Page 7 of Hallowed & Haunted

“Photoshop,” Sander deadpans.

The urge to stop Henrik from poking at something better left alone is getting stronger, and Niillas has to fight to keep quiet.

“Where’s this place anyway?” Emma’s friend asks, now properly relocated on her lap.

“About forty minutes north of here. The farmhouse sits near a lake deep in the forest; the road leading there is a dead end.”

Sander has gone very still, his knuckles white on the beer bottle.

“Have you ever been there?”

Henrik grins, a shark sensing blood.

“Once. During the day, mind you. Even then, the place felt wrong. There’s a rusted gate and a long driveway that disappears into the trees. Spooky.”

Sander grins, slow and challenging.

“You’re talking such garbage.”

“Tell you what, Captain, since you’re so sure the story is bullshit, why don’t you spend the night there? Halloween night, alone in the haunted farmhouse. Prove to us all that our team captain isn’t afraid of some pesky ghost stories.”

All eyes turn to Sander, and Niillas’ whole body tenses, his every instinct screaming danger.

“That’s a stupid dare,” Jonas says quickly. “The place is probably structurally unsound, and—”

“Fine.” Sander’s voice cuts through Jonas’ protest. He sets down his beer and stands, swaying slightly. “I’ll do it alone if no one has the guts to join me.”

Henrik’s eyes sparkle with malicious glee, and Niillas makes a mental note to let him pay for this fuck up during their next training session.

“Trying to bring backup?” Henrik taunts, but even as he says it, Niillas realizes no one’s going to come.

His hockey mates show more sense than he would’ve given them credit for. All except one, that is.

Sander’s gaze sweeps across the room, lingering on faces that suddenly find their drinks very interesting.

“Anyone who wants to prove they’re not scared of Henrik’s ridiculous ghost stories is welcome to join me,” Sander says, his tone stubborn and proud.

The silence stretches uncomfortably, and Sander’s jaw tightens as he realizes that no one is going to volunteer.Something flickers across his face, maybe hurt, maybe fear, hastily masked with a too-bright smile. Niillas relaxes slightly. Now the only thing Sander has to do is mock the others’ cowardice and retreat from his commitment more or less gracefully, so everyone can get back to partying.

“Guess I’m going alone then,” is what Sander says.

What the ever-loving fuck?

“No.”

The word is out of his mouth, and Niillas is on his feet before he can think better of it. Everyone turns to stare at him.

“You volunteering to go with him, mountain man?” Henrik’s voice drips with challenge and something else. Something nasty. Maybe the prospect of Sander and Niillas tearing each other apart when left to their own devices.

What an ass.

“Yes, I’m volunteering, and no, Captain, you’re not going alone.”

“Well, awesome,” Henrik says, sitting back with satisfaction. “Looks like we have our volunteers.”

“This is stupid,” Emma says sharply. “You’re all drunk, and the place is probably dangerous without any trolls or ghosts being needed.”

“It’s just one night,” Henrik says like a dismissive teacher, and Emma a particularly dense student. “What’s the worst that could happen?”