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Chapter Text

October 31st was hands down one of your most favorite days, or rather nights, of the year. All the costumes, the parties, and most of all, the celebration of all things fearful and fanciful. 

In keeping with the spirit, you’d worked very hard on your Sherlock Holmes costume, opting for silver and grey colors over traditional browns and tans. The only bright bold color you used was for the necktie. And of course, what Holmes costume was complete without an oversized magnifying glass? A famous literary detective wasn’t a scary costume, per se, but it was something near and dear to your heart. You were very pleased with how it turned out, and could scarcely wait to show it off!

You had a full night planned, and your most favorite person in the world was even coming along for the ride! You could feel it in your bones, this was going to be a Halloween you’d never forget!

As the night unfolds, you’ll be proven right, but not for the reasons you were thinking of. 

Chapter Text

   “But you promised,” you whined, trailing behind him through the police station. A silvery wisp of whimsy in an orderly, dreary pool of uniforms, paperwork, and scowls. 

  “I know, but this important,” Dom didn’t even look at you as he scanned some files in his hands, somehow avoiding all obstacles while reading.  

You sighed. How many times had you heard that excuse. You followed him all the way into his little office, tucked away right across from the cells where they kept drunks. He clicked on a desk lamp as he laid the folders out. Your heart sank in further disappointment at how many there were. Dom caught your expression. 

“I’m sorry (Y/N), but this really can’t wait. Someone’s going around chasing people off roads with a sword on horseback. It might be gang related, might not be, but either way the higher ups want this solved ASAP.” In the safety and privacy of his office, he leaned in to give a small kiss on the cheek and a reassuring smile. “There’s always next year. You go ahead and have fun without me.”

What could you do but agree? It wasn’t a good look to insist Dom spend time with you at a Halloween party instead of finding and stopping a criminal- no matter how badly you wanted to. So off you went.

The crisp night air was refreshing after being inside the stuffy police station. As you walked, your mind worked. You didn’t feel like going to that party anymore. Not without Dom to keep you company. It just wouldn’t be any fun without him. So your new dilemma was finding a way to spend your Halloween without wasting it. It was a puzzle you were having trouble putting together because your thoughts kept swinging back to Dom and his stupid case.

The pieces all fell into place. 

Dom let you look at the files. You’d kept up with the stories in the newspapers. If you cracked the case, then not only would Dom no longer have anything to keep him after hours at work, but he’d have to admit you were as much a crime solver as he was. Not just silly play acting for your radio shows. You flagged down a cab and asked to be dropped off at the edge of the city. 

The St. Louis countryside could be considered peaceful if one didn’t mind the incessant chorus of bugs and insects buzzing, chirping, clicking into the night. You walked along a dirt road, flashlight in hand, carefully inspecting it as you went. You were looking for horse hoof prints. 

While most people preferred automobiles these days a fair amount of folks still used the pack animals to haul any number of goods around, as well as just for simple transportation. Heck, the Mounted Police unit of St. Louis was still very much alive and well. You would know, you liked spending time around the horses a good deal more than some of the officers there. That said, people liked to ride their horses only so far away from where the animals could be fed and stabled. In this area there were no such places. However, there had been several incidents of a horseman running cars off the road and causing accidents. Your plan was: find the stable: find the culprits: call Dom: rub it in his face during the arrest. 

A fog was beginning to roll in. The full moon hung in the sky, an all seeing eye casting its glow upon the world below. The mist didn’t help nor hinder you, so you paid it little mind as you continued to scrutinize the dirt. You were laser focused on you task, not bothering to look up until you’d come across a pair of horseshoes…still attached to the hooves… which were attached to the horse. A large, imposing black stallion snorted at you. Its eyes gleamed ruby red. An ebony bridle on its snout. You pointed the light of your flashlight up to look at the person in the saddle. You thought your eyes must be playing tricks on you. The rider had no head.

…The rider has no head!

Your feet were backing you away on their own. The horse pawed at the ground excitedly. A chill went down your spine as you heard metal scrape against leather. The moonlight glinted off the silvery blade of the long sword he held high above his torso and broad shoulders. That was enough for you. You turned and sprinted for the woods near the road, hoping the foliage would slow down your pursuer. Your panic spiked as you heard the galloping of hooves behind you. You threw yourself over the shrubs and tree roots, ducking branches. By the sounds of crashing behind you, the trees weren’t being as much of a barrier as you’d hoped. You jumped over yet more small plants and dove behind a tree, shutting off your flashlight and trying to make yourself as small as possible. 

Seconds later, the horse charged into your view. The rider pulled on the reins, pausing for a moment. You shrunk a little lower to the ground, watching the shoulders and torso shift around, as if it was searching for something. He then picked a direction and rode off into the wilderness. You waited until you could no longer hear hooves plodding before getting up and making your way back to the road.

This wasn’t what you’d had in mind when you’d decided to come out here. Nobody had mentioned the horseman being headless either, seems like a big oversight on the part of the witnesses, and shouldn’t such a thing only be happening in rural New York? The Headless Horseman was Sleepy Hollow’s thing! At any rate, he was active. Meaning if you could get word to Dom to bring a police squad out there, they might be able to catch him. Surely there was a phone booth out here somewhere, you just had to follow the telephone wires overhead, strung together by the endless line of sturdy new telephone poles. You just hoped you’d find it before the horseman found you. 

It felt like ages before the familiar rectangular shape of the phone booth came into sight. You ran in and shut the door, feeling safer already. You dug around in your pocket for the required cents and waited patiently for the operator to answer. You asked her to put you through to the St. Louis Police Station, Revenuer Dominic Drago’s office. 

Dom chewed on his pipe, reading the file over again a third time because he’d lost focus the previous two times and failed to absorb any of the information. His mind kept wandering back to you and the sad disappointed look you’d had on your face when you’d left. It wasn’t that he meant to keep breaking off dates with you. He hadn’t been lying when he said this case was important. This was his job, and he was obligated to do it. It didn’t stop him from idly wondering what you were doing at that moment. Probably playing ring toss, bobbing for apples, or any silly party game people like him pretended were too beneath them to engage in, but you wouldn’t give a second though about. He let the file flop back onto his desk as he rubbed his eyes with a tired sigh.

His telephone rang. 

Dom picked up reluctantly, expecting to be hit with more work, or information. Your charming voice coming through was the last thing he’d expected. His surprise wore off quickly however, as he sighed again.

  “(Y/N), unless this is an emergency I really need to-“ 

He went quiet as you cut him off, talking excitedly, insisting this was an emergency, you’d found his headless horseman!

  “A what?” Dom said confused. There was a click of understanding in his brain. Accompanied by a knot of dread. “Wait, where are you?…You’re WHERE!?” 

Outside his office, a trio of officers all curiously turned their heads to the revenuer’s door. Drago was often such a quiet and unassuming fellow. They’d never heard him yell before. 

Back in the phone booth, you were doing your best to explain the situation and your reasoning. You really didn’t need another lecture from Dom, especially not while you were being actively hunted by a psycho on a horse with a sword. Speaking of whom….

You heard the horse’s whinny outside in the mist. Your fur puffed for a second. The steady beat of horse hooves reached your ears.

  “Dom, listen I gotta go, I think he found me.”

As you said that, the horse appeared from the mist, headless rider astride it, inky black cape swaying in the cold breeze. The rider held up a Jack-O-Lantern with a twisted grin carved into it. It lit on fire all of a sudden.

  “Could the Horseman always use fire?” You asked half to yourself. You could hear Dom on the line getting anxious, insisting you tell him what was happening, “I’m gonna make a run for the bridge. I’ll see you soon!…I hope,” you added that last part as you dropped the phone and slid the door open.

The Horseman threw the flaming pumpkin at you. You jumped out of the way with a yelp. It smashed into the phone booth, igniting the loose papers and litter inside. 

At the police station, the three officers had gotten nosey.  They pressed their ears to the wall near Dom’s office door, straining to hear what he was going on about in there, when the agent came charging out of his office. The door swung open wide enough to hit them square in their faces on his way out.

  “Kinsly!” He shouted, “Grab some men and follow me! Hurry!” 

Running for your life out in the countryside, it felt like you, the horseman, and his horse, were the only living beings on the planet. No one would hear you scream. Would anyone even find your body? If you’d just gone to that stupid party like you’d first planned you wouldn’t be in this mess!

You could see the old foot bridge coming into view. If the Horseman held true to form, he wouldn’t cross it. If he did, you’d jump. You’d rather take your chances swimming away in the river than keep trying to outrun a horse. As you got to the edge of the structure though, you realized something: you didn’t hear hoof beats anymore. You grabbed onto the railing of the bridge and turned to face the monster and his steed. They were no where to be seen.

Not that you weren’t grateful to be left alone, it was just confusing. He’d seemed pretty determined to get you a few minutes ago. You leaned on the railing, panting, waiting for your heart rate to go down to normal again. At least you’d have no problem waiting for Dom to come get you now. You could already hear him going on about how you needed to be more careful, to stop putting yourself in risky situations, you’re not a trained officer of the law like he is, so on and so forth. You hated being lectured, but you’d be so happy to hear his voice in person again.

The distant, yet growing, sound of galloping hooves pricked your ears again. Strangely, this time coming from the other side of the water. You crouched low to the ground, peeking out between the railings, hoping the dark and the fog would be enough to hide you from sight. You did see a man on horseback coming riding up the path on the opposite side, dressed similar to the one chasing you before, but something was amiss about him. His horse was different too. Coal black, but not as big and muscular. You watched as they turned off the path into a thicket.

Apparently, getting chased around by an angry horseman lobbing fireballs at you wasn’t enough to teach you a lesson after all, because you followed that guy into the wilderness, no hesitation. You did your best to muffle your footsteps. Eventually, you heard voices rising over the din of insects and frogs. You couldn’t make out what they were saying. Pulling away some errant tree branches you saw a clearing with a small rusty shack in the middle. The horse was tied nearby, as four men, including the Headless Horseman who wasn’t so headless after all, he’d been wearing an oversized coat over his head, milled around the open door. It was lit inside by a lantern or something. You could just make out the haphazard second hand equipment they had in there.

Moonshiners! 

Of course, the Horseman act was to scare people away from their operation! So Dom had been right after all, partially anyways. It was gang related, but none of the big fish going by this sorry state of affairs. You were about to make your way stealthily back to the road when a large spider chose that moment to dangle off your cap in front of your face by a strand of webbing. You yelped, tore off the cap and started stomping on it. You heard a gruff angry yell.

  “Hey!”

You froze up. You’d flinched your way into the clearing, exposing your presence. The four gruff men scowled at you distrustingly. You shrugged and smiled at them awkwardly. 

  “Trick or treat?” 

One of them pulled a rifle off the interior wall. You turned and booked it back into the brush. You made it all the way back to the road. Bright headlights of a car momentarily blinded you as you were trying to run across. Tires screeched, grinding against the dirt, as it braked to a halt. More bootleggers!? You heard a car door open and some one stepped out.

  “(Y/N)?” 

Your heart did a somersault for joy, “Dom!” 

The man with the rifle came hollering out of the brush. He stopped short when he realized you weren’t alone anymore. Rarely did you see Dom angry. If looks could kill, the glare he was sending that guy would’ve barbecued him on the spot. A proper police car pulled up behind Dom’s vehicle a few seconds later, and that sent the man running back the way he came.

Dom pointed the officers in the direction to go. You piped up there were four men and a shed in there. With the more pressing situation being handled, Dom finally got a moment to check on you.

  “Are you alright?” He noted that your Holmes costume, something you'd taken such pride in, had been ripped and torn in dozens of places. The cap was even missing. 

  “I’m okay,” you assured him. “It’s only scratches.” 

  “Good. Good,” he patted your shoulders, leaning in so he was eye level with you. “Now explain to me, what are on Earth were you thinking?”

  “Um.” 

It didn’t take long for the cops to round up the moonshiners. They were brought back in cuffs and confessed on the spot to their scheme of parading around a fake Headless Horseman to scare away locals and lookie-loos to keep their little brewing shed a secret. 

  “And we would’ve gotten away with it too,” one of them said. “If it weren't for that overgrown trick-or-treater.” 

An officer had returned your cap. It was stepped on and tarnished, but spider free. You placed it back on your head proudly, a warm glow of accomplishment inside you. The officers had everything under control. Dom ushered you into his car and began the drive back into the city. 

  “You know, Halloween’s not over yet,” you said casually. “I bet we could still make that party, now that your case is solved.” 

For as worried as he’d been for your safety, and how much you drove him crazy, Dom couldn’t stop the little smile from forming on his face. 

  “You went through all this, just so we could go on our date?” 

  “Admittedly, it got hairier than I’d anticipated, but it all worked out. I still don’t know how they did that bit with the flaming Jack-O-Lantern though- OH!”

Dom saw him the same time you did. He slammed on the brakes. The car came to a halt ten feet or so in front of the black horse with ruby red glowing eyes. The Headless Horseman sat tall and ghastly in the saddle. The two of you could only stare through the windshield. And then the horseman…bowed?

He bent at the waist a few seconds. The only acknowledgment you got. He righted himself, pulled the reins of the bridle, and he and his steed disappeared into the mist without a trace. Everything was still. The only noise was the steady mechanical thrum of the car engine. 

   “How about we go to my place, have some scotch, and pass out candy to trick-or-treaters,” Dom’s voice finally broke the tension. 

  “That sounds good too,” you nodded. 

