Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (7)

I pretended to browse. Every shop in town was itching to transform by August, as if Ash Grove didn’t already look creepy as fuck on a hot July day. October first brought a special pinch of spooky. It highlighted the gothic architecture and narrow little alleys and roads. Orange and black swathed every store front. Our old cobblestone walkways added to the eerie aesthetic, and hundreds of weeping willows blew and snaked their tendrils as if to snatch you from your stroll. The old pointy stone church with its ominous gravestones behind wrought iron covered their front and back with pumpkins. From their blood red door to the fencing and gravestones, every patch of grass held an orange orb, free for any child to pluck and carve and call their own. It was a charming, if not quirky, town when it came to Halloween. Hallows Fest was only the start of it. October thirty-first, on actual Halloween, shit got even weirder. It was sadistic, really. No one was aware of what they were actually celebrating. What really happened. I was feigning a perusal of a knight’s costume when I was blessedly interrupted. “Oh, Dr. Cove, I didn’t recognize you when you walked in. Sorry about that. Can I help you find anything?”

I nudged up my glasses and bounced on the balls of my feet. Aw, aren’t I cute? “Ames, please. Yeah, I have a kind of strange request.”

“I love strange.” She smiled. “Do you remember me? You came to my high school to counsel the new kids.”

I chuckled, already tired of the interaction. “Of course I remember you, Yesenia. How’s Javier and the kids?” She was older now. A good five years past high school. And I still looked exactly the same . . . Luckily she didn’t notice. She wasn’t an original, an old Ash Grover. But Marcelene was.

She giggled. “As crazy as ever. I swear to God, I’m going to kill him in his sleep if he doesn’t get the front decorated soon. We’ll be the only house on the block without as much as a jack-o’-lantern if he doesn’t pull himself away from soccer one Saturday and actually get it done. Oh, and the kids. They’re very excited for the festivities, like every year. But enough about me. Is there . . . anyone special in your life these days?”

Ha. Fuck no. Never. Not in a million years. “Ah, I wish. Hearing about you guys and the kids . . .” I sighed. “ . . . makes me wish I’d found that same love too.”

Yesenia took me off guard and gripped my hands. “You’ll find your person, Dr. Cove. I know you will. In fact . . .” She flipped my hand over and pulled it closer to her dark-brown eyes.

I laughed nervously. “My hands dirty or . . .?”

She traced a line down my palm, clicking her tongue. “Not what I was expecting . . . You’ve got some secrets, don’t you, Ames Cove?”

My jaw tensed on instinct, but my mask remained intact. “Caught me, I have a major sweet tooth. Don’t tell my trainer.”

Her brow furrowed, ignoring my rehearsed dwebery. “I definitely see a woman coming into your life. You’ve already met her. You both fall hard and fast in love . . . but this line next to it is very strange to me.”

“What’s it say?” I ask, a little curious what meaning someone with her distinct bloodline could pull from the ridges in my skin, even if she were tragically and laughably wrong. Love wasn’t in the cards, or palms, for a thing like me.

She hummed and shook her head. “I must be reading it wrong. Most people’s love lines cross off or end, you know, with dying. Normal, let’s grow old together stuff. But your love and life partner line runs parallel with death. Like, side by side as if…,” she trailed off until finally pulling her gaze away and dropping my hand. “Like I said, I probably am reading it wrong. My abuela would know more than me. She taught me to read palms and fortunes.”

“Neat party trick.” I chuckled nervously. “So, um, onto my unorthodox request?”

“Yes! Sorry, just knock me out next time I start talking too much.”

Don’t tempt me.

“So there’s this woman . . . She’s new in town—”

Yesenia jumped up and down, clapping. “I knew it! See? I told you. And you’re only, what, thirty-something? Plenty of time to get married and settle down. Now tell me about the lucky lady.”

Thirty-something. Lucky lady. If she only knew.

“I’m going to need this to be a secret. Can you do that for me?”

After thirty more minutes of agonizing, chatterbox, over-fucking-excited discourse, Yesenia was on board. On my way out the door, she called my name. I turned and a tiny, bright-orange package flew to my chest. I caught it with one hand. “Candy?”

“Sweet tooth.” She gave a small smile.

With a wave, I nodded. “Oh, yeah. Bye.”

Sugar. A normal vice. If only. No, my addiction went deeper. Was it our affliction or the years that made us strange? I opened the pack and shot back the candy corn, the waxy, chemical residue sticking to my teeth. Fuck, how do kids like this? My treat was coming soon. And it wasn’t fucking candy.





CHAPTER 5





Blythe





THE SWEEPING





A person should always choose a costume which is in direct contrast to her own personality.

The Great Pumpkin

Charlie Brown





The week passed in a blur of sameness. I passed by Mr. Moore on my way up the driveway to my car. Standing on the sidewalk with his broom, like he did every day, he swept . . . the road. Smiling, I gave a polite wave. I hadn’t spoken to the elderly man who lived upstairs very often since moving in three weeks ago. Mr. Moore gave me the tour of the tiny basement and gave me free rein to the washer and dryer. He only asked that I not play loud music or have friends over late at night. Neither would be a problem, of course. I never listened to anything loud, preferring subtitles even on the Tim Burton movies I streamed on my phone. A part of me knew I needed to be alert at all times. That was probably where my dark circles came from and why they were permanently imprinted under my eyes. I rarely slept. Instead, I was a night owl, rationalizing that if I stayed up late, there were fewer hours of night. It made sense in my head. Fewer minutes of vulnerability where he could find me. He was going to find me. And the sick thing about that was . . . I deserved it. I deserved what he was about to dole out. It was why he was chasing me: punishment.