Page 1 of The Invite (The Massacre Ball #1)

Nessa

A midlife crisis in your forties is when someone starts over their life.

I am doing it at the ripe age of twenty-six.

Nothing in my life has ever been normal. Skipping two grades made me an anomaly among my peers in school. One moment, I’m breezing through life and then suddenly, my world topples upside down. It pains me too much to think about it. Some truths and memories are better left buried.

Now, I’m forced to move to a strange town and work as a high school English teacher.

As I check the time on my wristwatch—yes, I’m also old-fashioned, apparently—my nerves become frazzled because it’s after midnight. I’m all alone, on a deserted road, with endless forest on both sides, and my cab driver doesn’t seem to be in a hurry.

I open my mouth to ask how far away we are, when he suddenly applies the brakes. My body lurches forward and I smack my forehead on the back of the passenger seat.

“Shit!” I curse in pain.

“I’m so sorry, miss,” the driver hastily apologizes. “Are you all right?”

“What happened?” I calmly ask, massaging my throbbing temple.

“I’m afraid I can’t go farther.”

“Why?” That’s when I squint at the windshield and notice fallen trees on the road blocking our way. Instead of panicking, I simply ask, “Is there another route?”

“No, it’s the only way to your location. You will need to walk the rest of the way.”

Walk? How? Doesn’t he see the huge fucking trees? It’s like somebody sawed them down on purpose and blocked the road.

Just the welcome I needed into Fallthorne.

Does my driver think I have the ability to walk through things or fly?

“How far are we?”

“Ten minutes, max,” he answers, looking at me through the rearview mirror. “Let me go and see if it’s possible for you to get to the other side.”

I am not an athletic person and the last thing I want to do right now is climb over thick fallen tree logs. I’m not dressed for it either.

“No, wait.” I eye the forest on either side of the road. “Is there really no other route or a shortcut?”

“There’s one through the woods that’ll take you directly to your block.”

Ten minutes in a car will take at least thrice the time on foot. I glance at the vast forest, thick with tall trees and leaves fluttering in the soft wind, wondering if it’s safe. What if there are wild animals? Being eaten alive by a predator isn’t on my bucket list.

Perhaps it’s not that deep and the nighttime is making it seem so.

“The path is safe and clear,” my driver says, as if he can hear my thoughts. “The locals take it all the time. If you’re not comfortable, I can take you to a motel and come tomorrow once they clear the road.”

I think of my options and come up short. Either I ask him to take me to a motel, or I can be brave and take the shortcut. It’s already very late, and who knows what kind of motel exists here.

Plus, I have to arrive early at the school and submit the necessary documents.

A bad impression isn’t what I want to make on my first day of work.

It’s a guaranteed way of standing out, which is the last thing I need on my already overstuffed plate.

I also hate giving excuses more than I hate being tardy.

Besides, I have a lower probability of getting attacked by a wild animal than getting assaulted by drunken men at a cheap motel.

“Okay,” I answer, “can you give me the directions?”

“Sure.”

As he recites them, I quickly jot everything down in the notes app on my phone. Afterward, he pulls out my luggage, which is thankfully just one cheap trolley bag.

“I’m really sorry I can’t take you far,” he mutters.

“It’s okay. Not your fault.”

Paying him, I exit the cab and watch the taillights of his car disappear.

Crickets and insects chirping echo in the air while moonlight illuminates the gloomy and star-studded sky. Instead of standing like a fool with a neon sign to be kidnapped or mugged painted on my forehead, I quickly drag my suitcase and enter the woods.

Autumn leaves and fallen twigs crunch under my boots while random tree branches and short bushes slap my arms and legs. I’m going to look like a feral cat owner with these scratch marks all over me.

I hiss when one tears into my black stockings. Weird smells and the scent of wet earth tickle my nose, bringing with them nostalgia.

With one hand, I protect my face and quicken my pace. I stay alert and listen for threatening sounds that may be alarming to my well-being. I don’t think I’ll relax until I’ve reached my new home safely.

New home? More like a gilded cage.

The deeper I go, the more uneven the ground becomes until it takes half my strength to haul my bag.

Pulling up my phone, I check I’m going in the correct direction.

Taking my eyes off the path is a big mistake because I miss the huge rock too late and it smacks into my suitcase, sending it skidding into a ditch to my right.

“Ahhh!”

