right on her cheek, who turned a shade of scarlet that was visible through her opaque face paint. Mr. Whateley turned around and picked up the orange Halloween King crown off of the table, placing it on Eric’s head.
“Congratulations, Eric. Now that we have our king, it’s time to announce this year’s Halloween Queen…” He opened up the other envelope, reached in and pulled out a name. He raised an eyebrow, cleared his throat, and then read what was written there. What Molly and I had magically written there. “Enisa Yousefi?”
The crowd went bone silent. Eric stopped celebrating and Sophie stopped beaming. An awkward tension hung heavy in the air between all of us, everyone at the dance. I feared in that moment that we’d made a terrible mistake. And now, Enisa would be the one to suffer.
Then, applause broke out. It wasn’t as exuberant or enthusiastic as before, but it was there, and it eased some of the fear. Nobody booed or said anything derogatory. All in all, a decent response. I let out a sigh of relief.
Mr. Whateley placed the crown on top of her head. And then, Enisa held out her hand and politely asked for the microphone from Mr. Whateley. It was this part that made my heart lurch in fear, though we had discussed it beforehand. How would her words affect the mood of the dance?
I pondered a spell, but stopped myself before I could cast one. This was Enisa’s time to shine. The moment belonged to her and nobody else.
“Hello, everyone,” she began, speaking a bit too close to the microphone at first. “Thank you for electing me your Halloween Queen. I… I realize that this probably isn’t what you expected, to say the least. But it’s not what I expected either. I didn’t expect anybody to clap for me, or be happy I won. And yet, you were. So thanks for that.
“As you know, I moved to Dunwich Heights with my family back in sixth grade. We could no longer live in Lebanon without fearing for our lives. Our neighbor’s home was struck by a bomb one month before we fled into the night, hoping to escape persecution. We found a home here in America, and I found friendship that changed my life. And you know, I’m… I’m really not that different from all of you. I’ve loved and I’ve lost. I bleed and I cry. I have friends, real friends, who would do anything for me and I for them. The only real differences between the two of us are the faith I have and the clothes I wear.”
She was so brave up there, and so eloquent. The way she plunged the crowd into silence was mesmerizing. I had heard her story before, but not like this. Not in front of so many people.
“I’ve decided I’m running for student body president for the upcoming school year,” she went on. “And I want to do it for everyone at Dunwich High who feels like their voice just isn’t being heard. I’m done being a victim. I’m done turning the other cheek and not fighting back. I want to fight for everyone else who’s ever felt like they can’t. I accept your vote as Halloween Queen and hopefully, I can one day accept your nomination as president of the Dunwich High student body.”
It was the second part of Operation Candy Corn — the announcement that she was stepping up to run for student body president — and it was the one I was most anxious about. We had given her a platform, but how would the crowd receive it?
The answer was better than I ever could’ve asked for. That single proclamation of her candidacy did it. The crowd broke into applause that was no longer half-hearted or hesitant, but welcoming. They went as wild for her as they did for Frankie — because who wouldn’t support someone unfairly targeted for their religion? Who wouldn’t love a girl standing up to the bullies of the world, fighting them tooth and nail?
Who wouldn’t love an underdog coming back after the bullying and abuse to be named president of the Dunwich High student body?
The answer, it seemed, was Sophie Crane.
“Bullshit,” she shrieked, louder than all the clapping. “There’s no way she won. No way. I demand a recount.”
“The votes were counted, fair and square,” said Mr. Whateley. “She did win. And frankly, I like her costume. I loved those books.”
“Her costume’s dumb. I can’t remember the last dystopian novel
I’ve read with a Muslim as the hero.”
“You read?” said Enisa, and — Merlin bless her — it was an honest question. But neither the crowd nor Sophie took it that way. They laughed, and Sophie snarled.
“Of course I read,” she said. “What, do you think I’m stupid because I’m blonde?”
“Well, you think I’m a terrorist because I’m Muslim.”
“That’s beside the point. My sister won Halloween Queen all four years of being at Dunwich High. I won last year. I should win again. This costume cost more than your entire wardrobe.”
“I don’t know about that. Hijabs can be pretty pricey.”
