I’m too engrossed in what he’s doing, that I don’t notice the menacing presence right behind me.
It starts as a low growl, making the hair on the back of neck stand on end. Eyes wide, I whip around finding nothing but air. That was fucking creepy, I think as I scan the line.
Unease fills my stomach as we inch closer to the ticketing counter. Maybe I’m just imagining things.
“Step right up, have your ID’s ready.” A man dressed as a creepy marionette, with strings attached to the ceiling calls out. Another man with a bushy mustache, a bright red clown nose, and a scar slashed across his face presents us with a waiver.
“Sign here.”
My eyes flick over the terms, seeing a lot of standard contract language, that is until I land on one glaring word. “Death?” I shriek.
“They have to say that to cover their asses.” Callie says, signing her form and handing it back, popping her gum. “Come on. It’ll be fun.” The man checks her ID, and hands it back with an evil cackle that sends a shiver up my spine.
Shayla and Penny hand their forms in, but mine is still clutched tightly in my hands. Tight enough to wrinkle the offensive paper. Surely, no one has died here, right?
Maybe it’s just for people with health conditions, and it’s covering their ass like Callie said.
Nibbling on my bottom lip while I debate, the marionette crouches down until he’s level with my face. “In or out, sweetheart. We’ve got a line full of peopledyingto get in.” His breath smells like cigarettes, and has my nose wrinkling, taking a half step back.
“Fuck it.” I sign my name and hand both my ID and the paper to the mustache man.
He grins, looking down at my ID. As he hands it back to me, his leathery hand brushes against mine. “Have fun,Olivia.” His deep, sinister voice growls just low enough for me to hear.
Shit.
Why do I get the feeling that I’m going to regret this later?
Chapter 3
Phantom
Another Halloween is in full swing, and I’m living for it. Well, living might be a stretch since I’m dead and all. A fucking phantom only here to instill fear and get my kicks from making the living scream bloody murder. It gives my long dead heart a jolt, tethering me to this plane of existence. The crowd’s energy is extra palpable with it being Halloween. My spirit is stronger. Hungrier. Practically salivating at the morsels of fresh meat traipsing around our hallowed grounds in their various costumes. Pretending to be what we really are— monsters.
I’m craving something sweet tonight, and I think I found the perfect little snack. Her blonde curled hair tumbles down her back and her black leggings hug her every curve, making me want to sink my teeth into that tight ass of hers. I bet she screams so pretty.
Sniffing the air, her warm cashmere and cinnamon scent calls to my more base instincts. It’s intoxicating and inviting.
I can barely contain my growl as I pass her in the line waiting to get into our playground. This place houses many lost souls, both alive and dead. All enacting on our monstrous desires and reaping the rewards.
Nightmare Acres is for the dark, the depraved, and the lost.
This girl definitely fits the bill for being the latter. It practically clings to her— how out of place she feels. From my vantage point above, I can take her in without letting her know I’m here watching. Studying. Planning on how I can get her alone.
“What do you think, Matchbox?” I ask my demonic friend who has a penchant for playing with fire. None of us, except for Talon, can remember our real names. So we picked ones that fit our personalities. He fiddles expertly with the lighter, wielding the flames along his fingertips. The light gleams off his golden horns.
“I think tonight tops last year’s Halloween by a mile.” He muses. A distant shriek of terror calls out before being suddenly silenced and a knowing smirk takes over my lips.
Word of mouth is a powerful tool, drawing people to our patch of paradise for them to revel in the darkness. Some never stop, joining our forces or ending up six feet beneath us. It just depends on how fucked up their souls are.
The evil ones rot.
The pure ones escape.
And the twisted, well… the twisted tend to join our ranks or just keep coming back for more.
An itch deep in my soul yearns to be scratched, and I think this vixen of a woman is just the right one for the job.
Jumping down from my perch, I find my prey in the sea of souls just dying to get inside our gates.