Chapter Text

The autumn leaves danced in a swirl across the dirt road as you practically skipped to your destination. You were so excited to be going out with Freckle for Halloween! He’d told you stories before about how his mother, predictably, had forbidden he and his cousin from participating in “Devil’s Night” in any form when they were kids. Rocky had, also predictably, ignored that rule completely and dragged Freckle along for the ride, sneaking out after the woman was in bed asleep and prowling around for the forbidden sugary treasures known as candy. Also doing pranks. Lots of pranks.  That usually ended in either Rocky getting seriously beaten up or somebody’s house on fire. One thing Mrs. McMurray had to admit was that neither of these things were possible if Freckle spent Halloween with you instead of his cousin. You were a responsible adult…dressed up as a story book character with plans to go play carnival games and win toys as prizes. 

You felt under your cloak for the special parcel you were carrying. A full bag of tasty candies you were planning on sharing with Freckle. You could already see his face lighting up, making an adorable expression of awe and gratitude. 

You weren’t even all the way up the steps to the front porch of the McMurray house when the door burst open. Mrs. McMurray descended on you with the wrath of a harpy, wielding a broom. 

  “BE GONE YE LOATHSOME DEVIL! BACK TO THE PITS WITH YE IN THE NAME OF THE LORD ALMIGHTY!” 

You shrieked, holding up your hands defensively, “It’s just me! Mrs. McMurray! It’s just me! It’s a costume!” 

  “What?” She blinked confused. Comprehension dawned on her, swiftly followed by her trademark condescending disappointment. “Ach, it’s only you. Well don’t just stand there, get in before they steal ye away!”

Before you could respond, she was tugging you into the house. She swiftly locked the door behind you. 

  “(Y/N)?” Freckle poked his head out from the kitchen. 

  “Hey, I’m here to pick you up,” you smiled brightly. “You ready to go?” 

  “Um,” Freckle shuffled shyly into view. He was wearing his nice suit, and wringing the brim of a bowler hat in his hands. Your mood lifted even more.

  “Is that your Dr. Watson costume?” He nodded meekly. “Oh, I love it!” 

  “Th-Thanks,” he stammered. He was about to say something else when his mother cut in.

  “We’ll now there’s two of ye, I can go get the priest while ye defend the homestead in my absence,”she said, like you were going to war and she was off to fetch the cavalry.

  “Defend the… from what?” You asked. 

  “The wee folk. The little devils what did that!” She pointed accusingly at her windows. 

They were smeared in egg yolks and rotten fruits. You’d been too preoccupied with a raging Mrs. McMurray to notice before.

  “Ohhhh,” you said, understanding now. “How is a priest going to help? Just hand out candy and the kids will leave you alone.” 

Mrs. McMurray huffed. She drew herself up, looking like a very displeased owl with its feathers ruffled.

  “T’weren’t children what did that.”

  “…Teenagers?” 

  “Calvin yer in charge until I get back,” she said, putting her hat on like a soldiers helmet. 

  “Yes, Mum,” he said.

  “Godspeed, the both of ye.” 

With that, she hurried out of the house into the night. Freckle dutifully locked the door behind her. You put your hands on your hips and shook your head. You’d seen this before: Stingy old stick-in-the-mud lady won’t hand out candy to the trick-or-treaters, and some of them take that as an invitation to “Trick”. All she had to do was leave out a candy bowl or something. This was an open and shut case as far you could tell. Still, you were getting some one on one time with Freckle out of it. 

  “Hmm, well we got the house to ourselves for a bit. What do you wanna do,” you asked. Freckle held a cross in each hand. He offered one to you.

  “Defend the homestead,” he said completely deadpan. It was a little uncanny. 

  “Oh kay,” you accepted the cross. It felt clumsy in your hand.“You know they’re trick-or-treaters, not vampires, right?” 

Freckle shook his head, “It’s neither. It’s the wee folk who live under the hills.”

  “…You’re not saying gophers egged your house are you?”

  “No,” Freckle facepalmed. He looked around cautiously, he whispered, “It’s…fairies.” 

That he seemed completely serious irked you a bit. Fairies were in the same category of nonexistent fictional creatures as ghosts as far as you were concerned. However, upfront denying they were real to his face while he’s worked up probably would do more harm than good. You opted to play along for the time being instead. 

   “Alright. Fairies. How do we make them go away then?” 

   “Mum says we need to pray, and rebuke the fairies in the name of the lord. Cast them out in Jesus name.”

  “And how’s that been working out so far?”

As if on cue, something fell upstairs, then got dragged across the floor. Your tail puffed. Only you and Freckle were supposed to be in the house! You looked at him, hoping for some kind of explanation. It was a raccoon. Rocky was in the house.

His eyes met yours, “Not well.” 

That was the moment the lights in the house chose to flicker and die. While fumbling around for your flashlight, you swore you heard little footsteps across the hard wood floors. You snapped on the spotlight and shined it around, straining to see whatever that had been. Freckle was right you’d left him, he squinted as your beam hit him. You noticed that the framed pictures on the walls in the living room were all suddenly upside down. You couldn’t for the life of you remember if they’d been that way before the lights went out. The skeptic in you was insisting there had to be a rational explanation for all of this, but the voice was faint compared to your Fight-or-Flight kicking in. 

  “So, uh,” you stammered a moment, trying to reign in the impulse to run out of the house screaming. Fairies or not, you had to stay calm. “H-How did this start? Why are they bothering you guys?”

Freckle’s ears pinned back, his brow furrowed as his hands wrung the cross he was holding. He wouldn’t meet your gaze. In fact, he seemed embarrassed. 

  “I…Mum found a Fairy Ring in the back yard the other day. And today…I was out raking leaves and…I raked up a few of the mushrooms. I broke the ring! And now we’re cursed!” 

He was about two seconds away from hyperventilating. You put a hand on his shoulder, something to keep him grounded in reality. 

  “Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out,” you said. You only had a passing knowledge of Fairy Rings and what they did. When it came to Irish Folklore, you’d always been more interested in Banshees and Hell Hounds than Fey Folk. “You broke their thing, and they’re retaliating. So the logical thing to do would be to apologize or appease them with an offering. Have you tried just saying sorry?” 

   “Would that work?” Freckle blinked at you, dumbfounded at the idea it could be that simple. You shrugged. 

  “Worth a shot.” 

Freckle gulped. Taking a few deep breaths, he positioned himself in the middle of the living room.

  “Uh, Hello Fairies. This is Calvin McMurray of the McMurray clan speaking. Uh- I’m the one who, um, broke your fairy ring. And I’m really, really, really, sorry I did! It was an accident, I swear! Please don’t curse me and my family with bad luck for all eternity!”

It was dead silent in the dark house. The two of you looked around for any signs the Fairies had heard him for a minute. Nothing happened. You exchanged glances. Freckle let out a breath he’d been holding, allowing his shoulders to relax. Peace at last. 

“We should get the lights back on before Mum comes home,” he said, making his way towards you. “The fuse box is in the basement- AHHGG!”

   “Freckle!”

He’d fallen to the floor and was being dragged by his pant legs by a crew of ugly little creatures with wings and beaks. They were heading for the back door, which was wide open and waiting. 

  “(Y/N)! Help!” He screamed as he dug his claws into the floor, leaving long trails of scratches. 

You jumped into action. You dropped your flashlight as you used both hands to grab Freckle’s hands. You pulled as hard as you could, halting the Fairies’ progress. They chirruped in annoyance. One of them made a loud whistle. 

Next thing you knew, something flat and heavy crashed on top of your head, causing you to loose your grip. You were aware of Freckle screaming the whole fifteen seconds it took you to recover. Little twerps dropped one of the picture frames on you. You saw Freckle’s frightened face as it disappeared down the back porch steps outside. You knew where they were going- to the Fairy Ring. If they threw him in it, he’d be gone forever!

Apologizing hadn’t worked. The only option was appeasement. You had to give them something. Something mischievous vengeful Fairies would want more than a cat. You removed the bag of candy from your inner pocket and opened it. You ran outside, then threw it as far as you could into the back yard. It landed not too far from the Fairies dragging Freckle, its sweet contents spilling all over the grass. The Fairies paused.

All together, they dropped Freckle’s legs, going for the candy instead. They each greedily grabbed up a piece, tore through the wrapping and started munching. They made high pitch trilling noises that reminded you of bird songs. Maybe that meant they were happy? 

Your ears picked up movement behind you. You turned around in time to see a whole swarm of the little beasts flying at you like locust. You jumped to the side with a shout. Freckle covered his head and stayed lying on the ground. It was like wolves to a kill. The Fairies fought over every scrap of candy like mad, dragging all the treats they could carry to the Fairy Ring. Then they winked out of existence. Each one of them.

You walked into the backyard to Freckle.

  “Is it over?” He sounded muffled since he refused to lift his head. 

  “I think so. Are you alright?” 

He nodded as he sat up. He turned over to see the Fairy Ring, complete and intact. He gasped, pointing, “The mushrooms I pulled up are growing again!”

  “I think that means you’re good now,” you smiled and helped him up. 

By the time Mrs. McMurray arrived home with the priest in tow the two of you had already gotten the power back on and restored all furniture and pictures to their rightful places. You and Freckle had been relaxing in the kitchen eating apple slices when you heard the front door open, Mrs. McMurray’s voice booming throughout the house. She appeared in the doorway, incredulous. 

  “What are ye two doing lollygagging in here!? The house is under attack!”

  “It’s okay Mum,” Freckle said happily. “The wee folk won’t bother us anymore. We appeased them.” 

  “What on earth are ye talking about?”

  “Long story short Mrs. McMurray,” you said, leaning back in your chair, proudly, “I was right. All they wanted was some candy. They went away right after.” 

Mrs. McMurray stood there, puzzled. Her ears swiveled around, searching for noises of little feet, or wings, or movement. She only heard the holy man she’d found walk up to join her in the threshold. Freckle took one look at the tall rail-thin man dressed in black and spat out bits of chewed up apple. 

  “Reverend Arbogast!?” 

  “Boy,” he said sternly with a vague air of familiarity. The frown on his face seemed rather permanent. You made out only the barest hint of surprise on him. 

Both you and Mrs.McMurray glanced between the two curiously. 

  “You know him,” you asked Freckle. He gulped. You could see he was putting in effort to not freak out. 

  “Y-Yeah,” Freckle stammered, “he, uh, blesses the drinks.” 

Your ears went up, understanding. You glanced at Mrs. McMurray hoping she somehow wouldn’t figure it out too. She had that ruffled feathers look again. The Reverend’s mouth was a tight thin line, holding himself back from saying something even more incriminating. 

  “Calvin David McMurray, how could you,” she started. You braced for impact, along with the other two, “not mention this fine upstanding man of God to me?” 

  “What?” You said.

   “What?” Freckle’s mouth puckered like he’d swallowed something sour, as he stared wide-eyed and gobsmacked.  

Abelard, for his part, just blinked a few times, wondering if he’d heard correctly. Mrs. McMurray was staring up at this man with a soft little smile, her hands folded politely in front of her, appearing every inch the sweet old lady type you knew very well she wasn’t. For the briefest moment you feared the Fairies had kidnapped Mrs. McMurray, and this was her Changeling replacement.  

  “It’s a long ways back to Defiance, and ye came on such short notice. I’d feel awful to send ye back so quickly after ye came all this way to help us,” said Mrs. McMurray sweetly. Sweetly- this woman doesn’t have a crumb of sugar in her personality! “Won’t you stay for a cup of tea Reverend?” 

  “Uh…yes, thank you Ma’am, I’d be delighted,” Abelard said after a moments hesitation. He removed his hat. Something very close to a smile, but not quite, playing on his lips. 

Before Mrs. McMurray could order Freckle to go put the kettle on, you jumped up, seized your friend’s sleeve, and started making a beeline for the door. 

  “Okay you guys have fun! Happy Halloween! We’ll be back later BYE!” You spoke at them as you dragged Freckle behind you out the door.

Once you were both safely at the dirt road, you could calm down. 

  “Ugh, my Mum and Reverend Abelard,” Freckle shuddered. “Now that’s scary!” 

Chapter Text

Horatio didn’t live too far from the Little Daisy Cafe. Since his place was also closer to the Halloween Carnival the two of you would be going to, you’d agreed to meet him there. You were excited. Not only because you were looking forward to a fun night of frights and delights with the sweetest, nicest, most thoughtful guy in the world, but this would also be your first time seeing where he lives. Horatio had been uncharacteristically cagey about letting you come over in the past. Tonight, you’d finally get to see the place, if only for five minutes. 

It was a modest brick apartment building, about four stories high, and not much different from yours. Horatio’s dwelling was somewhere on the fourth floor. After climbing several stair cases, you promptly found the room number and knocked on the door. You knew you had the right place when Horatio’s muffled voice called out from the other side.

  “Just a minute.” 

You heard hurried footsteps inside, and the noises of objects being shifted around. Your ears flicked up when you heard Horatio speaking in hushed tones. They stood straight up with interest when it sounded like another person answered him back. Horatio hadn’t mentioned any roommates. What was this about?  

A latch was undone, something clicked, the door swung open wide for you. Horatio, bright and enthusiastic, welcomed you with open arms into his home.

“Hi (Y/N)! I hope I didn’t keep you, I had a little last minute tidying up to do.”

You stepped inside to give him a hug and an equally warm greeting. When you pulled away, you realized it was only the two of you in the apartment.

It was a modest and cozy little dwelling. Neat too, not a lamp or picture frame out of place. The only dirt was in the lovingly tended flower pots on the windowsill, bearing little bushels of bright green at a time when the rest of the plant world was loosing its golden and brown leaves in preparation for winter hibernation. They gave the room a pleasant earthy fragrance. You didn’t understand what Horatio had been so hesitant about, his home was a good deal nicer compared to the organized chaos of your apartment. 

“Your Sherlock Holmes costume looks amazing!” Horatio gushed. “Silver looks so good on you!” 