She was working the crowd now; they were actually laughing with her, at Sophie, rather than at her.
Oh, how the tables had turned.
“I saw no less than a hundred people cast their votes for me. Watched them write it, even. Nobody even knows who she is,” Sophie continued. “I bet that Henry kid and his gang of weirdos rigged it!”
“Sophie,” Mr. Whateley replied, speaking in a milquetoast “scolding-a-naughty-toddler” tone. “Knock it off. She won fair and square.”
Now nobody was hiding their laughter. People took out their phones and snapped pics of Enisa, turning to each other and smiling. Sophie looked utterly ridiculous, getting so worked up over a costume contest, while Enisa looked calm, cool, and collected. For once, she was the true Queen of the school.
Was Operation Candy Corn actually this much of a success?
“I’m not putting up with being cheated out of something I was supposed to win,” Sophie snapped. She took one step toward Enisa, then another, until she was close enough to grab onto the crown. And that’s exactly what she did, reaching up and snatching it right off of Enisa’s head. “You want a war? You’ve got one. I’ll show you exactly who it is you’re messing with.”
“Not fair,” Enisa said, grabbing onto the crown and attempting to take it back. “That’s mine. I won. Not you. Me.”
“You can’t win. Nobody even likes you! You’re a terrorist!”
“Let go,” Enisa shouted, moving with her to the edge of the stage. Sophie still held on, furious, as Enisa twisted and squirmed beneath her grip on the trophy. “I said, let-”
Sophie leaned all the way back, throwing every ounce of her weight into the act of stealing the trophy. Enisa didn’t let her take it, though, her knuckles white as she held on for dear life, locked in a tug-of-war at the edge of the stage.
And then something appeared in Enisa’s eyes that I had never seen before.
Something that was so unlike her, I almost wondered for a second if she was another person entirely.
She didn’t just look angry.
She looked furious.
“Fine,” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “You want it? Then fucking take it!”
She let go of the crown.
Sophie lost her balance and staggered back, taking one step too close to the edge. Mr. Whateley stepped forward as if meaning to save her, but he was a second too late: she tumbled off the stage and landed on the ground with a hard thud.
The other two halves of the Girlicane, Bailey and Jade, ran to the edge and knelt down beside her. The beauty queen was rubbing her head and moaning, struggling to even sit up. The fall, though it was steep, couldn’t have been any more than four or five feet. Enough to sustain an injury, but not enough to incapacitate her.
“Oh my god,” Bailey shrieked. “I THINK SHE’S DEAD.”
She wasn’t dead — because clearly, she was sitting up just fine — but it didn’t matter. The crowd gasped anyway as if she were, struggling to process what they’d just witnessed. Enisa, the quietest, most studious girl in school… had she really…
Could she really?
Someone else screamed, then another.
Molly’s hands flew up to her mouth.
Enisa’s eyes opened wide as she realized what she had just done.
It hit me around the same time, too.
Shit.
How could I fix this?
Could I fix this?
“I’m sorry,” Enisa sputtered. “I- I didn’t mean to- I mean, she was fighting me and I panicked, I-”
It didn’t matter. The lights flickered, plunging the auditorium into darkness. And then there was another scream, this time from the back of the auditorium.
When they came back on, I turned to see it was none other than Miss Delaney, who had gone limp and apparently nearly fainted. She was being dragged into a chair by two teachers, her shoes scraping against the ground.
“Can someone call the paramedics?” Mr. Whateley called. “We have some injuries in the house. Uh, DJ? Start the music again. Everything’s going to be fine.”
So the DJ did, continuing on with the show as people rushed to both the librarian and the beauty queen’s aid. Enisa hurried down from the stage as Molly, Frankie and I ran for her as quick as our feet would take us. One of the teachers handed her a cup of water while she fanned herself, breathing in heavy, pained gasps.
“What happened?” Molly asked.
“She just collapsed right there while we were talking,” said Mrs. Bagely, the Biology teacher. “We haven’t gotten anything out of her yet, so I don’t know what’s going on.”
I knelt before Miss Delaney and looked up into her eyes. They were glazed over and her brow was slick with sweat. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she needed a hospital, quick. But I recognized it for what it was straight away:
She was having a vision.
