The King of Halloween, page 2
“Oh. Should I not have asked? I just heard that I had to check out your Halloween masks. They said they’re amazing.”
Smiling, Adam flung back the curtain and stepped inside. As he flipped the light, he said, “No. They’re the best.”
To the unprepared eye, the entire back wall was something out of a serial killer’s wet dream. It was divided into a grid of six rows and eight columns with square shelves to hold his most precious. Each alcove was painted in faux stone with flickering lights to mimic the fat, dribbling candles in a castle dungeon. But what made Adam smile and Raj’s breath catch were the heads inside.
Skin the color of putrified flesh, eyes sewn shut, lips dangling as if a breeze could tear them off—he had the kind of zombies that would haunt Romero’s nightmares. Bears, foxes, wolves, raccoons—an entire forest of animals gazed glass-eyed from the third row. Their fur and latex flesh were so lifelike, half the time Adam expected to hear a howl or roar from their cells.
But Adam’s raison d'être were the masks in the two top rows. Eldritch horrors plucked from the edge of space, underwater demons lurking in depths unimaginable to the human psyche, monsters without eyes, lips, noses—or ones with far too many. Tentacles bobbed off of the squid-like monster’s heads with such a glistening sheen it was easy to think they’d just been plucked from the water. In the center was his pride and joy—a mask that looked exactly like flesh flayed from numerous people and knitted back together to form the head of the modern Prometheus. Most striking were the hints of red muscle below where the stitches didn’t quite take.
Those were the masks that people whispered about. The ones they’d clamor to get a glimpse of come every October first. Guaranteed to win any costume contest and scare the soul out of passersby on the trick or treating route.
There were also clown masks on the bottom row.
“What do you think?” Adam asked, folding his arms across his chest.
Raj stumbled forward as if being beckoned by demonic latex. “They’re… I’ve never seen anything like this.” He reached for the chameleon mask. It didn’t look like the lizard, but—thanks to a mix of shiny paints, crystals, and glass—it gave the illusion it was always blending in with the background.
“And you never will,” Adam said.
His voice must have been enough to jerk Raj from his spell. He dropped his hands before he touched the mask, then bundled them behind his back. Adam could understand the feeling. It was also why he made sure to keep the masks behind glass when they were on sale.
Walking forward, Adam smiled. “They’re all one of a kind, created by a demented mad genius who’s isolated from society. Every year, they make a new set, unlike anything they’ve done before. And—” He reached in past Raj to pick up the styrofoam head displaying the chameleon mask. ”—I’m required by contract to destroy whatever doesn’t sell.”
“That’s…” Raj’s eyes were wild, his mouth hanging open as he leaned closer to inspect the detail on the mask. The flesh had been imprinted with scales while the top of the head was ribbed with a mix of gemstones and resin. He nearly ran his finger across the gleaming alexandrite when he glanced up. “You don’t really destroy them…right?”
“If I want to keep appeasing the artist—” Adam said. “They’re quite…”
“Particular?”
“I’d say madder than a wet hen, but particular works. Here, do you want to try it on?”
“I…should I?”
After patting his fingers with baby powder, Adam slipped his palm under the mask and pulled it off the styrofoam head. “Why not?” Like the incredibly devoted storeowner he was, Adam helped Raj into the mask. And it was not just an excuse for him to stand behind and breathe in his hair.
As Raj placed a steadying hand to the mask’s face, Adam tugged the top over his head. Myrrh and a spicy Turkish resin wafted in the air. Shivers climbed up his back like Nosferatu’s shadow scaling the stairs. “Hmm, you’ll probably want a bald cap to help tame your luscious locks, but this should work for now.”
The tips of black hair tumbled from the back of the mask behind his neck. Even still, as Adam swung around and reached for a mirror, his breath caught. A prism of light beamed across the ceiling as Raj shifted his head. Hidden holographic scales lit up, changing color in a pattern chasing over Raj’s cheeks. The sculpt gave Maleficent cheekbones to the already well-carved man. It was only the eyes that made Adam purse his lips. Oh, they were beautiful—a haunting mix of colors over two bulbous orbs. But they completely hid Raj’s ensnaring ones. No amount of holographic glitter could compete with those.
“Have a look.” Adam passed over the mirror shaped like an apple. As Raj stared at it, Adam leaned back to watch. He always let them try it on, get a feel for the quality, the glitz, the glam before he dropped the boom.
“This is the thinnest latex I’ve ever worn and so detailed. It feels like a second skin,” Raj said.
“The artist uses a secret blend of materials. Even I don’t know exactly what they are, but with this mask you can spend hours dancing the night away and not even break a sweat.”