  “Aw, thanks,” you smiled bashfully, folding your hands behind your back as you felt warmth in your cheeks. “Nice to know pricking my fingers a hundred times with the sewing needle was worth it.”  

  “Very much so. I got my costume ready. Make yourself comfortable while I go put it on. I’ll be back soon.”

Horatio disappeared behind a door you assumed lead to his bedroom and you sat down in one of the chairs. You took the opportunity to let your eyes really travel around the room. Horatio truly was an excellent housekeeper.

The quiet tranquility of the room was breached with a click. It sounded like a doorknob. You were facing Horatio’s room though, and that door hadn’t budged. Neither had the front door. The ominous creak of hinges whined warningly behind you, sending a shudder up your spine. You turned around in your chair.

You saw what looked like a closet, given how small the room behind you appeared to be. Inside, hoarding the space like an elephant crammed into a camping tent, was a large plant. A flower bulb roughly the size of an ice box sprouted out on a thick stem from a terracotta pot that seemed too small to support a proportionally sized root system. Leaves and vines likewise grew from the plant. They sat in a pile around the base of the pot. It was the biggest, most remarkable plant you’d ever seen. 

You rounded the chair to get a better look at it. Surely Horatio wouldn’t mind. If he grew this, he must be so proud of himself…but then, why hide it in the closet?

  “Ta-daaaa!”

Horatio emerged from his bedroom with a happy bounce and a flourish of his long white coat. He was meant to be Dr. John Watson, Holmes’ trusted companion and a former war doctor. Taking one look at Horatio, you could see he’d never read a Sherlock Holmes novel in his life! Instead of reflecting a stalwart Victorian British gentleman, Horatio had leaned more into the doctor portion of the character. He wore a long white lab coat, a canary yellow tie, oversized goggles, and a stethoscope around his neck. It wasn’t the image Doyle’s works invoked, but Horatio looked so pleased with himself and so dang adorable, you couldn’t help cooing over it. 

Before you could complement him on it though, his eagerness suddenly gave way to fright.

“Oh my goodness!” He bounded over to you across the living room. He slammed the closet door shut, then braced his back against it, tail puffed. “(Y/N)! I don’t mean to sound rude, but what were doing looking in the closet?”

  “Nothing,” you were baffled by this whole turn of events. “The door opened on its own while I was sitting here and I saw the plant inside.” 

  “…Nothing else happened?”

  “No.”

Horatio released a breath, shoulders slumping. He gently took you by the arm and guided you away from the closet, back to the middle of the living room. This abrupt change in his demeanor was beginning to worry you. Something was clearly bothering him, and he was putting on a brave face for you. 

  “That plant is um…special. I rescued it from a flower shop that had gone out of business and was left deserted. The poor little thing was left in the window to wilt. It was a lot smaller when I brought it home.”

  “So, you did that,” you pointed at the closet door. Horatio’s ears drooped and he nodded solemnly. “You don’t seem very happy about it.”

  “Oh I am! I am! It’s just, um, a lot of upkeep. You know? But let’s not think about it,” he took your arm again and, more insistently, started pulling you to the front door. “It’s Halloween! We’ve got lots to do-“ 

The closet door swung open again, with enough force that there was no way it could be blamed on a draft. The plant had moved. The bulb wasn't pointing upwards anymore, instead the tip was jutting out towards the both of you. The leaves parted on their own.

  “Hiii (Y/N),” it spoke. In a slimy singsong voice that made every solitary strand of fur on your body stand at attention. 

For a few seconds, all you could do was stare in complete utter shock. You felt the scream building in your throat as your lungs gathered air. It was thwarted by Horatio clapping a hand over your mouth. 

  “Sorry! Sorry!” He said frantically at your muffled complaints. “Please don’t panic! Seymour’s a nice talking plant!”

You pushed his hand away, aghast. 

  “Seymour?!”

  “That’s what I named him. He’s a good plant. He just, gets a little, uh, finicky, when I don’t feed him.” 

  “Dare I ask, what does he ea- EEK!” 

You jumped about a mile when you felt something curl around the tip of your tail and tug. It was a vine. An animated vine that slithered like a snake as it retracted back to the main body of the plant. Seymour used a second vine to wave at you, the bulb’s puckered lips smiling wide. 

  “Seymour! That’s no way to treat guests,” Horatio admonished. The thing only chuckled. 

  “Aww, I’m just being friendly,” it cooed. Or some gross equivalent thereof. Something red flicked across its lips. “Cats like being petted, don’t they?”

That was it. That was the last straw. Being touched without your permission combined with the sheer volume of sleaze crammed into those sentences worked your last nerve. Whatever little goodwill you might’ve had, whatever chance you might’ve been willing to give for Horatio’s sake, shriveled up and died on the spot. You resolutely placed your hands on Horatio’s shoulders to gain his undivided attention. 

  “We need to talk.” You cast a side eye to the plant, “In private.” 

Horatio let you into his bedroom. He locked the door behind him. You paced up and down a few times, too worked up to form sentences. Horatio started.

  “(Y/N), I understand you’re upset-“ 

  “No kidding,” you spat. 

  “But Seymour doesn’t have anywhere else to go. I’ve been looking after him for months. Sure he’s troublesome at times, his attitude needs some adjusting, and feeding him is…well, I manage. The point is, he’s not a plant for everyone.”

  “He’s not a plant for anyone Horatio. That thing’s bad news!”

  “I’m helping him! He can grow to be a better person- uh, plant- he just needs a little guidance! And some good old fashioned TLC!” 

Horatio’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. If anything he seemed exhausted. The eternal optimism and good cheer that naturally permeated his character felt forced. You finally noticed all the bandaids on his hands. 

  “Horatio,” you gingerly took one of his hands in yours, paw pads easily brushing against the material of the bandaids that dotted his fingers. He refused to meet your gaze,“What are these?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Did it bite you?!” 

  “No! No. I, um, did it myself.” 

Your heart plummeted. There were way too many bandages to be accidental. You recalled thinking it a bit odd when he started wearing gloves to work, but didn’t question it. Maybe you should have. You held his hand a little tighter. Not too much, as to not agitate the wounds. 

  “Horatio…”

  “He was dying (Y/N)!” He burst out. “I tried everything! I gave him sunlight, water, mulch, I even sung classical opera to him, but he kept wilting. Then I accidentally cut my finger in the kitchen one day, and he reacted! I gave him a few drops of blood. He just popped right back to life. He even started growing!” 

He was trying to sound happy. Maybe he used to be. Now though, there was no sparkle in his green eyes, they’d grown dull. You stepped a bit more into the other cat’s personal space, speaking softly.

  “Horatio, I love that you are such a kind and thoughtful person. Very few people go as far out of their way as you do to help others. Let alone a little plant. But you need to understand that Seymour is taking advantage of you. Am I right to assume that, now that he’s gotten bigger, a few drops isn’t satisfying him anymore?” 

He closed his eyes. His head moved in a tired, sad nod. 

“Then you can’t go on like this Dear Heart. Seymour is literally sucking you dry.” 

  “I know, but, all he eats is blood. He needs it to live. If it doesn’t come from me, where will he get it from?” His eyes pleaded with you. You held strong, resisting the temptation to melt…mostly.

  “Maybe the butcher shop could give you a bucket of blood if you asked?” 

  “I’ve tried giving him raw steak before,” his ears drooped more. “He said it wasn’t fresh enough.”

Oh, so it’s picky too? You frowned. The next step from that was feeding it animals. Given Horatio’s attachment to the rat colony at the Lackadasiy, you didn’t see that happening. And you weren’t about to volunteer your fingers either. You had to put your foot down. 

  “Well, it’s that or he starves.” Horatio’s eyes widened in alarm. You cut him off before he could protest. “The alternative is feeding him something alive. We can’t do that. If he keeps insisting on ‘fresh meat’ I’m concerned someone’s going to get hurt, and I don’t want that to be you.” 

He stood there silently, mulling over your words. What you said made sense. It didn’t stop him from feeling horrible at the thought that he might have to stop feeding poor Seymour altogether, leaving him to starve after trying so hard to save him. He stared into your eyes, his own beginning to mist. 

  “Okay,” he sniffed. “You’re right. Maybe some stricter boundaries will do him good.” 

Had it been up to you, you’d have gone for the weed killer already. But this was Horatio’s problem, and he had to deal with it. The both of you left his room to confront the plant. 

The closet door was closed. That put you on alert. You stayed close to Horatio as he went to the door and knocked on it. You noticed the window was open, the curtains fluttering in the night breeze. You couldn’t remember if it had been like that when you came in. 

  “Seymour?” Horatio knocked again, “I’m opening the door. I - We, have something to tell you…Oh my goodness!” 

The closet was empty. All that remained of the talking plant was a pile of soil and cracked pieces of the pot scattered across the floor. Horatio made a dismayed noise as he knelt to examine what was left behind. Before you could say anything, something long and thin snaked tightly around your waist. You looked down to see green. Next thing you knew, you were being dragged to and out the window, screaming the whole way. 

  “HORATIO!” 

Seymour clung to the brick wall outside the window like a horrific giant spider, cackling madly. You could see huge pointy teeth jutting from its maw. Your feet dangled above a huge open drop to the cold ground below as the vine held you in its grasp. You wanted this thing to let go of you, badly, but you didn’t want to fall either. Your claws dug into the vine as you thrashed on instinct. 

  “(Y/N)!” Horatio stuck his head out the window. He gasped, “Seymour?! What are you doing? Stop that! You’ll hurt (Y/N)!” 

  “Sorry fat cat. I don’t need you anymore,” it pointed an accusatory vine. “Now that I’m mobile, I’m gonna eat whateeeever I want! Starting with Sweetness here.”  

Your ears pinned back and you swallowed hard as it grinned at you, all teeth. Horatio was scandalized. 

  “(Y/N) was right! You were just using me!”

  “No shit Sherlock.”

  “Language!”

You got the distinct impression of the plant rolling its eyes if it had any. 

“Whatever Dad. Chow,” it did a little wave at Horatio, then proceeded to creep up to the roof, taking you with it. 

  “Let go of me you- you- walking salad bar,” you shouted at it. You couldn’t think of anything else. How does one insult a plant? 

Seymour’s vines pulled itself over the ledge of the roof, on to more solid ground. You were glad you didn’t have to worry about falling four stories anymore. Your relief was short lived. Its mouth opened wide, teeth gleaming in the moonlight, a long red leaf that must be its tongue drooped out expectantly as the vine moved you towards it. You started screaming again and kicked wildly, landing a few blows on its lips. You must’ve hit a sensitive spot because it flinched away. It snarled.

  “Now, now, be a good little kitty and get in my mouth.” 

  “HELL NO,” you snarled right back, baring your own teeth, and ripping into the vine around your waist with your claws as much as you could. No way were you gonna let this thing eat you without a fight!

It’s grip on you tightened, to the point you started to worry about breaking a rib. Another vine coiled around your legs, stopping you from kicking. The gaping maw approached once more. You didn’t see any way out of this. Pieces of your life were beginning to flash through your mind. 

A door suddenly slammed open.

  “Seymour!”

Never had you heard Horatio yell, nor did you think you’d ever seen him angry before. Even Seymour seemed surprised to see its former caretaker at the door to the stairs, huffing and puffing from running the whole way, but standing determined nevertheless. A big jug clutched in one of his hands marked “Weed Killer”. He caught his breath and drew himself up.

“You are a bad seed!” With that, he charged into battle, yelling the whole way. 

  “The heck do you think-“

Seymour never got to finish that sentence. Horatio threw the jug into its mouth. The plant gagged. As its ‘throat’ contracted, the glass broke. The toxic liquid contents spilled out into its leafy system. Seymour clutched at its stem with vines, the same way a cat would hold their neck if they were choking. The vines around you loosened enough that you could squirm free. Horatio was right there to catch you in his arms. He ended up toppling over due to the weight seconds later, but you appreciated the heroic gesture. 

The plant staggered across the roof, coughing, spluttering, struggling to expel the poison. In its confusion, it wandered to the edge of the roof. Its vines searched for footing and found none, its off balance made it fall over the edge with a scream. You and Horatio rushed to the ledge. You looked down in time to see Seymour’s bulb bounce off a windowsill and fall right on top of some telephone wires, evidently, hard enough to cause a breakage. Electricity surged through the plant. The leaves started smoking. Then BLAM!

All that was left of the plant that had tried to eat you were charred bits of green glop dripping from the wires, running down the wooden telephone pole, and puddling on the cobblestone street.

Still, it took a few seconds to sink in that it was over. You and Horatio had won. You weren’t eaten alive, and he was finally free of that annoying blood sucking nuisance. Horatio sniffled beside you. He had a few tears in his green eyes as he turned to you. 

  “I’m still going to miss him,” he confessed. “Is that bad?” 

  “No,” you said comfortingly. You held his face, using your thumbs to wipe the stray droplets away. “You took care of Seymour and then you had to kill him. You have every right to be sad. But you should be proud too. What you did was very brave. And I certainly appreciate it.” 

You gave him a little kiss on the cheek. He giggled shyly, you could almost see the blush. 

After all that, a nice stiff drink sounded wonderful. Miss May had given Horatio the night off, so showing up at the Lackadaisy as a patron was going to be new for him, even if he didn’t indulge in alcohol himself. And then, you’d see. If Horatio was still up for it, you wanted to carry on with your original plan to attend the carnival. Halloween only came once a year, and you didn’t want to let a little thing like almost getting eaten get in the way of your spooky good time. 

Chapter Text

She’d asked specifically for you to come meet her at her dormitory at the university before heading out together for Halloween festivities. You guessed she wanted to show you something on campus first, or maybe help her with her costume. 