“Should we call an ambulance?” asked the other teacher, who I didn’t recognize.
“No, no,” Miss Delaney said, waving them off. “I’ll be fine. I just… got a little overheated; that’s all.”
“But-”
“Please,” she insisted. “Leave me. I’d like to talk to my students, if that’s okay.”
Hesitantly, they obeyed, but still seemed to be keeping a watch on her from afar. My heart was thudding in my neck. What could she possibly have seen that upset her so?
“Miss Delaney,” I said, squatting down so that I was eye-level with her. “Are you really okay?”
“N-no, Henry,” she admitted. “I had a vision of something that has just come to pass. Something horrible.”
“What was it? What’d you see?”
“It’s your grandparents, Henry.” The world dropped out from under me. “They’re in grave danger.”
“My grandparents? Why?”
“Your grandmother… she thought it was a late trick-or-treater knocking at the door. But that thing standing there wasn’t a child. It wasn’t even a man.”
“What was it? What did it look like?” I swallowed dryly. “Tell me, Miss D. Please.”
“It was an undead abomination. A walking corpse in golden robes with a black pharaoh’s headdress. Once it had been a king, and it still thinks it is, though it reeks of the grave. Its foul, rotting flesh was wrapped in bandages and covered in worms. Your grandmother screamed as the dark being touched her and she vanished. Your grandfather came walking in to find out why she screamed. He saw the being and tried to run — bless his heart, he tried — but fell, and began to crawl away on the ground. The dark being stepped into your home, poisoning its light with his darkness, and touched your grandfather as well. He took him the same way he took your grandmother. Your Familiar-”
“What?” It’s a miracle I could even speak. “What happened to him?”
“He’s hiding. The being didn’t see him, but he is still terrified. He cries for you, Henry. You must go to him.”
I was frozen. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t walk. None of us could. All four of us were struck speechless.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out to see an unknown number was calling and put it up to my ear.
“H-hello?” I said, voice weak.
“Henry. This is Lord Zephriam,” came the voice of the Master Mage. “We have a problem.”
“What?”
; “I’ll be quick. We found Alexander Carter dead in his cell with an Ouroborus carved into his chest. He seems to have committed suicide.”
“How?”
“Merlin knows. Our worry now is that he may have found some loophole method to finish the Rite of Anubis and resurrect Narlothotep.”
“But it shouldn’t matter that he sacrificed himself.” At this point, I was only trying to convince myself. “Right? I destroyed the Grimoire, which was Narlothotep’s phylactery. His ghost is gone. He can’t come back.”
I thought for a second about what happened last Saturday, at the Wytch House. Tried going over every last little detail. I torched that Grimoire and watched as it turned to ash. Narlothotep’s spirit had left Carter’s body and dissipated. It was over.
It should be over.
But what if things weren’t as they seemed?
What if the Grimoire wasn’t…
The ground violently shook and the lights went out in the gymnasium, plunging the room into darkness. People stopped dancing and chatting as voices fell to surprised murmurs. Phones came out left and right, but — to everyone’s amazement — they were all dead, including mine. My connection with Zephriam was gone.
I hurried to the window on the gymnasium door and peered out at the city.
Everything was dark, including the flickering lights of downtown Boston, which normally shone so bright that they were easy to see from Dunwich High. The surrounding suburbs of Dunwich Heights were also dead, so pitch black that it may as well have been centuries ago.
It wasn’t just the school that lost power.
It was the entire city.
And that power outage had somehow disrupted all electronics, not just those connected to the grid.
I pulled out my phone, so panicked that I had almost forgotten it was now dead. Something was stirring there on its surface.
Something horrible.
The shape of a person was appearing through the darkness. I looked up to see that it wasn’t just coming through for me, but everybody. Even the screens on the televisions at both ends of the gym.
The man that appeared on every screen at the same time looked just like the one Miss Delaney had described seeing in her vision. Bandages were wrapped all over his decayed face so that only his mouth, chin and the glowing yellow pupils of his eyes were showing. He was wearing a black Egyptian headdress with a golden snake rising in the center. On his shoulders, there appeared to be the tops of golden robes.
