Page 54 of Vile Pucker

The lit Jack O’Lanterns all along the long windy drive cast beautiful golden circles, flickering into the darkness beyond.

Really impressive how many people had come out to Ashgrove Manor, even with all the talk of a serial killer.

A group of 5 or 6 college girls came giggling down the pathway, probably the last trick or treaters of the night.

“We heard this was Gabriel Descoteaux’s house,” an Alice in Wonderland in a pretty blue dress said.

“Yeah, is he here?” another one asked, jabbing her Little Bo-Peep crook in the air.

“Sorry, he’s not here right now,” I said, handing them massive handfuls of full-sized chocolate bars and organic local cookies.

I guess that explained the amount of visitors, I thought. Everyone wanted to see Gabriel.

Smiling slightly, my hand unconsciously went to my belly.

As if I could already feel the baby move.

But that was way too early. Why was I feeling so sentimental?

I didn’t think anyone else was going to come tonight, so I should probably turn off some of these lanterns and go inside.

If I wasn’t caught sitting down in whatever seat Branby found for me, I’d be in trouble.

But as the college girls stumbled drunkenly down the path, I saw a tall, lean figure emerge from the shadows and begin to follow them.

Shit

I turned around to warn Branby, but for once I didn’t see him. Where the fuck was he and why was it taking so long to find a chair?

Biting my lip, I looked down the windy driveway just as they disappeared beyond a bend.

They were going off the path to detour by the graveyard.

Maybe I had mistaken it? Maybe it had been a trick of the light.

But no.

The nearest Jack O’Lantern suddenly tumbled over as I saw the shadowy figure pass by.

I only had a few seconds to decide what to do, and I instantly headed down the front steps in pursuit.

The grounds of Ashgrove Manor seemed to pull at me as I followed. There was heavy wickedness in this earth somewhere, like something here didn’t want me to save these women.

As I followed, I had to pick my way carefully through the uneven ground, pitted with stones, and I realized I was on the outskirts of the graveyard.

There was a creak somewhere ahead of me and I hastened forward, following the giggling and laughter of the women as they lounged over the massive headstones.

The wind caught at me, branches scraping all along the iron gates.

I couldn’t see the man at all, so I hesitated.

It wasn’t my husband, was it?

No, not tall enough.

Right?

There was one woman lagging behind the rest, drunker than the rest, singing a little song as she patted the marble angel on a gravestone.