Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (18)
If those stories were true, why would the town celebrate Halloween so heavily? It seemed more natural it would be a day of mourning, not a month of celebrating. Then again, it was probably all just a scary story meant to frighten children. Made and told to keep children out of the woods at night.
Some say it was the beasts of the woods.
That was . . . an oddly specific statement. And eerie after what I saw this morning standing at the tree line. It was probably my mind playing tricks on me and I was reading too much into it. Onyx was an attorney, I presumed, so he thrived off fucking with peoples’ heads. But then, how’d he know my name if I were just some random to mess with?
I wondered if I could ask Mr. and Mrs. Moore at dinner the following week. Would they think I was crazy for asking about old stories? Something didn’t quite add up, and not in that usual way that legends were a bit outlandish. But something was off that felt specific. It felt as if everyone knew but no one wanted to say. I hoped dancing that Hallows Fest could shed some light on the mysteries that were surrounding me.
The oddest thing about this entire situation was probably the fact I was thinking about stupid ghost stories instead of things like, oh, escaping a violent death by the hands of my criminal stepfather.
But also, I was considering stopping by the support group Dr. Cove told me about. It was only a short walk through the town from Yesenia’s shop, but I couldn’t show up in my pjs. I already looked like enough of an invalid as it was. “Hello, dear,” an older woman’s voice croaked as I thumbed at a blue dress. “I’m Marcelene. Please let me know if I can help you find anything.”
The older woman was short with long and wild gray hair. Her rosy cheeks glowed as she smiled warmly. She only looked to be in her forties, and not like a grandma in the slightest.
“Hi, I’m Blythe. I’m new in town. You must be Yesenia’s abuela?”
She cackled softly. “Yes, child, I am. And everyone here knows who you are.” She looked me up and down. “Your legs must be freezing. I hope you’re here for a pair of our wool-lined leggings.”
“Oh, those sound perfect, thank you. I’m renting a basement apartment that flooded overnight. All of mine are ruined, unfortunately. Is Yesenia around?”
Marcelene pulled four pairs of thick leggings out of a chest in the corner. “No, not today, but I’m sure you’ll see her soon.” She winked. “I hear you’re our new fox. Don’t worry, I’m sworn to secrecy. I would never reveal someone’s identity at Hallows.”
I clutched the leggings to my chest, already absorbing their cozy warmth. “Is that another festival rule? You can’t share someone’s identity if you know?”
Marcelene plucked a long-sleeved maxi dress off its hanger and passed it to me. “Yes and no. Who we are changes at Hallows. Even if you knew who someone was, they may not respond to their regular name within the celebration. They may not even remember it. Some would say the grounds of Hallows are bewitched.”
That was . . . interesting. “Wow, this town takes its cosplay very seriously, huh?”
She cackled again. “You’re about to find out just how seriously, dear.”
“Should I bring anything other than my costume?”
“Just your wits,” she said coyly, and I could see the resemblance between her and her granddaughter. They had that same feisty charm.
I grabbed a pair of wool socks to add to my stack of clothing. “So do you believe it was serial killers, an army, or monsters that took out the town in the legends?”
Marcelene’s smile faltered as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. I got the impression I’d said something wrong. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend . . .”
“Who told you that?” she asked, tone somber as she straightened the row of crystal balls.
“Someone I met this morning at the diner. His name was Onyx Hart.”
She snorted. “He would know.”
Ames had mentioned that everyone here had their own version of events, their own ghost story they believed about the town. What I didn’t realize was how seriously some seemed to take it. It was just an old spooky story, right? A silly tradition.
I paid for my items with what I suspected was a steep discount. Marcelene was kind enough to let me change in their dressing room before leaving. My ugly bruises still on full display, I pulled on a long-sleeved navy dress that hooked around the thumbs and a thick beige cardigan. The luxurious fabric fit my curves perfectly, making me look more adult than my usual band T-shirt and ripped jeans combo. Dodging the white envelope of doom, I pulled my eye makeup from my purse and did a smokey eye complete with burgundy lipstick. My long, wavy brown hair fell nicely over my shoulders. I thought I looked like someone who lived here. Like if you were passing through, you might stop and ask me for directions. I’d be holding Dr. Cove’s hand as we took our morning walk with our dog, and I’d tell you exactly how to get to India Garden. The tourists would drive off and Ames and I would chuckle about how I used to work there. He’d say he stopped by just to see me that night so long ago when he worked on my car. Then he’d sweep me into his arms and swoop down for a movie starlet kiss . . . And I was daydreaming again.
Gathering the rest of my things, I thanked Yesenia’s abuela and headed out, but then something strange happened.
As I turned the knob and pushed out, the door wouldn’t budge. Thinking it must be jammed, I pushed harder. I may as well have been shoving against a brick wall.