Page 69 of Grave Possession (Grave #2)

Chapter Fifty-eight

Graves

I hate it here.

If I didn’t have the weight of the struggling small town on my shoulders, and the legacy of my uncle breathing down my neck, I’d leave.

The atmosphere is loud and extremely chaotic, things going from zero to a hundred within seconds of the decorative gates opening.

Watching a frenzy of patrons scurry over the once blood-soaked gravel where my Uncle Oscar died turns something in my stomach.

Maybe I’m taking it too personally, the massacre from before never bothered me, but it didn’t directly affect me either.

I won’t deny it looks amazing though, every horror buff’s wet dream.

The town really went all out in memory of their fallen police captain.

The mill is thumping, strobing rave lights flickering from inside.

The haunted house and hiking trail are off to the right of the entrance, and the screams already coming from inside are really adding to the ambiance.

The DJ booth and “throne” are set up on the stage that sits outside between the mill and the haunted house.

The large, high-back, black velvet chair is backdropped by an arch.

Dismembered limbs, skulls, and bones bound to it by fake pumpkin vines.

Jack-o-lanterns adorn the stage, and the DJ’s fog machine sets the spooky atmosphere.

The night is still young, but already there are couples dry-humping in the dancing area before the stage.

A woman has been chained to the St. Andrew’s cross that stands beside the haunted house, her slutty nurse costume pushed up over her rear as a large man dressed as Pyramid Head flogs her bare ass.

“Please,” she begs, trying to move but unable to.

His gentle touch sweeps down over her flushed skin, between her legs, then inside her.

The flogger whips across her thigh as he fucks her with his fingers at a violent pace.

Her keening whines getting louder and louder with each ruthless push inside her.

Mallory strolls along beside me, taking everything in as she crushes my hand in her grip.

I can’t see her eyes behind the porcelain doll mask she wears, but I can only imagine how wide they are.

She wasn’t originally going to wear the mask, saying it clashed with her costume.

However, I think last-minute nerves got the best of her.

She wants to keep her face concealed when she’s up on the platform with me.

I can’t really complain, I’m rocking my Ghost mask with a ridiculous gold, plastic crown upon my head.

Grey insisted I wear it, to usher in a new era or some shit.

We argued until he said he would super glue it to my head if I continued with the fight… so here we are.

This crown is ostentatious, attracting too much attention.

It’s making both Mallory and I uncomfortable.

Too many people are able to recognize me, slapping me on the shoulder in congratulations, ensuring I know my uncle would be proud of me.

They shake my hand or force me into an awkward as fuck side-hug in condolence.

The funeral was enough. Every touch that isn’t Mallory’s drives me closer and closer to snapping.

I don’t like being touched, and I definitely don’t like engaging in anything that makes my little siren squirm uncomfortably.

The entire town showed up for the funeral, closing every single business to pay their respects to the great Oscar Graves.

Almost every attendee asked, “Who do we have here?”, when they approached me at the wake.

Mallory never left my side that day. Holding her head high as she was introduced to person after person, smile never faltering, even though I knew by the end of it she would have wanted to peel her skin off from so much human contact.

Her aura deflates now though, as I have to reintroduce her to every person I encounter.

I know she’ll grin and bear it though, for me, to be the person I need at my side.

Little does she know, all I need is her.

The real her.

Not some carefully constructed facade that hangs politely off the arm of the new police captain.

Viktor, a well known out-of-towner, sidles up alongside me, quiet as hell.

He hasn’t aged a day in the few years I’ve known him, lucky bastard.

Dressed up like a vampire, fake blood is painted over his mouth, it runs down his neck and half exposed chest, turning the white button down he wears into a canvas of carnage.

“Sorry to hear about your old man, Lennox.” He never calls me Nox, it’s always Lennox .

“Thanks, Vik.” He nods, thankfully knowing me well enough not to touch me. “How’s the work on the estate coming along?” I ask, hopeful to talk about literally anything other than my grief.

“Slower than I anticipated. It’s so hard to find good help that can restore its original beauty instead of modernizing it.” He spits the word like it offends him, it probably does, he’s one of those old soul types.

