Arms flailing, voice shrill, I run in the opposite direction and get the fuck out of dodge. Those three are on their own, god rest their souls.
Cobwebs tangle in my hair, and something slimy touches my cheek as I run back in the direction we came from. Or so I thought. My bearings are off.
Spinning in a frantic circle, I spy an open doorway. I sprint through it, slam the door shut, and suck in air until my wheezing stops.
I take stock of my surroundings—or lack thereof. It’s pitch black, darker than it was outside. Pivoting on my heel, I go to retrace my steps when my face smashes into a hard surface.
Someone grips my shoulders.
“No! Be gone, evil spirit!” I cry and swat blindly, smacking against a firm chest. “The power of Christ compels you!”
“What the fuck?” a deep male voice grunts. Large hands encircle my wrists, stopping my assault. “Are you performing an exorcism?”
I shove him away. “You attacked me.”
“Youattackedme,” the man parrots. “I was standing here, minding my own business.”
Heart rate more of a steady canter now, I jerk out of his hold, squinting to see if he’s wearing a costume. Instead, I find he’s a blob of shadows, a tall silhouette barely visible.
“Do you work here?”
“No.” His answer is curt.
“Then why the fuck are you lurking in the shadows?”
He doesn’t make a peep.
“Are you still there?” I reach out and squeak when my hand brushes what I hope is his beard. “Oh. Sorry.”
More silence.
To check he can’t see, I wave my middle finger in his direction. Nothing.
“Um, so, I’m going to go.” I slowly retreat, fumbling for the door handle. I grip the cold metal, twist, and pull.
It doesn’t budge.
I try again with more force—still no joy.
There’s an exasperated huff behind me. “Good luck. That door was our only way out, and you just locked us inside.”
THREE
WARREN
This ishow I’m rewarded for being a supportive brother: locked in a haunted house with a woman fixing to bathe me in holy water.
I’m not usually one to cave to peer pressure, but when all the other guys bought their tickets, the last thing I wanted was to be the grumpy asshole refusing to have fun.
Not that I’m having any.
It smells like a frat house, the floors are sticky, and it’s too fucking loud. When some punk tried to get the drop on me halfway, I took my chances and snuck off somewhere quiet. I’d spotted the one-way lock on the outside of the storeroom before sneaking in here.
My new friend did not.
“What do you mean,our only way out?” Her voice is raspy and soft all at once, honeyed and sharp.
“I mean we’re stuck. The lock is on the outside. Did you not see the bucket propping the door open?”