I almost trip over my own feet and my phone with the flashlight on slips out of my grip and thuds to the ground, engulfing me into complete blackness.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Kneeling on the dirty ground, I grab my phone and check for damages. I can’t afford a new one. I sigh in relief when the screen is intact and it lights up.

“Oh, thank Christ,” I mutter to myself.

Rising to my full height, I ignore the sting in my toes from tripping and search next for my suitcase. It contains all the remaining belongings I own to my name, which weren’t snatched from me cruelly.

However, it’s too dark for me to catch sight of it in the thick bushes. Plus, the woods are creeping me out.

Dammit.

I scratch my temple, scrambling for a solution.

A light bulb moment strikes.

I'll come back tomorrow with help and hope nobody steals it until then, not that they’ll hit the jackpot. There's no point waiting here like a sitting duck for slaughter.

With a sad sigh, I continue to hike. As minutes pass, the temperature drops, the air becomes colder, and I regret wearing a skirt and a thin sweater top. The weather here is absurd. As warm as it is during the day, it’s twice as chilly as night.

A stab of fear jolts my system at the sound of a wolf howling in the distance. For all I know, it could be a dog crying and my brain is confusing it with a feral animal.

Why are these small towns always surrounded by thick forests?

Is it, like, a requirement?

It wouldn’t be a spooky and scenic town if there aren’t miles of woods bordering it.

The random musings vanish when I glimpse a clearing in the distance. I must be close. Marching faster, I become excited to be out of here and the prospect of soon finding a comforting bed. I’ve been traveling since morning, I’m exhausted.

The closer I go, the clearer I can see the street lined with the houses and the smooth road lit up with streetlights.

I fall into a jog, but just as I’m within touching distance, I skid to a halt at the menacing sight of two tall figures entering the woods.

One is bare-chested, showing off the lethal muscles of his torso and holding a long and thick metal chain, while the second is in a fitted black tee with full sleeves and jeans, concealing every inch of his skin.

Both have their faces hidden behind black ski masks with only their eyes visible.

I wouldn’t have seen them in the shadows if they had shown up a second earlier. They blend in with the darkness like it bows down to them.

Like they’re one and the same.

Obviously, they aren’t here with innocent intentions or for a midnight stroll. One is literally gripping a chain as a weapon. It drags on the ground behind him.

This has to be some sort of a cosmic joke.

Although, I should’ve suspected I’d stumble on this sooner rather than later.

I’m in the heart of the masked men’s world.

In fact, this town is one of the most well-known attractions that draws a large, equally batshit crazy crowd on the night of The Massacre Ball.

The most heart-pounding carnival of the century.

A blend of haunted house and glamorous fair.

Since the ball is over than a month away, I don’t know why these two are here. Frightened and frazzled, I step backward and accidentally step on a twig.

Their heads snap in my direction.

I dive behind a tree and cower, my heart thumping faster in fear. Praying with all my might that they don’t see me. Some ingrained habits never leave and tonight, they come in handy as I take slow and measured breaths without making a sound.

Listening for their footsteps, I ponder a secure way out of here.

It’s a matter of a few feet, I can’t fuck it up.

Just run as fast as you can, Ness.

A knot forms in my belly as I cautiously rise to my feet, count to five, and dash toward the street.

In my peripheral, I catch the swirl of the chain whipping in the air a second before it wraps around my waist and yanks me backward. My ankle twists and I wait for the earth to crash into my back. Instead, I collide with a hard chest that knocks the wind out of my lungs.

“Why do they all always run?” an utterly gravelly voice says mockingly to his partner. “Then cry when they get caught. It’s getting repetitive and boring.”

Acting on instinct, I aim for his gut and thrust my elbow backward.

It never makes contact.

“Especially the fighting back part.” He croons low in my ear, curling his fingers around my upper arm in a vise-like hold. Spinning me around, the chain wrapped right underneath my breasts tightens, short of breaking my ribs, as he grabs my throat threateningly.

I squeak weakly, unable to reach for his wrist with my arms trapped underneath the metal chain. I’m at his mercy. Paralyzing fear grips every inch of my body.

Don’t panic.

They’re toying with you.

My captor’s masked face tilts to the side and I’m weirdly drawn to his sinister coal-black eyes. Every woman has a sixth sense. A gut feeling. Mine screams he’s a fearsome monster, out to hunt at a ghastly hour.

I remain motionless with my face impassive.

Predators look for weaknesses.

For terror in their victims’ eyes.

No matter what, they never show mercy.