Arriving on campus, you were pleasantly surprised to see all the decorations up. Paper bats and bedsheet ghosts hanging around, fake spider webs strung all over, a few scarecrows, and, of course, tons of Jack-O-Lanterns with every sort of twisted, contorted, facial expression imaginable carved into gourd flesh. The halls of the dormitory had likewise been decked out with  black, purple, and orange streamers.There were cutouts of devil faces, Jack-O-Lanterns, bats and skulls on the walls. There was even a paper witch on a broom taped to the door of Ivy’s room when you knocked.

The door swung open a few seconds later to reveal Ivy in a Victorian style dress, in her favorite color of course, complete with a little top hat. Since you were Sherlock Holmes, she’d elected to pair with you as the mysterious and clever Irene Adler.

  “(Y/N)! You’re here!” She smiled brightly, radiating cheer. You opened your mouth to say hello, but never got the chance as she tugged you inside in a hurry. “Perfect timing! My friends and I were running a little experiment and we want you try it out next!”

You recognized that tone in her voice. To the untrained observer, she was all sugar and honey, but you detected something sly underneath. That her friends, her dorm mates, were all grinning like foxes at you only deepened your suspicion. 

  “What kind of experiment,” you asked. One girl was holding the door to the bathroom open, eager and expectant. 

  “You ever hear of Bloody Mary,” Ivy questioned as though she had no idea what that was herself. 

  “Oh that? That’s an old gag,” you said. 

  “Aces! I don’t have to explain it then,” she said. She practically pushed you into the bathroom. “Just light the candle, turn off the light, and say her name in the mirror three times. If you’re not dead, tell us what happened!” 

With that, the door closed. All connection to the outside world seemed to be severed, leaving you isolated in that tiny room of white walls and tile. The smell of perfumes and make up was pungent in the air, it intertwined with the scent of wax. A solitary thin orange candle sat on the edge of the sink. Dribbles of hot wax gone cold left small bumps along its trunk. Some of it had made it to the sink, hardening against the cool porcelain while affixing the candle to it at the same time. A wispy trail of smoke rose from the blackened wick. Clearly the ladies had already been playing this game before you showed up. 

Well, it was Halloween. Even if you didn’t believe in ghosts yourself you could still humor Ivy and her friends. You picked up the matchbook they’d left for you, lit the candle, then flicked off the light switch. 

It was creepier with only the candle to see by. Your eyes needing a minute to adjust to the darkness. You looked into the mirror. Lit below by the soft light, even your own reflection looked a bit gruesome. You took a breath. 

  “Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.” 

…Nothing. 

Not that you were expecting anything to happen anyways. You momentarily contemplated just flat out lying and saying you did see the ghastly haunting face of the old ghost with no eyes, that perpetually cried tears of fresh blood, and who either clawed your eyeballs out for disturbing her or told you who you were going to marry depending on which version of the story one chose to go with. It wasn’t honest, but it’d be more exciting. And Ivy was all about exciting. 

On the other hand, she might call you out for fibbing. She could see through your baloney as well as you could see through hers. 

In the silence of the bathroom, you heard the soft rustle of the shower curtain behind you. You thought you imagined it at first. Then it came again. Your stomach dropped as you saw a figure in white reflected in the mirror. The stories had mentioned something about not turning around in these circumstances. You ignored that and  spun to face the thing standing in the bathtub anyways. Its face was obscured by raggedy black hair. It groaned as it reached long gnarled fingers at you. 

You didn’t register screaming. You fumbled with the doorknob for a second, then, in your haste to escape, tripped over your own feet out the door into the light and noise of the dorm. You landed with an “oof” on the carpet. Laughter rang out around you. 

  “Gotcha!” Ivy and the other girls chorused as they laughed hysterically. 

Your panic turned to confusion, then to understanding. Ivy helped you up, giggling the whole time. 

  “Silly, that’s just Marylin,” she said. 

Marylin, one of Ivy’s dorm mates, stood in the bathtub dressed in a baggy white dress smeared with red paint for blood stains. She was holding a messy wig, and looking extremely pleased with herself. 

  “Ah, ha, ha, yeah, you guys got me,” you laughed it off. 

Not that you enjoyed being on the receiving end of pranks, but you wanted to be a good sport. Although, given the chance, you’d definitely would’ve done this to Clark at JAZCAT, so maybe this was just karma. 

You and Ivy left campus shortly after to go have your own Halloween fun together. First stop of course was the Lackadaisy. To your delight, most people had opted to dress up as well for the occasion. The band, however, was dispirited and as reluctant to play anything as ever. Ivy had to really pester them just to get one song that the two of you could dance to. Some ‘gentle encouragement' from Mitzi helped. And after knocking back a few drinks it wasn’t long until you needed to use the restroom for real.

The incident at the dorm was still fresh in your mind. You shoved it down. The Lackadaisy bathroom was bigger and much different in style to the little room you’d been pushed into. Furthermore, there was no tub and shower curtain for a coed to hide behind. You’d just gotten through washing your hands when you looked up to the mirror in front of you.

You weren’t alone. The reflection of an old woman with black eyes stared at you.

You jumped, startled, and spun around. Nobody there. You were by yourself in the mirror too when you checked. 

Rocky must’ve brought back some funny liquor, you reasoned. It had combined with what happened at the dorm, and now you’re seeing things. You decided you’d had enough alcohol for the night. You and Ivy said your goodbyes to the Lackadaisy crew, then left for a more livelier party.

The night went pretty smoothly after that. You played games, chowed down on sweets, and Ivy insisted on getting a tarot card reading. For both of you. The lady psychic (so-called) welcomed you both into her tent graciously. Ivy went first. According to her cards, there was love and wealth in her future. Her golden eyes gave you a knowing look as she smirked. You suddenly found your hands very interesting, willing your expression to remain neutral as warmth blossomed across your muzzle. However, the psychic continued, she must be careful for there is also great danger ahead. 

Given what Ivy liked to do in her free time, and what you’d dragged her into, that sounded surprisingly accurate. Vague, but accurate. 

The psychic read you fortune next. She went very quiet. 

  “Difficult,” she said at last. “Your future seems cloudy. All I see is danger, though I cannot tell how soon it will come for you…she’s following you.” 

You felt a chill. She was frustratingly oblique after that, and seemed in a hurry to get you out of her tent. 

  “That was strange,” Ivy commented as the two of you walked along the street. “What did she mean ‘She’s following you’?”

  “No idea,” you shrugged. It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with that dumb Bloody Mary game and the weird old lady you saw in the mirror…right? Ivy harrumphed. 

  “Can you hold this for a second please, I wanna fix my hair,” she held out a pocket mirror to you. You obliged. Ivy chatted away as she tended to herself.

Before handing the mirror back when she was finished, you turned it to see yourself for a second. The old woman from earlier was behind you again. She didn’t have black eyes, they were completely gone. You froze to the spot, body going rigid. 

  “Ivy?”

  “Hm?”

  “Is there someone behind me?” 

  “No?” She seemed confused by the question. You snapped the mirror shut and handed it back.

  “We need to get back to your dorm. Right away.”

  “What? Why?” 

  “Just- there’s something I need to do.”

On the way back to the university, you debated telling Ivy exactly what you thought was going on. It sounded so dumb though. That you were being haunted by a ghost famous for being nothing more than a party game at teenagers’ sleepovers. What if she didn’t believe you? You barely believed you. Once you returned to her dorm, no one else was there. 

“Okay, so this going to sound…weird,” you told her. Ivy was eyeing you slightly suspiciously. “I need to lock myself in the bathroom for a bit, and I need you to stay out here. If you hear any screaming, don’t come in.” 

The overwhelming majority of Bloody Mary stories all ended in death or dismemberment. You’d be damned if Ivy was going to share that fate with you if that’s where this was all headed. Course, that was assuming Ivy was willing to comply with your plan. Going by the incredulous look she was giving you, she was not. 

  “What?”

  “Like I said, weird, but it’s for the best.”

  “Why though?”

  “Uhhh,” you didn’t really have a good explanation. Not even the truth felt sufficient. 

Ivy stepped into your personal space, glaring daggers at you, “(Y/N), what is going on with you? You’ve been acting kind of strange since when left the Lackadaisy.” 

She stared at you. You stared right back, sweating under the pressure until you couldn’t take it anymore.  

  “I’m being haunted by Bloody Mary,” you blurted out.

Ivy did a double take. That was not what she’d been expecting to hear, “What?” 

  “I know what that sounds like,” you said, ears folding back, embarrassment crawling into your stomach. “But I’ve been seeing this creepy old lady with no eyes in every mirror I’ve looked in since we left here, and I think this is how I get her to stop. One way or another.” 

It felt ridiculous laying all that out. You braced yourself internally for Ivy to start laughing again, tell you you’re just paranoid after the prank from earlier with Marylin. 

“It’s fine if you don’t believe me-“ 

  “Don’t believe you!” Ivy’s mouth dropped open in shock, “(Y/N), you’re one of the most straightforward and honest people I know. If you told me martians had landed in your backyard and were off having a tea party on a riverboat on the Mississippi, I’d believe you. You don’t lie about stuff like that.” 

You didn’t know what to say. The whole way back to campus, you’d been rehearsing in your mind the least nutty way to phrase this story because you’d been so worried about Ivy getting upset at you. A weight you hadn’t realized you’d been carrying lifted. You smiled a little.

  “Thanks Ivy.”

She made that cute self assured smile with her nose in the air she liked to do whenever she got her way or won an argument. 

  “Of course. Now let’s go get rid of that mean old ghost!” 

She was once again pushing you to the bathroom. Talk about Deja vu. You stammered, trying to explain that Mary probably only wanted you and that it would be safer if you confronted her alone. 

“Nonsense!” Ivy wouldn’t hear of it. “As your best friend and possible future wife-“

  “When did that get become a thing?!” 

  “The fortune teller, remember? Anyway, I’m not letting you do this alone. Besides, the girls and I all did the ritual too. Who’s to say we’re not next after you?” 

Fair point. You hadn’t considered that. Ivy ushered the both of you into the little white bathroom and shut the door. That feeling of being cut off from everything returned with avengeance. You were happy to have Ivy with you. The little orange candle was lit. The wax had melted significantly, dribbling off the sink to the floor. There didn’t seem to be much wick left. 

You glanced at Ivy one more time, readying yourself for what you were about to face. You stepped in front of the mirror.

It was just you. Nothing strange.

  “Do you see her?” Ivy stepped beside you, her reflection joining yours.

  “No,” you said, brow furrowing with puzzlement. It seemed too good to be true the ghost had elected to leave you alone on its own. 

The lights suddenly flickered and died. You and Ivy hugged each other in the dark, on high alert for anything odd. The only light was the pitiful little candle flame on the sink. Still, nothing abnormal in the mirror. 

  “Should we call her?” Ivy at last broke the silence. 

  “She’s already invited,” you shrugged. “She wasn’t shy with me earlier either.” 

  “Oh! Maybe it’s because I’m here.”

  “I don’t think that’s-“ 

  “Come on, let’s say it together! On three.” 

You sighed, but went along with it anyway. Together you chanted: 

   “Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.”

Instinctively, you listened for the shower curtain to move. No rustling of cloth, or scrape of metal rings was heard. There was no noise at all, except for you and Ivy breathing. 

You felt her before you saw her. 

An ice cold hand, long and boney, settled on your shoulder. Ivy gripped you tighter. In the mirror you saw the other hand on her shoulder, twisted and gnarled with age. Above you both, floating like an ominous balloon, a pale face appeared. It was so angular you couldn’t tell if she had really short white fur, or if that was bone. Her ears were shredded and barely there. Her white hair was stringy and long. She had no eyes. From the empty sockets leaked never ending streams of red. 

You’d never been more frightened in your life. Your breath caught in your throat. Ivy’s eyes had grown huge. You could feel her trembling next to you. At last you found your voice.

  “Why-“ it came out airy and whispery. You breathed and began again. “Why have you been following me?” 

The hand on your shoulder popped and cracked as it lifted, shifting to point at the candle. The head’s jaw opened at an odd angle. The voice was raspy. 

  “You did not dismiss me,” she said. 

You and Ivy both gaped at the candle in stunned silence. Nobody had bothered to blow it out before you left? You’d been in a hurry to get out of there and had forgotten about it, but you’d have thought someone else would’ve done it for you. Nobody had said anything about the candle being some kind of signal to the beginning and ending of the ritual either. You thought it was just for atmosphere. 

“Oh,” you said. It felt like too commonplace an expression to be giving to a supernatural presence. “Sorry about that. I guess I’ll just…”

You leaned forward to blow the flame out. The hand came up to stop you. You didn’t dare do anything to come in contact with it again. 

  “Before that,” she said slowly, as though speech was difficult for her, “I have something to tell the two of you.” 

You and Ivy looked at each other, in no real position to refuse. 

“I have seen what the future holds for the both of you. Should you choose to continue to follow the ripples of the siren, to try to take the old king’s treasure, you both will fall into a den of death. A place where corpses are cut up, remade, and sat at the banquet of the cursed Princess of the Sea.”

Only about half of that made any sense to you. You weren't bold enough to ask for clarification though. That this random ghost even knew about yours and Ivy’s little, let’s call it a side project, was astonishing. 

  “Thanks for the warning,” you said, pleased your voice didn’t tremble. You hoped that was it. 

  “Why tell us this?” Ivy piped up. 

Bloody Mary’s neck made a sickening cracking noise as her skull tilted on the axis of what was left of her spine. She seemed to be looking down, more directly at Ivy. You heard her inhale sharply. 