I’m watching Mallory from the corner of my eye, knowing as soon as she registers the conversation, she’s going to force a friendship with this man. His gothic mansion is everything she could ever want… I wonder if he’d sell it?

Sure as shit, Mallory’s head whips around so fast her mask shifts askew on her face, ripping her gaze away from the woman being fucked from behind while bobbing for apples.

The man holds her head beneath the water’s surface until she’s struggling, then he pulls her up.

Allowing her a few short breaths of air before forcing her back down into the apple infested barrel.

His gloved hand cracks off her naked ass then he releases her, gripping tight to the tassels of her ass-less chaps as he ruts into her, holding her black panties to the side with his thumb.

Straw falls to the ground from the inside of his scarecrow costume, decorating the area around them as water sloshes loudly.

The lady’s hands reach behind her, tapping his thighs.

The man jerks her out of the water as her scream of pleasure rings through the Haunt, his roar of release falling right behind hers.

“You don’t want to modernize it?” Mallory blurts out, and I have to contain my laugh. She pulls the mask from her face instead of fixing it, finally gracing me with the look of interest gleaming in her honey eyes.

Shock turns to warmth on Viktor’s face. “You must be Mallory, Oscar told me about you.”

“Yes, sorry. Wow. I’m so rude. I just shoved myself right into your conversation.” I gently squeeze her hand twice, letting her know it’s okay. It’s meant as a reassuring gesture, and I hope she doesn’t take it another way.

“That’s quite alright, Lennox’s uncle informed me you like the dark and macabre.

” Did he? When the fuck was this? Viktor must sense the confusion pouring off me because he elaborates without me needing to ask.

“I called your uncle, asking if anyone in your town could help with restoration, because everyone in Willowdale is fucking useless.” He’s not wrong there.

“Did you find anyone?”

“He suggested you and he could come by and help with restoring the hardwood, mentioning you two had done it before in your new place.” The memory slices through me, and all I can do is nod.

Once again, Viktor picks up on it, diverting the conversation back to Mallory to give me a moment to recentre myself.

“To answer your question, love. No, I don’t want to modernize our family home.

It’s been uninhabited for quite some time, but now that Nixon and I are back in town we’re trying to clean it up. ”

“Nixon? Is he your brother?” That’s a laugh I can’t contain, though I cough to cover the sound.

“Oh. No…definitely not,” Viktor replies.

Leaning over, I whisper to her, “They are lovers.”

“Fuck. I’m so sorry… When you said family home I ju st assumed…” She turns to me, “Can you just tape my mouth shut before I say anything else that makes me want to die of mortification?”

As if conjured by the mention of his name, Nixon emerges from the crowd.

Dressed as another vampire, he’s shirtless with a black trench coat and pants, looking like he rolled around in a pool of blood.

He comes up behind Viktor, draping his arms over his partner’s shoulders, making a show of dragging his tongue up the side of Viktor’s neck.

I hope that fake blood is edible, if not, he’s going to have a hell of a stomach ache.

While they’re enamoured with each other, I turn to Mal. “Want me to take the flooring job so you can get inside that mansion you’re dying to see?”

“Only if you want to,” she replies, so fucking sweetly.

“I’ll do it. Maybe Greyson will want to make some extra cash.”

“Or I could help…”

“Would you really want to?”

She nods. “Will you teach me?”

“Absolutely.” Pulling her close, I rub the soft rubber of my mask against her temple.

Whispering so only she can hear, “And if you really want me to tape your mouth shut, I’ll do it.

Pretty sure I could still make you scream though.

Even if I gagged you.” Mallory’s eyes shoot to mine beneath the disguise as she shivers in my hold.

“Challenge accepted,” she whispers in reply.

My smile is beaming beneath the mask, when the obscenely loud rumbling of a vehicle breaks through the sounds of the Haunt. It’s enough to pull the vampires apart, and have half the crowd turning to look .

A blacked out, lifted, Chevy short box with red underglow pulls in, the windows sporting illegal tint so dark there’s no way to tell who’s inside.

It creeps through the makeshift parking lot, dual stacks rolling coal as whoever is behind the wheel looks for a spot.

Good luck bud, it’s opening night. You’ll be lucky if you don’t have to park on the road.