Page 15
Chapter
Fifteen
“ E ver heard of Dayquil? Mucinex? Literally any decongestant on the market?” Reagan’s voice is dry as I sniffle, nose running and a little raw.
“Ever heard of empathy?” I mutter in reply, my voice sounding a little off because of my allergies. “And I took some shit before we left. It just takes a bit to kick in.”
“Maybe you should take more.” Reagan watches me, silently judging when I scrub my itchy nose on the sleeve of my hoodie.
I roll my eyes at her, feet crunching on the gravel as we head toward the trio of buildings in the dark. Manic Manor has been around as long as I can remember, though it’s grown from one haunt to four in the past ten years or so. “Warehouse and manor first?” I ask, guessing from our normal routine that we’re going to do the same thing as usual. "Then the forest?” We tend to skip the smaller house, which is more for kids than adults.
Reagan looks contemplative, tilting her head from one side to the other. She bites her lip, as if this really is some big decision she’s having to make, then says, “Why don’t we mix it up this year? Forest first. Then manor. Then slaughterhouse?” She raises her eyebrows at me in question.
“Sure.” It’s not like I have much of an opinion. We’re here to do all three, so as long as that happens, I’m just along for the ride. “Why the change this year? Normally you like your routine even more than me.”
“I’m feeling frisky . ” She puts a dramatic bounce in her step and I sniffle as I watch her, wishing I could breathe normally.
My eyes flick around the open courtyard, first toward the line to the ticket booth and then toward the hot chocolate stand. It’s cold tonight, colder than it has been lately, and I blame the weather for my snotty nose and congested sinuses. “Okay, frisky . Could you grab our tickets? I’m going to go blow my nose.”
If I don’t, I worry it’ll start dripping mid haunted forest, and I can’t think of anything more embarrassing than getting startled by a man in a mask with snot running down my face. Reagan agrees with a salute and I quickly walk toward the other side of the open yard to the hot chocolate stand. One of the girls looks up at me, and I hesitate, feeling suddenly guilty for just coming over here to swipe napkins.
“Just one, please?” I request, fishing around in my pockets for my wallet. “Extra marshmallows?”
“Two, actually.” The smooth, amused voice startles me just as a hand appears at my side, handing the girl a twenty. “And you can keep the change.”
I don’t need to turn to know who’s here. The girl stares up at Cassian, a small, nervous red tint in her cheeks as she meets his eyes. “Yeah. Umm. Absolutely. Did you want extra marshmallows too?”
“Sure.” I can feel Cassian’s body heat against me even as I grab a stack of napkins and stuff them into the pocket of my hoodie. I busy myself with being as unattractive as possible, my nose sounding like a goose’s call as I blow it into one of the napkins.
“Cute.” Cass gently pushes my hair behind my ear, his hand resting at the back of my neck. “Is that your mating call?”
“Yeah. The boys are going to start flocking around me any moment now.” I look up at him so he can see the dramatic roll of my eyes. “Thank you.” Mama raised me to be polite, after all. And he did just buy me hot chocolate.
“Anytime.” His warm hand stays on my neck and I can’t find it in me to shove him away. How can I, when the warmth is welcome and he’s…
Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? I struggle to make the right decisions when it comes to Cass.
“You’re nicer than you were when we were kids.” I don't know where the words come from, but they prompt the blue-eyed man to look down at me, surprise evident on his face.
“Am I?” He blinks, like I’ve surprised him. “Are you sure?”
“Well, you haven’t, ya know.” I make a ridiculous stabbing motion with my hand that has Cass raising his brows and tilting his head to the side in disbelief. “Sorry, did you want the sound effect, too?” I make the back-and-forth knife motion again, this time adding a few creaky, congested squeaks along with it.
He snorts, shaking his head. I see him roll his eyes just as he murmurs, “You’re ridiculous, princess. And I’m not that nice.”
“You haven’t given me the look this year, either.” I can't help but keep going, even when he throws a sidelong glance my way that looks a little less amused and a little more exasperated. “You know. It’s—” My grin widens when he turns to look at me fully. “Oh yes, there it is. That one, where you do that thing with your mouth.”
“Winnie.” Cass steps closer, my name a warning on his lips. I fight not to shiver even as I sniffle, my eyes on his. “I’m going to need you to knock it off. This place is a bit too crowded for me to give you the attention you’re asking for. And you look a little too pathetic for me to feel good about it.”
“What attention am I asking for, exactly?” God, I really just can’t help myself.
Cass’s eyes narrow and my breath catches in my throat when his lips part around the words I’m so excited and nervous to hear.
“Here you guys go!” The girl has the worst timing and pulls our attention off of each other. Cass steps toward her, a friendly smile on his face as he takes both cups.