  “Because this fate is much worse than what I could do to the two of you,” what passed for lips peeled back, revealing jagged, crooked, teeth, as she grinned. Tacitly implying the more gruesome stories about her to be true. You gulped. “And…I will always show mercy where true love is found.” 

The head and the hands melted back into the darkness of the room. She seemed to be granting you an opportunity to exit and you gladly took it. Quickly, you blew out the candle. The room was plunged into complete darkness. 

The light switch was where it always was, neither you nor Ivy had the guts to move from your spot yet was the issue. A few seconds later, you both flinched as the electric lights suddenly came back to life. They flooded the room with blessed light. You didn’t even mind the brightness stinging your eyes before you could readjust to it. 

As nice as the lights were, you both didn’t want to be in that bathroom any longer. Ivy’s cozy dorm was there to greet you on the other side, empty but inviting. You sat on her bed with her, processing what had just happened.

  “I think it’s safe to say, we’ve got one whopper of a Halloween story,” you said, finally breaking the silence. “Too bad nobody will believe us.”

  “They’ll listen anyways. It’s that good,” Ivy said confidently. 

  “What did she mean by ‘mercy where true love is found’?” 

  “As if you didn't already know,” Ivy gave you a smug look, leaning more into your personal space. You felt self conscious and awkward.

  “Uh…” 

  “I wanna have our honeymoon in Hawaii.” 

  “Oh lord.”

Chapter Text

The pale moon was high and full, hung in a dark jeweled sky over the city of St. Louis. It did little to illuminate your path through the city compared to the soft yellow glow of the street lamps, but it was very pretty to look up at when you caught sight of it in between the buildings. 

  “The moon is lovely tonight,” you commented to your friend. 

  “Yup,” Joey said, his green eyes never leaving the cracked sidewalk the two of you were walking down. 

  “The weather is just perfect for the Halloween Carnival. No clouds, it’s chilly but not enough to be cold, the breeze is light…” you trailed off, waiting for Joey to supplement your sentence.

  “Yup.” 

You sighed, pointed ears folding back slightly in disappointment. This despondent attitude wasn’t like Joey at all. Usually he’d be talking your ear off. The “unpleasant incident” he went through seemed to have knocked all the moxie and cheer right out of him.

Back in September,  Joey had lost his job as a bartender in the worst way possible. Not because he’d done anything wrong. In fact, the cause of the tragedy is still shrouded in mystery. You only knew what Joey had told you that night you found him at your doorstep, sobbing uncontrollably and hysterical. 

It was the Marigold gang (Joey had pronounced it “Mary- Gold” and you’d had to correct him). A scary man in glasses, a scarier woman, and a big bruiser fella showed up one night supposedly to deliver some much needed liquor to the tiny speakeasy Joey worked at, hidden away in a pool hall. Instead, they shot and killed the other rumrunners, kidnapped his boss, and the woman played Russian Roulette with Joey’s life. Obviously, he’d lived and hadn’t been shot, only robbed and warned of consequences should he or anyone else seek retaliation. 

It made your blood boil. There’d been no reason for it. Absolutely none. Joey’s boss was literally paying the Marigold to stay in business by purchasing liquor from them. He wasn’t competition, he was a customer. They didn’t have to go in and kill anyone! It made no goddamned sense!  

Stop. 

Breathe.

You inhaled the chilled autumn air, the faint scent of murky Mississippi water on the wind. The only sound was the steady soft steps of your shoes as you walked and the dull din of the city. 

That was the past. This is the now. It just got you riled up seeing how mopey Joey had become. It didn’t help that he was having trouble finding new employment too. Bar tending jobs were few and far between, and with Prohibition still on it wasn’t a job he could exactly put on a resume. You’d tried to get him something, anything, at JAZCAT, but your boss had turned it down. It chaffed you how little there was you could realistically do to help Joey. Even small efforts to help pull him out of his funk, an extra hug, surprising him with lunch, trying to get him out of his head, seemed to have no effect on him. 

You really hoped this date at the Halloween Carnival would change that. You’d managed to coax him into wearing a Doctor Watson costume to match your silvery Sherlock Holmes getup. That was probably a good sign, right? You’d never seen Joey in a top hat before. You thought he’d looked very distinguished in the Victorian suit. He’d almost smiled at that. 

Wanting to get to the carnival as quickly as possible, without shelling out for a cab ride, you’d chosen to take a shortcut through a more suburban area. The street was quiet, eerily so, even for Halloween. Most of the quaint little two story homes were dark, leaving only a few spots of light that invited Trick-or-Treaters to approach. A few candlelit Jack-O-Lanterns here and there, perched on fences and porches, helped ease your nerves. Maybe most of the people on this street had gone to the carnival too. That would explain the lack of movement. 

One house in particular caught your attention as you passed. It was bigger than the other houses on the block, greedily occupying more land than the rest. It was two stories and maybe an attic high. There might be a basement too, a lot of houses had them, but you couldn’t tell from the sidewalk alongside the overgrown front lawn. It looked older and in disrepair. Cracks all over the walls, paint peeling from everywhere, the windows were dirty, and by all accounts the place appeared abandoned. If not for one thing.

One porch light was left on, illuminating a bowl generously overflowing with candies. It was easily the cleanest, shiniest, and newest looking object on the property. The candy wrappers glistened like jewels of a forbidden treasure.

Ordinarily, you’d leave it be. However, you recognized the wrapper design on one of the candies. It was Joey’s favorite. You gently tugged his arm to catch his attention.

  “Hey, how ‘bout some free candy before we get there?” you grinned, pointing at the bowl. 

Joey squinted at it for a second, “Isn’t that for the kids?” 

  “Oh we’re not gonna take the whole thing, just one for each of us,” rather than letting  Joey debate with himself for how ever long, you allowed yourself to step onto the uneven and cracked walkway. “C’mon, who's gonna know?” 

You were about halfway up the path, a hesitant Joey only a few steps behind you, when you started hearing frantic yelling. You searched the dark corners of the property with your eyes for a few seconds before realizing it was coming from behind you. Two little boys and a girl, wearing matching pirate costumes, were running towards the two of you, wildly waving their arms and yelling to come back to the road. 

Geez, you’d known kids were possessive when it came to candy, but this was just ridiculous. 

  “Okay, calm down!”you called to them. You gestured to the candy bowl, “There’s plenty for everyone!” 

  “No! No! It’s a trap-” 

  “The candy is a lieeee-” 

  “The house is gonna-“

  “Come back to the road-“ 

  “-devour your bones-“ 

You didn’t understand what they were saying. They kept shouting over each other, hopping up and down excitedly. They reached the sidewalk and refused to step further, their feet stamping the ground like eager racehorses stuck behind the starting gate. 

Joey’s eyes flicked between you and the kids nervously. 

  “Uh, (Y/N), maybe we should just leave the sweets and go,” he said bashfully. As if he’d been caught doing something wrong. 

This more than anything only made you more determined to get that piece of candy. 

   “I’m not letting some whiny kids ruin our night,” you insisted.

  “(Y/N),” he started, then suddenly stopped. He tensed up. Alarm creeping across his face.

The kids outright screamed, sounding genuinely panicked. 

  “What? What is it?” you asked, baffled. 

There was an enormous cracking noise behind you, like a thousand wooden sticks all being crunched and broken at the same time. Something growling like a giant animal. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. 

Slowly, with a knot of dread in the pit of your stomach, but too curious not to, you turned around.

The horrible house resembled a giant, snarling head. Its windows were glaring red eyes, the porch twisted and broken into a cruel maw with jagged teeth. Its door opened, and an unearthly angry roar broke through the air. 

People in China probably heard you scream. 

You and Joey started booking it back down the walkway, not daring to look behind. Something long, soft, and flat wrapped around your waist, stopping you dead in your tracks, and yanking you backwards. You shrieked. 

  “JOEY!” 

He skidded to halt, turning to see you being dragged toward the door by…a carpet…tongue? He leapt for you and grabbed your hands. He pulled as hard as he could, digging his heels into the ground, but it barely slowed the thing down. 

You looked over your shoulder, caught a glimpse of the bleak doorway open and waiting for you. 

Joey’s arms were around your torso the next second. You didn’t question it, just clung to him all the more. A tearing noise sounded behind you, but you were still being carried away. 

You were pulled, screaming your head off, into the house. 

The door swung shut with an air of finality, the last thing you saw of the outside  world were those three kids still out on the sidewalk. Perhaps you should’ve paid closer attention to them after all. You and Joey were in an old decrepit hallway, an eerie green light illuminated the peeling wallpaper decorating the hall, and a rickety old staircase to the side. 

You glanced back again, searching for the source of the odd light, to see what you could only describe as a pit, a jagged opening in the wood floorboards, that the tongue-rug was steadily drawing you both into. 

Together, you both pulled against it. You actually felt it give. The sound of rending fabric encouraging you, lending you more strength. 

You came free with a snap. Both you and Joey went tumbling. The house around you whined, as if pained. You tore the accursed red cloth off you. Joey quickly urged you to your feet. 

  “This way,” he took your hand and the two of you practically flung yourselves down another flight of stairs. 

The house had a basement after all. It was filled wall to wall with piles of random things. Children’s toys, car parts, tools, furniture, etc. As if multiple yard sales had thrown up their wares. 

A spotlight, suspiciously shaped like the silhouette of a window, shined down from somewhere above, darting around the room. The house was searching for you. 

You both dove under a pile of brick-a-brack and waited. After what felt like ages, the light finally went away. After another eternity, you and Joey felt it was safe enough to whisper. 

  “This is insane!” you hissed, barely tamping down on your panic. “A house can’t be alive, that’s impossible!”

  “And yet, here we are,” Joey shrugged. There was something metal in his hand. 

  “Where did you get a knife?” 

  “I brought it with me,” he said quietly, examining the small pocket knife. “I used it to cut its tongue that had you. I’ve been carrying it around ever since the incident. It makes me feel a little better to have a weapon on me. Just in case you know?” 

You couldn’t argue that it had come in handy tonight. Even if it did grind your gears knowing this was the result of those Marigold bastards scaring the wits out of him. 

He turned green eyes up to the ceiling, “I think it’s gonna take more than my little blade to get us out of here though.” 

No kidding. This was a hell of a conundrum indeed! Your mind spun, trying to make sense of your situation, to rationalize how a house, a man-made construction of wood and brick, could behave and move like a living animal. 

Joey was brave. He got up and started searching for anything that might be useful, careful not to make too much noise. 

Although what could possibly be down here that could stand up to a sentient house? Even if you both made it back upstairs and to the door it would surely be locked. With the very walls and floor attacking, there wouldn’t be time to pick the lock or break the door down before you were most likely killed.

You watched Joey pick through the piles for a minute before your eyes began to roam around inquisitively, hoping you’d see something that would give you an answer to how to escape this demented version of a haunted house. You spotted a familiar shaped object, one that was large and half buried under a pile of junk, standing against a wall. 

  “Huh,” you said. How had that gotten there? 

  “What is it?” Joey asked, picking up on your curious tone. 

  “There’s a liquor cabinet over there,” you pointed. “Do you suppose there’s anything in it?” 

  “Even if there is, now’s really not a good time for that.” 

A lightbulb clicked on in your head. 

  “What if we got the house drunk?” That was the most patently absurd sentence you’d ever said, and you write fantastic murder mysteries in your free time. You rolled with it anyways. “We know it consumes, because it tried to eat us.” 

  “Oh, yeah! I bet that pit it tried to drag us into was its stomach.” 

  “So, if we dump enough booze into that pit, it could get too drunk to stop us from escaping!” 

Now with a plan, the two of you eagerly dug out the liquor cabinet enough to open the doors. Good news: it had lots of bottles inside! Bad news: not all of them were alcohol. Or even filled. A few of them were marked as seltzer water, soda, bleach, and an assortment of other things you could barely pronounce. There was a very unpleasant aroma coming from a jug of spoiled, chunky milk. 

  “Ugh,” you held your nose as your lip curled in disgust at the expired dairy. “That’s gross.” 

  “This might be a problem,” Joey picked up a bottle, furrowing his brow. 

  “The smell? It’s disgusting, but I think we can power through it to get out of here.” 

  “No, I don’t think this is enough booze. The bigger someone is, the more they have to drink to get drunk. And we’re talking about a house here, assuming size is a factor.” 

Your spirits dimmed. Quickly, you tried to think of a work around. Something to make this work.

  “Well, you’re a bartender-“ 

  “Ex-bartender,” he reminded you, almost coldly.

  “Point is, you know alcohol, is there anything in here you can add to it that could make it more…potent? Or get the house sick maybe?”

  “Sick?” Joey stood there a moment. You could see the wheels turning inside his head. He gasped all of a sudden, a huge smile crept across his face as he held your arms excitedly, “(Y/N), you’re a genius!” 

Joey was adorable when he smiled, and he hadn’t done so in weeks. That nice fluttery feeling inside distracted you from responding right away.

  “Huh? Uh, yeah. Thanks….Wait, why am I a genius?” 

He didn’t give you an answer. He was already wrapped up in his task, searching for something in the room, “I need a bucket, or a wash tub. Something big I can mix liquids in.” 

  “Gotcha.” 

There were plenty of bowls, cups, and vases to be found, but those simply wouldn’t do. Too small. Joey found a pail, only to realize there was a hole on the bottom. You were digging through a random pile when you spotted a black piece of cast iron sticking out of the junk. You fished it out. 

It was a cauldron. An honest to goodness cauldron, the sort you would picture a witch using to create a bubbling magic potion. What were the odds? 

“Hey, Joey,” you called to him as loudly as you dared. He came right to you, eyes lighting with delight when he saw the cauldron. 

