Page 45 of Horror and Chill

16

Corwin

I lean against the doorway,watching Garron scroll back through her photos and videos, his thumb pausing over the trackpad every time she moans. He doesn’t look up when I walk in. Doesn’t have to.

“You’re staring again,” he says, like it’s just a fact and not an accusation.

“I’m thinking,” I answer, pushing past him to the shelf where the spare masks sit. Most are old, failed versions, discarded ideas. Too clunky. Too cheap. Too human.

He grunts, not interested. “She’s fine with it. You saw her. She didn’t even try to run.”

“That’s the problem.” My fingers slide over molded plastic and rough leather. “She’s fine with it because you made it too easy.”

His head finally turns. That little smirk of his makes me want to wipe it off his face. “Easy?”

“She’s playing along because you let her.” I pick up a mask and turn it over in my hands, weighing it. “She needs to feelsomething real, Garron. Not that pretend danger you gave her. I want to see if she can stand when her knees want to give out.”

He sits back in his chair, stretching his legs out like he owns the whole room. “You just want to scare her.”

I shrug. “Fear’s honest. You can’t fake it.”

Evander’s sitting in the corner, quiet as always, tapping ash into the tray balanced on his knee. His eyes flick between us, taking everything in without committing to a side. He’s like that, keeps his cards close until he’s ready to play them.

“You’re going to push her too far,” Garron says.

“Or maybe you two didn’t push her far enough,” I shoot back.

We stare each other down. Evander exhales smoke into the space between us, breaking the line like a referee calling time.

“Let him try,” Evander says finally. “If she’s as strong as you think, she’ll handle it. If not…” He shrugs, crushing the cigarette out. “We’ll know.”

That’s all the permission I need.

I take the blank mask down from the shelf. No smooth lines this time. I cut into the cheekbones, sharp enough to catch the light. I carve the mouth open just a little wider than it should be, the teeth jagged.

Garron watches, but he doesn’t say anything else. Maybe he’s curious. Maybe he’s waiting for me to fail.

The mask takes shape in my hands. Not pretty. Not inviting. The kind of face you see in a nightmare, right before the lights go out. I paint the inside of the mouth dark, so it’s a shadow when I breathe. The eyes stay hollow.

When I’m done, I hold it up to my face and look in the mirror. No softness. No charm. Just the shape of something that doesn’t ask…it takes.

Perfect.

I don’t need Garron’s permission for this. I don’t need Evander’s either. This is my turn.

I’ve been sitting on the plan for weeks, waiting for the right moment. Tonight, it falls into place. One borrowed key, one cloned number, one short text from her friend Kira that gets her where I want her.

Me: Meet me at the shop. Need your help. Urgent.

Garron and Evander trail her from the house while I wait in the dark. They text when she’s parked and walking the strip. Through the front window, I see her moving under the streetlights, her hair catching the glow, Crocs hitting the sidewalk like she owns it.

The bell above the shop door gives a dull jingle when she pushes it open. She steps inside, pausing just over the threshold. Her eyes adjust to the dark.

“Kira?” she calls out.

Her voice is careful at first. Then sharper.

“Kira, are you here?”