“Thank you.” I take my cup from him and flash the girl a smile. “And thank you for the commitment to the extra marshmallows.” They’re piled onto my hot chocolate and melting into the liquid perfectly.
“Anytime! I hope you guys enjoy Manic Manor tonight!”
We walk away from her as I blow my nose again, closing my eyes at the burn in my nose. “So, did you come here with anyone?” I ask, not turning to look at Cass who’d fallen into step behind me. “The guy you brought to the diner?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Are you ignoring me?” I hadn’t thought he was actually mad at me, but his continued silence makes me rethink that. “Cassian—?” I turn with his name on my lips, only to find that he’s no longer behind me. In fact, as my eyes rove around the open yard, I realize he’s nowhere near at all.
“Okay then.” With a sigh, I bundle up my used tissues and toss them into an overflowing trash can nearby. My feet take me back across the yard and it’s easy to find Reagan standing out with her bright red hair and pink and black hoodie.
“I felt guilty,” I tell her, showing her my cup. “Felt weird to just steal napkins, so I bought a hot chocolate, too.” There’s no need to tell her about Cassian. While she knows the story, she definitely doesn’t know that he’s back and has been giving me a lot more attention than I’d expected.
And he’s making me feel incredibly conflicted this Halloween season. It’s…strange.
“Who was the guy with you?” She hands me a ticket, then shoves the other in her pocket. “Did you know him?”
It only takes me a moment to decide I’m going to lie to her. “He’s come to the diner a few times. We went to high school together, but he moved away pretty soon after.” The lie rolls off my tongue smoothly, and Reagan barely glances at me. There’s certainly no suspicion in her eyes, and I relax when I realize she’s bought my story.
Though she has no reason not to.
Who in the world would believe that I’d voluntarily talk to Cassian Byers or let him get near me? It’s much easier to tell her he’s just a friend from when I was younger and leave it as that.
“I didn’t think you talked to anyone from high school.” Reagan snorts, gesturing for us to head to the line for the haunted forest part of Manic Manor. “Except me, because you could never abandon me.”
“Because you’d never let me abandon you,” I amend, blowing my nose again before taking a large mouthful of marshmallow and hot chocolate. Though, it’s mostly marshmallow.
Reagan tips her head to the side thoughtfully. “Yeah,” she agrees. “I can agree with that. But come on, Winnie.” She slings an arm over my shoulders as we get closer to the front of the line. “You’re my best friend. No way I’d ever let you forget about me.”
“That sounds like a threat, you weirdo.” I shove at her arm, though I’m grinning when I meet her eyes.
“Oh, it’s such a threat. Where’s your ticket? Don’t tell me you’ve lost it already.” She glances up at the masked man holding his hand out for the tickets, and I dig in my pocket with a scowl.
“No, I didn’t lose it.” I hand it over to him and he scans it with his eyes and a small flashlight before handing it back to me. “I’m not that bad.”
“Uh, yeah. You really are.” Reagan is nearly vibrating with excitement as she drags me down the start of the trail, as screams echo through the trees in the distance.
It takes until we’re done with the trail for the decongestants to finally kick in. By now, my nose is sore as hell and I can’t breathe out of my right nostril, predictably, and I would sort of rather be at home under a blanket than out in the cold for another hour or so.
But I don’t want to ruin Reagan’s night. She’s extra chatty tonight and hangs onto my arm while we both giggle at the scares in the woods. Neither of us have ever been particularly afraid of haunted attractions like this, but they still make my heart race whenever someone catches me off guard.
“What’s the theme of the manor this year?” I ask, gazing up at the three-story, renovated farmhouse that’s way bigger than it needs to be. Beside it sits the large barn that’s been converted into a slaughterhouse, and I can hear the rev of a chainsaw from inside.
Honestly, out of all the things here, the slaughterhouse is the only part that sometimes unnerves me. It takes a moment for me to realize Reagan hasn’t replied as we fall into place at the back of the manor line. My brows furrow and I turn to her, surprised to see her looking conflicted with her teeth digging into her bottom lip hard enough to look painful.
“Reagan?” I nudge her as she slips her arm free of mine. “You good?”
She looks up at me, her face morphing into a smile. “I’m good,” she says finally, then tugs on my sleeve lightly. “Hey, let’s do the slaughterhouse first, yeah?” She gestures to the drastically shorter line than the one we’re in. “I’m impatient.”
“Whatever you want.” I let her drag me to the other side of the path, and we catch a spot just behind a large group that filters into the slaughterhouse door in front of us, leaving us alone in the line. The man letting people in moves to stand in front of us, breathing heavily behind his white mask.
Shivering, I gaze up at him with an unimpressed tilt of my head…at least until the chainsaw revs from just inside the door and two girls from the group in front of us scream. I can’t help but flinch, which drags a snicker out of Reagan at my side.