  “Yup, that’ll do!” 

It was big enough to drown a piglet in, and heavy. You could barely carry it by yourself. Joey helped you move it close to the liquor cabinet. Afterwords, you sat down and watched the man work. 

A wave of nostalgia swept through you. In a flash, you were back in that small, cramped speakeasy, hidden behind the sliding walls, clouded with cigarette smoke. It housed one pool table, and the small bar Joey worked behind. Crackling Jazz music drifted through the air from the radio against the wall. Lackadaisy was defunct and the Marigold Room didn’t feel very welcoming to you on several levels. Grombach’s Billiards though? The cozier quarters made the place more intimate, and Joey made you feel right at home from that very first night you met him. He was shamelessly flirty, but there was an odd sincerity to it that stopped him from coming off as creepy. He was good at his job too. Real good. He could even do little tricks as he was mixing drinks to spice up the experience for customers. Watching him in between your conversations became the highlight of your night. 

You wished you could do that again. You’d been happy. Joey had been happy. Even his boss had been happy. Gracie Grombach was an imposing figure whom you’d treaded lightly around at first until you got to know him better. When he wasn’t giving Joey instructions to clean this, or make that, he could be somewhat fatherly towards the young man. You too, by extension, when the two of you became a pair. He’d gruffly told you he liked having you around because you could listen to Joey ramble all night and never get tired, it spared his customers from having to hear about whatever topic the bartender happened to be obsessed with that night. More than once, however, you’d caught him giving the both of you soft, smiling glances from across the room. Those moments convinced you he wasn’t quite as scary as he wanted people to think he was. The odds weren’t in the man’s favor, but you hoped, wherever Mr. Grombach was, he was still alive. 

Reality brought you back via the nauseating smell of the rotten milk. Joey had to shake the jug vigorously to get all the icky stuff to plop into the mix. He was using the wooden handle of a broken broom like a spoon to stir everything. You grimaced a bit. Silently grateful this was one concoction of Joey’s you wouldn’t have to taste. 

  “Okay, I think that should do it,” Joey whispered. He tossed the broom aside. “Now we need to get this up the stairs. Ready?” 

You got up, nodding. You firmly gripped one side of the cauldron as Joey took the other.

“On three. One….two…three-eee.”

The both of you heaved as hard as you could. The cauldron remained on the ground. After a few more tries, it became devastatingly obvious that it was too heavy to move with all that added water weight in it. 

Joey groaned, despairingly. He sank to the floor. Back propped against the cast iron, he put his head in his hands. “I didn’t even think about how heavy it was going to be,” he murmured. “I’m such a screw-up.” 

  “No, don’t say that,” you went around the cauldron to squat next to him. “I didn’t catch it either. Maybe we can find a bucket this time and-…Joey?” 

His shoulders quaked. He gritted his teeth as he fought back tears in vain. You scooted closer, more than ready to provide comfort. 

“Hey, it’ll be alright-“

  “You don’t know that,” he accused, sniffling. “That’s exactly what Gracie said before….Ugh, I should’ve told that glasses guy to get lost. I was so useless. And now, I can’t help you either.”

He sighed, “I’m sorry, (Y/N).” 

You stared at him, speechless a few seconds. “You’re sorry? I’m the one who dragged us into this. All over some dumb pieces of candy. If anything, I should be apologizing to you. And as for what happened at the pool hall, I doubt those guys would’ve left if you’d told them to. They might’ve killed you too for being rude.” 

  “I-I just keep thinking if I’d done something differently…maybe, Gracie…”

He trailed off. Tears stained his chestnut and white cheek fur. You gently put your arms around him, gingerly nuzzling him. 

  “I miss him too,” you whispered. 

He hugged you back.

The moment was cut short by a spotlight abruptly blinding the two of you.

The house found you! 

In your half-blinded, disoriented state, neither of you saw the large pipe coming until it was too late. You felt Joey slipping from your grip. He was being sucked into the pipe, feet first, like a dust bunny into a vacuum.

  “(Y/N)!”

You stubbornly held onto his wrist, while you clung to the lip of the cauldron with your other hand, using it like an anchor. Little by little though, you felt Joey’s hand gradually being pulled out of yours, as fiercely as you tried to hang on. Then, he was gone. 

Joey got dragged up the pipe, screaming. All you could do was watch, terrified of what was going to happen to him. The pipe turned its attention on you. 

Your feet suddenly slid up out from under you as it tried to pull you in as well. You held tightly to the cauldron with both hands. The surface of the questionable liquid mix in front of you rippled. It gave you an idea. An awful, putrid, idea that you were going to hate yourself for making later, but it would be worth it to save Joey. 

You took a deep breath. With your remaining strength, you squeezed your eyes shut, and plunged yourself head first into the cold, semi-gelatinous concoction. The liquid spilled over the rim, down the sides of the cast iron to the floor. It was cramped in there. 

Your whiskers tingled strangely, you could feel it through even fiber of fur, as the liquid surrounding you began to move upwards. The pipe, acting like a straw, sucked up the liquid, and you along with it, into a twisting maze of darkness and metal. As you were getting tossed around, constantly hitting the inside of the pipe as you slid down (or up?), you fought to gulp down as much air as you could before being temporarily submerged again. The pipe finally spat you out along with the mix.

A yawning opening of rotating wooden spikes, and an ominous green glow greeted you. You screamed, flailing in the air with nothing to stop your free fall. 

Except something did. Somebody caught your ankle as you dropped. 

  “Joey?!” 

He hung on to the ledge of the pit with one hand, claws desperately digging into the wood. The other was all that was keeping you from going down the digestion tube. For the moment. 

  “(Y/N), I don’t think….I can hang on….much longer,” he struggled. 

You looked up, or down really, at the pit where the concoction had gone. Something was happening. The bubbling, frothing, liquid below was getting closer, closer…. 

  “Joey,” you called to him. “Get ready to swim!” 

  “Huh?” 

You held your breath as the water level rose to your head, and you were submerged. It was warm, not boiling, thank goodness. It overtook Joey a few seconds after, bubbling over into the room. Temporarily freed from gravity, Joey released your ankle as the both of you floated out of the pit. 

The house’s front door couldn’t stand the pressure anymore, and it burst open, retching. Joey and you were washed outside like fish washed up on a beach after being tossed around by a violent tide. It left you both coughing, sputtering, and gasping for breath on the overgrown lawn. Gradually, your senses came back. You saw the house still spitting out liquid, making ghastly wet noises. The realization clicked in your brain. 

  “Did we just get vomited out?” you sneered, disgusted.

It beat getting digested by long shot, but it was still gross, and not what you’d had in mind. You felt queasy. 

  “Uh, did we?” Joey unsteadily propped himself up on his elbows, looking around. His eyes went wide as he grinned. “We did! It worked!” 

Bone-chilling, rumbling growls from the house cut his celebrating short. The house was quickly recovering. Joey haphazardly got to his feet, helped you up, and the both of you ran for the sidewalk. The front door swung open, the red carpet tongue, though shortened, lashed out. You and Joey raced onto the street. The carpet reached it’s limit. 

Standing in the middle of the road, gaping in morbid awe, you both watched the house strain, trying to get you, its foundation creeping from the effort.The carpet wrenched itself one way and the other, trying to go further. Eventually, it retreated. The door slammed shut angrily as the house glared at its escaped prey. 

Sensing you were no longer in immediate danger, your body chose that moment to empty your stomach as well. You turned away from Joey, and spilled your dinner onto the street. 

  “Oh, geez,” Joey’s ears flattened. He rubbed your back while you were doubled over and panting, unsure if you were finished yet. “(Y/N), you didn't you drink any of what I made, did you?” 

  “No. Well, after you got snatched up, I decided the only way to get your mix into its stomach would be to make sure it sucked it up with me. So I jumped into the cauldron.” 

  “You what?!” 

  “I might’ve swallowed some while going through the pipe. Ughgh,” you held your aching abdomen. 

  “Okay, if you don’t feel better in an hour, we’re going to a doctor,” he said worriedly. 

  “Hey!” A high pitched voice shouted.

The both of you heard running feet in your direction. It was those kids from earlier. They bounded right up to you, loudly vocalizing questions and praises at the two of you for escaping. You cringed, ears going back, and feeling a headache coming on. Thankfully, Joey took over, getting the kids to calm down enough to talk normally. 

They introduced themselves as James, Chuck, and Holly. According to them the ‘Monster House’ had been menacing them and the other local children for some time. The adults in their lives didn’t believe their stories, the house being smart enough not to attack everyone in the neighborhood. The three had taken it upon themselves to shoo away any trick-or-treaters unaware of the threat. 

  “We were surprised when you guys started going to the house,” said James. 

  “Yeah, grown-ups don’t trick-or-treat, they just go to their dumb parties,” Chuck added. 

  “How did you make it spit you out like that?” Holly asked eagerly. “No one who got taken inside has ever come out!” 

 Joey placed an arm around your shoulders, “My good friend here found a cabinet full of assorted drinks and chemicals and gave me the idea of making the house ‘sick’ by mixing together a nasty batch of swill.” 

  “What I meant was: too ill to move,” you smirked weakly. “When you make a vomit-inducing drink though, you make a vomit-inducing drink.” 

Chuck’s eyes lit up, “Do you still have some of that? I, uh, know a guy who might want some.” 

  “Sorry kiddo, we had to use all of it on the house,” Joey shrugged. 

  “Aw.” 

  “Speaking of,” you said, looking around the kids at the aforementioned building, “I don’t think we can just walk away from this. It’s only a matter of time before someone else comes along and gets gobbled up. And they won’t be a master mixologist like you.”

You leaned a little closer, gazing up at him. Joey glanced away shyly, scratching the back of his neck, “Oh, I don’t know about master, ha, ha.” 

  “Please don’t flirt in front of us children,” Holly said flatly with a frown. Shocking you both. 

  “Ah, right then,” you cleared your throat, stepping away from Joey. Your body already missed the shared warmth. “Does anyone actually live in that house?” 

The kids looked at each other before James answered, “Old Mr. Killian lived there for a long time. He got taken to the hospital two weeks ago and hasn’t come back. I think he died.” 

  “Okay, that makes this easier. Now,” you leaned in conspiratorially, “which of your parents aren’t home?”

It so happened that James lived in the house across he street, and both his parents had gone to the same Halloween carnival you and Joey had planned on attending. And they’d left on foot, which was great news, because they’d left their car with gasoline inside. Chuck’s house was likewise vacant and he knew where his dad stored some illegally acquired alcohol which you requested he fetch. In the meantime, you and Joey siphoned the gas out of the car into some empty glass milk bottles, something you knew how to do courtesy of research done prior for a novel. The kids donated the bandanas and sashes of their costumes as cloth. James provided matches. 

Holly turned out to have a pretty good throwing arm. She could throw those beer bottles all the way across the lawn of the Monster House to smash against the wooden porch. The house didn’t like that at all, hissing at you, Joey, and your new friends the whole time, the lot of you safely outside its boundary. 

Joey took a crack at it and landed a hit on the porch roof. The bottle exploded into fragments and the beer spilled out, dribbling down the wood.

  “Alright!” he cheered. You and the kids along with him. 

The Monster House didn’t seem quite so frightening anymore. You knew that was an illusion you couldn’t fall for. You struck a match, and held it to the cloth of the first bottle filled with gasoline.

  “Okay Slugger,” you handed it to Joey with a grin, “let’s see you do that again.” 

  “You got it! I’ll give her the ol’ wind up.” 

Joey pulled back his arm and lifted one leg, mimicking what he’d seen pitchers in baseball do, without grasping the technique. He let that flaming bottle fly.

It missed its intended high target, breaking against the base of the porch instead with a crackling pop. There was a small explosion as the fire met the gasoline, igniting small portions of the wooden porch. 

There was a definitive screech from the house as it realized what you were all doing. You almost felt sorry for it. Then again, it had apparently killed a few people already, before it tried to eat you and Joey. You handed your friend another lit bottle. 

In about fifteen minutes, a good blaze had worked up. The house thrashed and screamed like a trapped animal as the flames invaded, chewing away its flammable parts like rats gnawing at a carcass. You all watched with horrified fascination. The black smoke drifting up into the sky, pale moonlight bouncing off it. 

  “Yeah, that’s what you get for trying to eat us, you stupid old house,” Chuck blew a raspberry at it. 

You tapped him on the shoulder, reminding him, “Chuck, someone has to call the fire department, remember?” 

  “Huh? Oh yeah! Be right back!” he trotted off to his house to use the telephone. 

You turned your attention back to the fire. The wooden creaking and screaming began to die down as the whole house was engulfed in flame. You slipped an arm around Joey’s waist, holding him close. He did the same for you. 

  “You holding up okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I didn’t think we were gonna get eaten by a living house and teach some ten-year-olds how to commit arson, but, I guess, there’s worse ways to spend Halloween night.” 

  “Oh, the carnival!” Joey remembered. “Shoot, it’s probably closing up by now. I know how much you were looking forward to it.” 

You shook your head, “It’s fine. There’s always next year. I mostly wanted to go because I thought it would help you out of your funk.” 

  “My…what?” he arched a brow. 

  “Your funk. Slump. Bout of depression,” you clarified. “You’ve been moping around ever since the incident, and I understand you need to grieve. Being unemployed sure isn’t helping with that. I was hoping tonight would be just what you needed to get your spirits back up. But then, I saw that dumb candy bowl, and everything went off the rails from there. I’m sorry I dragged you into all that.” 

Joey scoffed, “You couldn’t have known that house was alive. And, I guess I really have been down in the dumps lately, huh.” 

  “I’m back,” Chuck came running out of the surrounding darkness, huffing and puffing. “The firefighters are on their way,” he rasped between breaths. 

