God, I always loved this time of year, but this uncertainty and uneasiness—it’s different this year. I’m just not feeling it. I’m sure it has to do with the whole thing with Jonathan.
Fucking Jonathan.
He’s going to be furious about what I said in front of Marissa. But I wasn’t lying. He stood outside my door for fifteen minutes that night, waiting for me to let him in.
I didn’t. If he thinks I’m not the one, I won’t allow myself to be his number two either.
I follow a stone pathway along the perimeter of the chateau until the scenery becomes familiar, matching the view from my window. A black cat with bright yellow eyes sits at the entrance to the gardens, watching me.
Maybe it’s Agatha’sfamiliar. She certainly dresses like an 18thcentury witch.
Maybe I just need to sleep. Hayes had the right idea. I look up toward the window of my room and sigh.
The curtains suddenly flit open, as if someone is peeking out, then settle back into place.What the hell? Who’s in my room?I break into a jog, rounding the front of the building, the sound of my boots crunching on the gravel path unnervingly loud. I rush through the front entrance and take the spiral stairs two at a time. My hands shake as I fumble with the keycard, finally sliding it into the lock. I listen for the click and shove the door open.
Inside my room, an unsettling emptiness greets me. I close the door behind me, trying to catch my breath. Everything is where I left it—except now there’s a single black rose on the bedside table. Its velvety petals are unnervingly pristine, and perched delicately atop them is a small white stone carved into a grotesque skull.The stark contrast of the macabre adornment sends an icy tingle racing up my back.
My pulse quickens as I step closer to the table. Beside the rose is a note, scrawled on the hotel’s blood-splattered stationary, the fake blood looking almost too real under the dim light.
I hope you like the gift I left you.
A wave of panic crashes over me. Lyle. It has to be Lyle. This is too much—why would he do this? Is he trying to scare me? Is he dangerous? My hands tremble as I fumble for my phone, fingers shaking uncontrollably. I hastily type a message to Tessa, my heart hammering as I hit send.
Me: Someone left a black rose and a skull stone in my room. There’s a note too. Get here now.
I stare at the message, willing Tessa to respond quickly. The room feels colder, the silence pressing in on me, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not alone.
Chapter
Eight
Time drags, each second stretching into an eternity. I pace the room, my mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion. My eyes dart to every shadow, every corner, expecting something—or someone—to emerge.What is Lyle playing at?
Finally, after what feels like hours, there’s a soft knock on my door. My room door has no peephole like the others do, so I can’t see who it is. I quietly slide the chain lock across and crack the door open just an inch. Tessa’s face appears, her eyes bright with excitement.
“Hurry,” she giggles, “let me in.”
I stare at her through the gap, wondering why the fuck she’s giggling right now.
“Look what I brought,” she says, still giggling, pulling a small plastic bag of ghost-shaped edibles from her back pocket. She waves them in the air, shimmying her hips. “I’m not sharing with the guys. They don’t deserve them,” she adds breathlessly as I unlock the door and let her inside.
She rushes in and immediately shoves one in my face, smashing it up against my lips. “Open up. You need to calm down.” I oblige, figuring she just might be right.
“Is that the…” she starts, her gaze landing on the black rose. She trails off, picking it up with a curious expression. I nod quickly.
“What do you think?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
She lets out a long sigh and settles herself on the couch in the sitting area of the room, crisscross-applesauce. I sit next to her, folding my legs underneath me. She places the skull-faced stone between us.
“I don’t really know how to say this,” she begins, popping two edibles in her mouth.
“Just spit it out.”
“Look, it’s just that all this creepy, scary stuff is supposed to be what’s happening, and I think Jonathan being here with Marissa is just making you a little off kilter.”
“You think that security guard, Lyle, is supposed to come in my room when I’m not here and leave me skull-faced flowers?” I ask, incredulous.
“Um, yes,” she replies, deadpan. “I showed you the brochure. This is like a…” she uses air quotes as she talks, “‘haunted house you can stay in to immerse yourself in the Halloween experience.’ It says so right in the brochure.” She pulls the brochure out from the back pocket of her jeans and hands it to me.
