Page 13 of Dead Serious Halloween Special
Small, delicate fairies flit through the air, glowing like fireflies. Flying high above on their brooms, witches with hooked noses and pointy hats cackle loudly as they circle the gingerbread man’s head.
Sam and I are suddenly shoved out of the way. We stumble to the side and glance over to see several young women in ballgowns pirouette down the street.
“One, two, three, four… twelve dancing princesses?”
I breathe heavily. “What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know.” Sam sighs. “I hate to say it, but this has got Tristan and Harrison written all over it.”
“Bookshop?” I say.
He nods. “Bookshop.”
We both take off running.
“What is it, boo?” Dusty asks.
“I don’t know,” I murmur as I frown. “I just can’t help thinking this is a bad idea.” I nurse my cup of fruit punch and watch Chan’s party in full swing. “I’ve got a bad feeling.”
“You only feel that way because a bunch of creepy green smoke leaked out of an ancient book of magic right before a strange little hairy naked guy exploded into a Jackson Pollack-esque style wall mural of glitter.”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“We’ve seen worse, or did you forget the tentacles?” She wiggles her long-taloned fingers, as if I had indeed forgotten the chaos tentacle monster who tried to escape through the magic portal in this very building.
Rolling my eyes, I reach into the pocket of my pirate costume and retrieve my phone to check for missed calls and messages. My stomach churns uneasily when there are none.
“What?” Dusty asks as she studies my face.
“It’s just Danny’s not here yet. He should have finished work by now. To be honest, I kinda expected him to quit his job and pitch up hours ago.”
“I’m sure he’s fine, but if you want, I can go check in with him?”
Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I glance up at her and sigh. “Thanks, Dusty, but I’m sure you’re right.”
“I usually am.” She waves her hand airily.
“He’s probably fine.” I shake my head and try to ignore the worry gnawing away in the pit of my belly. Instead, I turn my attention more fully to Dusty, my gaze running over her skintight black leather cat costume and corset, down to the platform stiletto boots she’s wearing that are so high I honestly get vertigo just looking at them. “Aren’t you supposed to be out guiding spirits or something?”
She shrugs. “What are they going to do? Fire me? Please.” She rolls her eyes. “Besides, something tells me that tonight, this is the place to be.”
“Well, that just fills me with confidence,” I mutter.
“Tristan!” a voice with a sweet Irish lilt calls out, and as the crowd shifts, I see Aidan weave his way through the revellers, narrowly avoiding several very enthusiastic dance moves courtesy of some of the guests.
“Aidan.” I smile as he stops in front of us, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright. “You look good. I like your costume.” I eye the elaborate and film-accurate pirate costume, complete with tricorn and a beard made up of tentacles.
“Chan helped me make it.” He beams. “It’s Davy Jones fromPirates of The Caribbean. Nick and I are going to get tickets to LondonComic Connext year, so I’ve been experimenting with cosplay. You should see Nick’s costume!”
“Is he here?” I ask, glancing around, but all I can see is a formation of gyrating bodies doing the Time Warp on the makeshift dance floor.
“He’s running late,” Aidan replies. “He should be here soon.”
I snort. “I think we’re going to have to have words with these Hayes men about their timekeeping.”
“Is Danny not here either?” Aidan frowns.
“He seems to be AWOL.” I try to keep my tone lighthearted, but I still can’t seem to shake the sense of unease. “But I’m sure he won’t be much longer,” I add.