  “I suppose that means it’s time for us to part company,” said Holly. She looked up at you and Joey gratefully, “Thank you for helping us finally get rid of that monster.”

  “Uh-huh, I can finally sleep at night knowing the house isn’t watching me through my window anymore,” said James. 

You and Joey made eye-contact, having the same thought, and agreeing instantly. You both smiled. 

  “The night’s not over yet,” said Joey. 

  “Huh?” 

  “What do you mean?” asked Chuck. “All the houses that were giving out candy have gone dark.” 

  “We’ve pretty much missed Halloween,” Holly’s shoulders slumped. Even her tail drooped. 

 Joey bent down a bit to be more level with them, “Well, how do you kids feel about doughnuts?”

  “Doughnuts?” Their little ears all pricked up. 

You nodded, “Joey and I know this nice little shop that’s not far, and should still be open. You guys sacrificed your whole Halloween to keep other kids, and knucklehead adults like me, safe from that Monster House, and you were so brave helping us. I think that more than deserves a reward.” 

  “Yup, on us,” Joey thumbed to himself. “What d’ya say?” 

Naturally, they accepted, thrilled at the prospect of all the sugary pastries they could eat. 

During the walk to the doughnut shop, you couldn’t help noticing how much livelier the atmosphere had become. The children had a lot to do with it, animatedly chatting with each other over the night’s events, but Joey was much different than he had been when he’d left with you at the start of the evening. He was cheerfully talking with the kids, pulling you into the conversation when he could, a huge grin plastered across his face. Seeing its return after so long had you feeling warm and fuzzy inside.

That was the Joey you knew and loved. 

Chapter Text

You arrived at the Union Trust building at around quitting time to pick up Lacy. And, in true Lacy fashion, she wasn’t ready to quit yet.  

You found her at her desk surrounded by stacks of papers and books, a few empty coffee cups, and typing away furiously on her type writer. She was glaring at the page, fingers pressing the keys harshly like they owed her money. 

You walked up to her casually, remaining quiet as not to disrupt her thoughts. When she did finally look up and spot you right across from her, wearing your complete Sherlock Holmes costume, she jumped in her seat with a little.

  “Oh! (Y/N)!” 

  “Hi Lacy! Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up you. I thought you heard me come in.” 

  “No, it’s alright,” she rubbed her tired eyes, then massaged her temples. “I tend to block the world out when I’m trying to finish something in a hurry. I thought I’d have this done and filed before you showed up.” She looked up at the ticking clock on the wall with a frown. “That time already?” 

  “Yup. Do you have your costume? We can swing by your place on the way if you left it at home.” 

Lacy sighed. She sighed in that specific way she sighs when she’s getting ready to tell you bad news. You had a feeling you knew what she was going to say and mentally braced yourself.  

  “Listen, (Y/N), I know I agreed to go to the Halloween carnival with you, but there’s still so much paperwork I have to-“ 

  “No, none of that!” Cut in a man’s voice.

  “Mr. Sable?” Lacy stood from her chair as her boss strode in from his office.  

He looked more tired than her. You’d never seen him without a waistcoat to hide his suspenders before. His glasses sat at a crooked angle on his muzzle, and his hair was a bit mussed.

  “All those files will still be here when you get back. The company won’t go belly up just because you decided not to work overtime for one night.” 

  “But-“ 

  “You work harder than any other employee, Lacy. You deserve a night out with your friend.” He nodded in your direction. You perked up eagerly, smiling wide with hopeful expectant eyes. “Besides, haven’t you been telling me you were looking forward to tonight?” 

  “That’s…true,” she said, somewhat bashfully, ears pinning back slightly. After looking between you and her boss one more time, she conceded defeat. “Alright. I’ll get my purse.” 

  “That’s the spirit,” said Mr. Sable. “And don’t worry about coming in on time tomorrow morning. If you need to show up a few hours later that’s perfectly fine.” 

  “Thank you Mr. Sable, goodnight.” 

  “Yes, and Happy Halloween Sir!” You added as you and Lacy headed for the door, waving to him.

He gave a small laugh, waving back, “Happy Halloween to you too.” 

The two of you caught a cab to Lacy’s quaint and tidy apartment where you waited patiently while she put on her costume. Since you were going as Sherlock Holmes, it didn’t take much convincing to get her to dress up as the brilliant and beautiful Irene Adler. Lacy had also chosen to lean more into Irene’s career as an Opera singer, donning a flowing white gown dotted with glittering costume jewelry you’d help sew on, and a long lime green feather boa. It honestly looked better than some of her professional evening ware outfits, and you were proud to have had a hand in its creation. 

  “It turned out so well! I bet a lot of people are going to admire you at the carnival,” you said casually on the way out. 

She turned to you with a look. You realized what you just said.

“Oh- uh the costume! I mean they’ll admire the costume, you look so good in it- uh - or it looks good on you.” You haplessly stuttered. 

A little smile broke across her face as a small giggle escaped her. 

  “It’s alright (Y/N), I know what you mean. I think you look good too.”

  “Oh…thanks.” You said, feeling relieved. 

  “Your costume’s not bad either.” 

It was amazing how such a short sentence could get your insides dancing the Can-Can. 

You and Lacy had chosen to walk the rest of the way to the carnival to enjoy the fall weather. While passing by one of the many city alley ways, you overheard a commotion. 

It was a group of kids, four in total, though very obviously it was three against one. The smallest of them, who was being picked on, wore a simple sheet ghost costume that two of the taller ones viciously pulled at, either to rip it or tear it off the kid. Most likely both. The remaining kid was holding a small bag, and jumped up and down excitedly cheering on the bullies.

  “Take it off! Take it off!”

   “NO!” 

If there was one thing in this world you could not stand, it was bullies. You were about to tell Lacy to hang on a minute while you did something, but she beat you to it. She angrily stalked into that alley, breaking away from you. 

  “HEY YOU! KNOCK THAT OFF!” Her voice was amplified by the small space of the alley, booming between the bricks. 

You went in right behind her. If Lacy wasn’t intimidating enough, hopefully the presence of two adults would discourage anything more unpleasant. The kids all turned to her, freezing to the spot, tails puffing. 

  “It’s the Mama Ghost!” One of them yelled. The three instigators took off screaming, leaving behind the kid in the bedsheet, and you and Lacy. 

  “Mama ghost?” Lacy voiced, puzzled. 

  “Probably because of all the white you’re wearing, and this little guy,” you gestured to the child. He was sitting on the grimy ground. Audible sniffling came from under the sheet. You knelt down in front of him. “Hey, it’s okay. Those jerks aren’t gonna bother you anymore. I’m (Y/N), and this is Lacy. Don’t worry, she’s only scary to mean people. She’s really a very nice lady. What’s your name?” 

Moving lumps under the sheet indicated the kid was rubbing their eyes, likely trying to wipe away tears. When the head looked up at you, a face made of black painted blots for eyes and a mouth was revealed. You assumed that was where the eye holes were, because you could feel the kid staring at you. For some reason, it gave you goosebumps. 

  “Paul,” came the meek response after a minute of awkward silence. 

  “Paul,” you repeated. “That’s a nice name. Okay Paul, where are your parents?” 

  “They’re not supposed to come get me yet.”  

  “Alright,” you nodded, unsure what to do with that answer. 

  “I-I wanted to Trick-or-Treat by myself. A-And those big meanies took my candy!” 

  “They did? That’s awful! I’m so sorry to hear that. Maybe we can get you home to your parents.”

  “They’re too far away,” Paul shook his head. “And I want my candy back!” 

  “Okay. Well, I don’t think we can do that. We don’t know where those other kids went. But, how about some new candy?

A sniff, “New candy?” 

You smiled, sensing you had Paul’s undivided attention. 

  “Sure, Lacy and I are on our way to a carnival. There’s plenty of houses between here and there you can Trick-or-Treat at and we’ll keep watch for you.” 

  “You will?!”

  “We will?” Lacy asked, far less enthusiastically. 

  “Of course,” you assured. 

  “Gee thanks! But, um, I don’t have a bag anymore. Those jerks took mine.” 

You hummed thoughtfully, pondering. It was a conundrum. You couldn’t very well head back to Lacy’s place now and get a pillow case for the kid, and they didn’t exactly hand out candy buckets for free. What would Holmes do? Probably improvise a candy bag on the spot with something, rather conveniently, near by, but you only had your costume….oh! 

You took off your cloak and knotted the ends together into a knapsack. 

  “That should do it.” 

Paul gasped delightedly as you handed it to him, “Golly, thanks!” 

  “Any time. Now let’s get a move on.”

The kid practically skipped out of the alley. Before you could step back onto the sidewalk after him, Lacy put a hand on your shoulder, asking to pause. You turned to see worry upon her face.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” She asked. “We don’t know this kid, or his parents.” 

  “Ah, well, it was pretty spur of the moment,” you admitted. “If Paul tells us how to get in contact with his parents then we should do that, until then, I don’t mind watching him. He’s had a crummy Halloween tonight, but there’s still time to turn it around.”

Lacy was unconvinced. 

“Or, did you want to do something else?” You questioned tentatively. 

Lacy closed her eyes for a moment, thinking. At last she said, “No. I guess not. If we left Paul alone now and something happened to him, it would be our fault. It’s— It’s just that— “

  “Mx. (Y/N)? Miss Lacy?” Paul’s voice came echoing down the alley. He poked his white covered head around the corner. “Are you guys coming?” 

You looked at Lacy. She sighed and nodded. 

  “Yes, we’re coming.” 

It was much slower going to the carnival with Paul making frequent stops to ring door bells and present his makeshift goodie bag for his sweet rewards. There’d still be time to get in on the fun of course. However, you knew how much Lacy hated being put behind schedule. She hadn’t said anything so far since you left the alley. Not one word of complaint. Yet with every stop you felt yourself growing a bit more anxious to hurry things along. Lacy was right about not being able to leave Paul on his own at this point, and you were beginning to think this really wasn’t one of your better ideas, no matter how good your intentions had been. 

Paul came excitedly bounding down the front steps of another house. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel the pure joy that only a child could experience radiating off of him. You couldn’t help but smile. 

  “They gave me a big candy bar! See!” Paul held up the chocolate as though he’d won an olympic medal. You could tell he was grinning under his sheet ghost face. 

  “Oh wow! You’re doin’ really good Paul.” You said encouragingly. 

Paul giggled, hopping up and down, “Miss Lacy, see!” 

  “Oh, um,” Lacy stumbled slightly. “Yes. It’s…average size really. You could get one just like it at the corner store.”

Paul’s delight didn’t cut out, but it did dip.

  “Huh?” 

  “Uuuh, Hey! That house has a bunch of Jack-O-Lanterns in front of it!” You pointed out a house across the street that did indeed have a nice collection of lovingly carved ghoulish gourds, candles glowing inside them. “You know a place like that gives out the good candy!” 

Paul’s dark eyes danced through the eye holes of his costume. He made a beeline for the house immediately, giving you and Lacy some room to talk. She pinched the bridge of her nose with a groan. 

  “I said the wrong thing didn’t I?” Lacey said, her ears pinned back. 

  “No…Well…” You searched your brain for a good response and came up short. 

  “I just,” Lacy started, furrowing her brow. “I don’t know how you do it (Y/N).” 

  “Do what?” You were genuinely flummoxed. 

  “Talk to children,” she admitted, almost sadly. “I’m afraid I’m not good at it at all. I seem to have a habit of making them cry.” 

  “Oh that can’t be true.”

  “Last December, Wick was talking to the children of some employees, asking them what they wanted Santa to bring them. I thought that was silly and said they ought to just ask their parents because Santa Claus isn’t real. Good gracious they got upset,” Lacy winced at the memory. 

  “Oh,” you said, two octaves lower, deflated. “Okay. To tell the truth, I’m no expert at kids either.” 

  “It seems to come so naturally to you though.” 

  “Lacy, I’m not a parent or a teacher. The only thing I know about kids is that they hate being talked down to. They want to be treated like grown-ups.” 

  “But they’re not,” Lacy lightly scowled. 

  “I know, but they don’t wanna hear that. Just, treat them like they’re very smart, not in a condescending way, they can always tell when you’re doing that. Take what they say seriously, even the silly stuff like Santa. They’re kids, they’re allowed to be silly. And you wanna know a secret?” 

  “…Sure.” Lacy leaned a little closer as you whispered behind your hand conspiratorially. 

  “On nights like this, grown-ups like us get to be silly too,” you smirked. 

Her shoulders shook as she chuckled. 

  “Really?” Her amber eyes danced.

  “Heck yeah! We’re both dressed up as storybook characters, remember?” 

  “The great Sherlock Holmes and Miss Irene Adler are well known literary figures. Hardly what I’d deem simple ‘storybook characters,’” she countered. There was no bite behind her words. 

  “Nevertheless, my point remains.” 

  “Hey you guys!” Paul’s voice carried over from the porch steps. He pointed further down the block, “What’s all that.” 

There, in the distance, set up just outside the brick and mortar buildings of the city, was a cluster of bright lights and tents. Music faintly drifted on the air.  

You smiled and called back, “That is the carnival.” 

The carnival was splendid! A live band kept the mood upbeat with their folk music, and there was much dancing and singing to accompany them. There were stalls serving food, mainly cooked vegetables, caramel apples, popcorn, and cotton candy. And, of course, tons of regular candies, chocolates and the like. Two tents advertised fortune telling, come see what your future husband will look like! There were plenty of games to keep guests entertained throughout the night. 

Lacy wasn’t much impressed with fortune tellers, so those tents were avoided. Your group did purchase some caramel apples to eat.