“They’re going to have fun with you, aren’t they? You’re jumpy as hell,” the large, broad man murmurs in a deep, rumbling voice.
“I’m not that bad,” I argue. My teeth chatter from the falling temperature, and I wish I had another cup of hot chocolate to take into the slaughterhouse with me, if only to warm my hands and my insides. The man doesn’t reply. He just watches me, and I jump when another actor brushes past me with a low hiss in my ear.
Reagan giggles at that, and latches onto my arm. “You are such a baby tonight.”
I have a reply on my tongue when the man’s walkie talkie goes off, and he steps to the side with a nod. “Looks like you’re the only two,” he murmurs. “Sucks for your jumpy friend.”
“Not jumpy,” I insist, even as Reagan tugs me to the entrance of the slaughterhouse in front of us. But it is a little eerie. I wouldn’t have minded being part of a larger group like normal, instead of only us two as we head through the doors into the dark room beyond.
I hear the rev of the chainsaw before I see it, and Reagan laughs at me once more when I stumble away from the man in a bloody apron who lunges toward us, weapon raised.
“Shit,” I hiss, grabbing her hand. “Maybe I really am a baby tonight.” Without meaning to, I speed up, my steps taking us away from the man who prowls at the entrance.
“Such a baby.” Reagan matches my steps, and she’s the one that drags me past the butcher who gets in my face with a rotating, circular saw as he talks about all the ways he could chop me up.
Maybe next year I’ll ask Reagan if we can skip the slaughterhouse. It really does scare me more than the other haunts here…or anywhere, really. And while that might be the point, I suppose, it also makes me feel constantly on edge.
Which is a feeling I don’t really enjoy, ever since existing this way twenty-four-seven as a kid with an abusive parent.
The thought puts me in a slightly poor mood, though I try not to let Reagan notice as we wind down the hallways and past more rooms. When the slaughterhouse path opens up into a large, chilly area where bodies hang from hooks, I slow down to look around.
“This is new. Wasn’t this under renovation last year?” I ask Reagan, who disentangles herself from me to walk over and look at one of the dripping, bloody torsos.
“Damn. This is cool.” She reaches out to poke it, staining her fingers red. “And yeah. I guess this is what they were doing?” She turns to look at me, her face falling in surprise. Before I can answer, there’s a loud crash. A man slams through the room, naturally holding a chainsaw, and sends the fake bodies swinging erratically.
I stumble away, hitting one of the props and tripping over the uneven floor under me with a shocked yelp. My knees slam against the concrete, pulling a curse from my lips, and I move to sit back on my ass. “Fuck!” I groan. “Fuuuck that hurt.” My knees sting, and I’m sure I’m going to have at least one bruise, if not more.
“You okay?” The man sets the chainsaw on the floor and kneels down in front of me, mask pulled up to show a concerned, sweaty face. “I didn’t mean to make you fall.” He offers me a nervous smile, hand outstretched for me.
“No, it’s totally my bad.” Gratefully, I take his hand and lurch to my feet. Looking around, I search for Reagan, who I’m sure is laughing her ass off at me from nearby.
Except…she isn’t.
Thanking the man again, I walk through the room, dodging around prop bodies and ignoring the screaming actor covered in blood in the corner. “Reagan?” My voice carries in the space, and I step through the black tarps hung up in the doorway leading to the hall beyond. “Where the hell did you go?” It’s not like her to leave me and skip ahead. Normally, she likes cackling at my reactions more than that.
Another actor prowls out in the hallway in front of me, and for a moment I think it’s Reagan. At least, until I see the grinning red mask the person wears and the knife held in their hand.
“Yeah, sorry, friend,” I murmur, distracted. “But I really don’t have time to be threatened.” Barely sparing them a glance, I walk down the hallway, moving to one side to pass the person as they stand in the middle of the walkway. “You’re a little off theme, don’t you think?” I ask absently.
The actor moves, and I jerk to the side just as they grab my wrist to yank me back into the hallway and out of my path toward the door. I spin around, eyes narrowed in frustration. “Can you not?” I demand. “Seriously, I’m looking for?—”
The knife flashes in the strobe light from above us, seeming to move in strange, quick movements between us. But I don’t realize what’s happening at first. At least, not until I feel pain bloom in my arm and a yelp of surprise has already escaped my mouth.
“You…” I look down at my arm outstretched between us and the blood welling up to the surface of my skin. “You’re…” I look up and step back, my arm falling to my side when the person lets go. They tilt their head at me, running gloved fingers up the knife.
I’m frozen in place while blood trickles to the tips of my fingers and drips to the floor below. The person steps toward me, knife coming up seemingly in slow motion, and that’s what snaps me out of my stupor.
I pivot on my foot and run, not knowing or caring where I’m going in the slaughterhouse as long as it’s away from here.