Page 1 of Happy Halloween, Omega

1

EveryHalloween,Igeta fright.

In fact, my earliest memory is feeling frightened while watching the glow of the lit jack-o’-lanterns disappear into the fog as we sped away from our home. I don’t remember my father, or why we left, but the way my mother shakes in the company of Alphas tells me all I need to know. It was my first taste of fear, but not my last.

My mother was beautiful. The epitome of what an Omega should be. There wasn’t a day I didn’t hear her complimented for it. She was lithe, with a slender neck, large brown eyes, and a delicate mouth. Her jet-black hair fell to her waist, and her skin was creamy and soft. Others didn’t see the jagged white scar that marred her mating gland, or the fear that lurked beneath the surface. The memory of a trauma she refused to speak about haunted her every waking moment.

She never wanted me to go through whatever made her unable to sleep at night. So, she made me fearful. Or at least she tried.

I’ve always preferred the darker side of life, the shadowed underbelly that skulks unseen and drips with secrets. As a child, instead of playing with the other children, I’d seek hollow logs in the woods behind my home – the perfect place for spiders to build their webs and catch unsuspecting prey. I’d watch the spiders with fascination, studying how they cast their webs, laying traps for their victims. They were so cunning and agile, spinning webs so intricate and delicate, yet so strong.

The books I read weren’t found in the children’s section, rather from the shadowy depths of the horror genre. They were filled with vampires, werewolves, witches, and ghosts – creatures of the dark that I both feared and longed to understand. I loved unpicking the mysteries woven through the pages, discovering the solution before the author could devolve the conclusion. Soon, I wove my own stories, taking the lessons I’d learned and applying them to my life, creating a realm of possibilities only I could unlock.

Through movies I further fostered my love of murder-mysteries, drawn by the window they offer into society’s darkest recesses and the electrifying thrill of piecing together the puzzle to unveil the truth.

The first mystery I solved in the real world was my mother.

She hid it well, yet I discovered her secret nonetheless. My mother was terrified I’d present as an Omega just like her.

“The world is not a nice place for Omegas, Celeste,” she said as I grew older. I’d hear her say it when we went for a walk in the garden, her eyes always surreptitiously glancing over her shoulder, or when she’d tuck me into bed.

When I turned sixteen, I felt different. Irritable and moody and desperate for something I couldn’t identify. I pilfered every soft blanket and pillow in the house, stuffed them in my closet and buried myself in the pile. I was confused, but my mother knew what was happening, and I think it broke her heart. Her daughter was an Omega. Her greatest fear.

Even though I didn’t like what was happening to me, I found it interesting and exciting. I didn’t care about the dangers of becoming an Omega. It all sounded like a chance to discover another world with all of its secrets ready to be unearthed. So few people present as Omegas, making The Omega Academy the ultimate shadowed doorway to step through.

I waited anxiously to be sent to The Omega Academy, but it never happened. In fact, I was never confirmed by a doctor as an Omega at all.

Instead, a small packet of purple pills appeared on my nightstand with a glass of water. Despite my curious nature, I didn’t question what they were. I trusted my mother. I wanted her to be proud of me. So I took the pills. They made my blossoming scent dull, prevented my glands from rising into bright red bumps, and halted my developing curves. By the time I realized what they did, to the rest of the world I was a Beta.

The older I grew, the more my mother’s fear morphed into paranoia, and she became hostile when questioned about the pills or her past.

Like a curious cat, unable to help its nature, I questioned… everything.

Why was my mother allowed to be unmated as an Omega? Where was my father? What happened in our home that made us leave?

My mother was the ultimate mystery to solve. So I pulled that thread, following it back to her past and unwittingly opening doors to monsters lurking beyond.

I don’t spook easily, but this is the story of my haunting.

2

EveryHalloween,Igeta fright.

Instead of hiding from it, I embrace the anticipation of the thrill.

The music is pumping as I dance wildly in the thrumming crowd, my hair whipping around me and sweat dripping down my back.

Halloween is the one day of the year when pretending to be someone else is not only acceptable, but encouraged. Others are dressed in lazy costumes, a pair of fairy wings dug out from a kid’s fancy dress box or a foam sword strapped to a belt. Not me. I’ve always gone all out for Halloween.

My outfit is an accurate replica of the costume worn by Halle Berry in the 2004 movie “Catwoman.” A sleek black leather suit clings to my form, complemented by a black mask with pointy ears, long black leather gloves tipped with sharp claws, and thigh-high heeled boots. Clipped to the cinching belt is a thin, coiled whip. The ensemble is tailored to fit me like a glove, and cost me an entire paycheck. It’s utter perfection and entirely wasted on this mindless crowd. No one even looks twice at me, and it’s just another reason I love Halloween – the anonymity. I don’t have to worry about being caught pretending here, because everyone is pretending too.

The DJ puts on a song that makes the girls beside me scream with excitement, and I dance harder, losing myself in the moment. I’m so lost in the music I don’t notice the guy standing next to me until he speaks.

“Nice costume!” he shouts.

I open my eyes and look at the Beta. He’s wearing a shitty Zorro costume, his mask made from a black necktie with uneven holes cut for his eyes. I want nothing to do with him. My trusty vibrator takes care of my sexual needs, and I definitely don’t need a clumsy fumble in the sheets from this guy.

He looks around, a dopey-looking smile kicking up the corners of his mouth. “I’ve never seen you here before.”