Paul, evidently not wanting to anybody to see what he looked like, tucked the treat under his sheet. The sounds of crunching came from beneath. He was finished much faster than you and Lacy were. Peculiar, but you decided the kid must’ve been hungry. 

The rest of the evening was spent between dancing and games. Lacy, as you’d expected, had needed some encouragement. As time went on, she gradually loosened up and relaxed. She even participated with you in a game of Snap Apple, where the objective was to take a bite out of an apple dangling on a string while your hands were tied behind your back. Whoever takes the biggest bite wins. Ultimately, Lacy claimed victory, managing to sink her teeth in enough to dislodge the fruit from its tether. She blushed at the modest round of applause from other guests. 

Paul was offered a turn at the game with other children, but he declined. You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to take his costume off, or was having trouble trusting other kids. You let it slide. Whatever that was, it was a problem that his parents would be better equipped to deal with. Instead, he pulled you both over to a tent featuring Ring Toss. The rules were simple: You pay the fee, and get three rings. Three chances to throw a ring onto the neck of the bottle. One successful toss wins a prize, two wins a better prize, and the biggest stuffed animals were reserved for whoever could get three for three. So, you paid up and let Paul have a go. 

He was over eager on the first shot. It went sailing over all the bottles to the back of the booth. The second ring bounced between bottlenecks. came close, but ultimately missed the mark. Paul was more selective about which bottle to throw at with his third and final ring. He took a deep breath, then threw….

The ring bounced off the top of a bottle and fell to the ground. 

Paul groaned loudly in disappointment. You patted him on the back, assuring him he did his best. These games were a lot harder than they looked. You were about to suggest moving on when Lacy plunked some money down. 

  “I want to try please,” she stated. 

The worker was more than happy to take her money and oblige, handing her three colorful rings, only somewhat bigger than a baseball. You and Paul exchanged looks, both quiet as you watched the secretary take careful aim. 

In a motion that was deceptively delicate, Lacy flicked her wrist, sending the first ring spinning through the air. It landed neatly on a bottleneck. 

You and Paul didn’t say any words as much as the two of you made happy, excited noises, loudly cheering her victory. Lacy wasn’t done yet though. 

Another toss. Another ringer. A better prize. But could she do it a third time? 

Even the carny was paying keen attention by now as a hush fell around your small group. Lacy breathed in, lined up her shot, and repeated the graceful, precise movement of her hand that had worked well so far. 

The ring caught the very lip of the bottle, and spun around it, like a hula-hoop. Everyone stared, willing the ring to stay on the bottle (except the carny, for obvious reasons). The world seemed to dim in the background. 

The ring slipped onto the bottleneck. 

You and Paul exploded with cheers, jumping up and down. Lacy was taken aback by the volume for a moment, then she started laughing with the two of you. 

  “How’d you get so good?” You asked, smiling ear to ear. 

  “Years of tennis,” she said modestly. “It’s all in the wrist.” 

  “Here’s your prize Miss,” said the carnival worker. He handed Lacy a large stuffed bear with a witch hat adorning its soft, round head and a violet bow around its neck. 

  “Thank you.” She turned to the little bed sheet ghost. “Paul, this is for you. Happy Halloween.”

A huge gasp came from under the sheet, “Thanks Miss Lacy!” 

He took it into his covered arms and hugged it. It was a very cute image.

  “And you said you weren’t good with kids,” you whispered as the three of you walked away from the booth. 

A tiny, warm smile spread across her face. 

As the hour grew late, more people began to leave. The carnival quieted down.

You could’ve kept going, but you had a little one to consider. So, again, you brought up his parents. It seemed to take Paul a minute to comprehend what you were asking.

  “Oh yeah! It’s about time for them to come get me. C’mon, I’ll show you the meeting spot!” 

The boy started striding confidently away from the carnival, his ghost costume giving the illusion of floating over the dried grass and fallen leaves. You and Lacy fell in step behind him, apparently going to wait with him for his parents at wherever this designated meeting place was.

You were not expecting it to be a graveyard. 

One of the older ones too. The headstones were cracked and worn, overgrown with weeds and tall grass. The clear night sky was vast. The full moon hung in the sky, a milky white disk afloat in a sea of stars. Crickets chirped and crows cawed from somewhere hidden in the trees. The noise of the city was a virtually nonexistent hum. A far away droning of people carrying on with their lives somewhere else. The dead were left in peace. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself in attempt to stave of a chill, a reminder that winter wasn’t far behind Halloween night. Without your cloak, you were more prone to the lower temperature. You weren’t about to ask Paul for it back though. 

A flash of white caught your eye. Lacy appeared to be in a similar state as you. Feather boas just don’t provide as much warmth as furs. 

  “Paul?” You called out.

Paul stood in the middle of a crossroads of paths through the cemetery, his head angled skywards. The stuffed bear was tucked under his arm. He’d been very quiet since they got there.

  “Yeah?” He answered after a minute.

  “When exactly do you expect your parents to show up?”

A shooting star streaked across the heavens above.

  “Any moment now,” he said in a hushed voice. “Don’t be scared.” 

  “Why would we be scared?” 

No answer. 

You and Lacy huddled closer together, partly for warmth, partly because the whole situation was gradually feeling more and more off. 

A hush fell across the cemetery. The crickets stopped chirping. The crows went quiet. There was a crackling in the air that made your fur stand on end.

You heard a low humming sound, like something mechanical, but it wasn’t a car. It was getting louder. The next second, it was thrumming in your ears. You and Lacy both looked around anxiously for the source. Paul remained still, completely calm. 

The graveyard suddenly lit up. Bright beams of light rained down from above. One beam shined down on the three of you, blindingly bright, brighter than the sun. You had to turn away, squeezing your eyes shut so tightly it hurt. Instinctively, you and Lacy held on to each other—

Then everything was gone. You experienced a surreal moment where you felt like you were everywhere and nowhere all at once. Thrust into the abyss. Frozen. Your mind blank. 

It was over in a heartbeat. Sensations came rushing back to you, like waking up from a nightmare where you’d been drowning. You gasped for air, breathing it in as if you hadn’t filled your lungs in centuries. Eventually you registered that you were standing on your two feet, and your hands were tightly clasping Lacy’s. The two of you were staring directly at each other, holding on for dear life.

  “Are-“ Lacy found her voice first, breaking the daze you were under. “Are you okay, (Y/N)?” 

  “I- I think so,” you said slowly. Nothing hurt anyways. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. The two of you began to take in you surroundings. 

  “Where are we?” Her voice was shaking. You couldn’t blame her.

You were in a cavern of metal and blinking lights, the likes of which you’d never seen before. It was a technology so advanced it put even the latest equipment at JAZCAT to utter shame. An odd swooshing noise met your ears as a portion of the wall slid open— a door that moved by itself! And on the other side were two….creatures! 

They were so tall, you and Lacy had to crane your necks to look at their bulbous heads. They had no fur, but smooth green skin that shined in the lights like an amphibian’s. Their bodies were long and slender, their eyes were large, round, black pits of obsidian. They walked upright like felines, though they lacked any tails. You and Lacy lost your voices at the sight of them, freezing in place as their shadows fell over you. 

  “Mom! Dad!”

The little figure clad in white, temporarily forgotten, now bounded up to them delightedly. Paul jumped into the waiting open hands of one of the creatures, who lifted him up. 

  “Hey Champ!” 

  “Welcome home Starlight.” 

Paul finally let his ghost sheet fall off. He was every inch a smaller version of the two creatures.

You weren’t sure if you made a noise or not. You barely processed hearing Lacy gasp in shock beside you. 

It was enough to garner one of the tall creatures’ attention. Its glistening black eyes turned to you two. You couldn’t imagine how pathetic you and Lacy had to look in that moment, fur bristling all over, trembling, small, and hugging each other like it was a life line. 

The creature made a dissatisfied noise. 

  “Dear, we’ve discussed this. No bringing wild animals into the ship.” It waved a long fingered hand in vaguely your direction. 

If you weren’t terrified out of your mind, you might’ve been insulted. 

   “Huh?” Paul glanced between it and you two. “Oh, that’s just Miss Lacy and Mx.(Y/N), Mom.”

  “Who and who?” Asked the other tall one. 

  “Okay, so after you guys dropped me off, I went Trick-or Treating. It was going really well, but then these jerks showed up and made fun of my costume!”

  “Oh no,” said his mother. “And you made it all by yourself too.” 

  “Uh-huh. They tried to rip it apart! They stole my candy too!” 

  “They what?!” The anger in her (you supposed you could refer to her as ‘her’ now) voice caused your heart to beat faster.

  “See? This is why it’s not worth it fraternizing with lower life forms,” said the father. You detected a tinge of smugness that you didn’t like. “But I got something that’ll make you feel better.” 

He pressed a few nearby buttons. A screen lit up, like a screen in a movie theatre. It showed a blue, green, and white ball against a black backdrop. A neon red bullseye popped up, overlaying it. Numerous symbols flashed across the screen that you couldn’t hope to make heads or tails of. 

“Ta-da!” He sang proudly. “The Planet Splitter Nine Trillion! Guaranteed to split any pesky planet in half, by targeting the planet’s molten core and triggering a chain reaction of explosive proportions! Just give it a minute to warm up and I’ll let you push the button to destroy it all Son!” 

It finally clicked with you that the ball on screen was the Earth. These space people were going to obliterate it.  

  “NO!” You and Lacy burst out at the same time.

  “You can’t destroy the Earth!”

  “Millions of people live there!”

  “Including us!”

The aliens seemed unimpressed by your outbursts.

  “Paul,” the mother turned to her son, “are these the creatures who stole your candy?”

  “No! No, no, they’re my friends!” Paul said. “They chased the bullies away, and they went Trick-Or-Treating with me to make sure I’d be okay. Mx. (Y/N) gave me part of their costume to use as a new candy bag, and Miss Lacy won me this at the carnival! Isn’t it stellar?!”

Paul proudly held up the stuffed bear. He was smiling happily.

The mother’s obsidian eyes turned to the father, something knowing in them. The father puffed up a bit. 

  “Two good ones doesn’t make up for an entire rotten species,” he spouted sternly. 

  “It’s good enough for me,” she answered. 

  “Dad, don’t destroy my friends’ planet! Please. You always do this! Every time I find a new planet with people on it to explore you just want to blow it up!”

  “I do not!” He spluttered. 

The mother reached over, tapped a few buttons, and the console shut off. The screen went dark. The father crossed his arms and huffed in what was unmistakably a pout. Carrying Paul in her arms, the mother approached you and Lacy.

You both stood up straight, like children trying to behave as best they could in front of a new schoolmaster. A closer look at the mother and her son did not make them any less foreign and outright bizarre to you. However, there was a softness to the mother’s features. You recognized it as gentleness. She bent down to be at eye level with you felines. 

  “Thank you,” she said in such a way it felt as though it came from the core of her being. “My son has long held an interest in the traditions and cultures of other societies. It is a passion that not all of our kind appreciate.” She ignored the angry huffing in the background. “You showed great kindness and empathy to protect my son and include him in your traditions.”

  “Uh, it was nothing…Ma’am,” your voice said once you found it again. 

  “Yes, it was our pleasure,” added Lacy. “It was…fun, having him join us.” 

  “I’m glad,” the mother smiled. She straightened up. “I apologize for any rudeness or fear we may have caused you both. I promise we will not destroy your world, and you will be returned home safely.”

It was like a vice around your torso suddenly loosened. You could breathe again. You and Lacy both thanked her.

  “Goodbye (Y/N)! Goodbye Lacy!” Paul waved. “Happy Halloween!” 

You barely had time to wave back before the bright beam of light came back again, sending you into that strange in between. 

Next thing you knew, you and Lacy were back in the graveyard. The ship in the sky was gone, taking its awful electronic thrumming with it. As if it was never there. The night was peaceful once more. 

You and Lacy found a nice grassy hill to lie down on. You hadn’t an inkling of what time it was, nor did you care much yet. It was just you, Lacy, and the night sky. It seemed different now that you knew there might be other people up there gazing back down at you. The events of the evening had given you much to think about. 

After some time, you broke the silence.

  “That was a lot more than I thought we’d be doing tonight,” you posited into the night air. 

  “Oh yes. A lot indeed,” Lacy mirrored your tone. 

  “You know what’s frustrating about it all?”

  “That we aren’t alone in this universe, and that there are beings out there who possess the means and the apathy to kill us all on a whim?” Her face was grim. 

  “We saved the world, and no one will ever know.” 

Lacy didn’t answer. 

“If we’d ignored Paul, or just left him, they might’ve really let his dad end all life on Earth. Because a couple of kids were mean to him. I can understand being upset over someone treating your kid so poorly, but that feels like a huge overreaction. We wouldn’t be here right now, laying on this grass, seeing these stars, having this conversation.” 

Lacy’s hand found yours. She squeezed it tenderly. You squeezed back. 

  “Everyone would be gone,” she breathed.

  “But they’re not,” you reminded her. “In a way, that kind of makes us heroes.” 

She blinked, coming out of her stupor. At least enough for her amber eyes to land on you. You offered a small grin.

“I know what my next story is going to be about. Maybe Mr. Lexington will actually want to hear it this time.”

It got a tiny chuckle out of her at least. 

  “I suppose, even with all the terrifying, bizarre things that happened tonight, if given the opportunity, I would do it all over again. Not just to save the world. I…genuinely had fun tonight. More than I’ve had in quite a while, being buried under paperwork all the time and constantly trying to keep Mister Sable away from liquor. I think this was just what I needed,” she sighed. 

You felt just that little bit warmer holding her hand. 

  “Happy Halloween Lacy.”

  “Happy Halloween (Y/N).”