Raj patted his cheek, causing the colors to shift from an aqua blue to a mysterious purple. “Oh, no worries there. I am awful at dancing, and parties, and people.”
Smiling, Adam leaned in. “You just haven’t been to the right parties.”
Even though the mask hid Raj’s skin, Adam felt the blush burning across his cheeks. Oh, hot teddy bears were one thing—but awkward nerds into scary masks… The universe was testing him.
“How…” Raj’s breath stuttered, and he wafted a hand near his face. “How much?”
Time to rip off that Band-Aid. “Seven hundred and fifty. But, since it’s so early in the season, I’ll take twenty-five off.”
“Seven hundred and twenty-five…” He said it like everyone did when they heard the cost for a one-of-a-kind, never-before-seen masks. These were designed to last a lifetime, and came with the price for it too.
“I understand,” Adam said as Raj tried to worm his way out of the mask. “It’s quite an investment, but these are—”
“I’ll take it,” he cried out, twisting Adam’s tongue into a knot.
“Beg pardon?”
“Oh, and that tiger one. The white one. How much is that?”
“The furred ones are eight hundred. I’m sorry, you want two masks?” Adam stuttered, fairly certain the world was ending.
“Yes. And if you have a bald cap.”
He’s hot, he’s sweet, and he’s loaded.
And he is one hundred percent straight. Probably got a wife and three kids at home, white picket fence, golden retriever.
Well, I may not get laid, but at least I’ll get paid.
“Right away.” Adam rushed back. With care, he took down the tiger mask—a gorgeous one that wasn’t lifelike. Instead, it mimicked a woodcut image of a tiger with thick lines around the edges. When he’d unboxed it, he’d thought that one was destined for the fire. After placing the mask in a special case and tying up the ribbon for carrying, he took the chameleon one.
For a beat, he turned it around in his hands. “I’m almost sad to see it go.”
“Oh…?”
“But am glad that it’s found such a wonderful home.” He boxed that one up, too. “Every purchase comes with a styrofoam display head, a spray to maintain the mask, and a card from the artist explaining their inspiration.” As he slipped the card in place, he gazed at Raj, wishing he could add his number into the box. “I’ll include a bald cap and hair nets free of charge. Come this way.”
With all the grace of a king guiding visiting royalty through his kingdom, Adam led Raj to the counter. Chrissy looked up for a second as he shoved her aside. “What are you…?”
“The good man is buying two masks. I don’t see a reason for him to wait.”
“Whatever.” She walked away, her hands up.
Okay. Adam paused before the register as Raj stepped in front of the counter and smiled. What am I…? Oh, right. Numbers. I can do numbers. They’re an eight and a seven. Just keep pressing them.
As Adam struggled through basic math, Raj peered around the room. The masks may not induce sweating, but Adam felt like a puddle as he tried to remember how to include sales tax. There was a button…
“Is that you?”
“Hmm?”
Raj pointed behind Adam toward the wall. As he swiveled his head, Adam realized what was back there the same second he remembered how to do his job. “Oh. Those old things.” He shrugged a shoulder at the four framed newspaper clippings.
“What’s a King of Halloween?” Raj asked.
“Just something Anoka does. The whole town gets together and votes on who’s the…well, king of Halloween. I’ve had the honor of holding that title for four years in a row.”
“Wow,” Raj said. Is he impressed? Adam caught movement just as Chrissy finished her perfunctory eye roll.
“Fingers crossed I’ll pull off number five. No one’s ever gotten it five years in a row.”
“‘Cause it’s only been a thing for twelve,” Chrissy whispered.
Adam glared at her before he glanced at the total just as Raj handed over his credit card. Even Chrissy paused in her passive-aggressive restocking to watch the numbers going through. As Adam returned the card, he asked, “Will you be going to the parade this afternoon?”
“I hope so,” Raj said.
After tearing off the receipt, Adam added it to the bag, then handed over the masks. “If you do, you’ll see me riding on the biggest float at the back.”
“Really?” Raj held his masks.
Snickering, Adam couldn’t stop a blush as he held his hands up. “I am the King of Halloween.”
“Oh shi—” Two kids rammed into a rack of costumes. Like dominoes, three racks smashed to the floor.
Chrissy bowed and handed him a broom. “Your sword, your majesty.”
CHAPTER TWO
“MR. STEIN?”
“I’m here. I’m here!” All knees and elbows, Adam dashed through the crowd mingling near the final and therefore best float. A few of the tourists had found the parade staging area and tried to take selfies while posing in front of the throne at the top of the castle.
Marianne Getty, the woman in charge of the parade and the community activities from spring until winter, tapped her clipboard. “Where’s your costume?”
“I’ve got it on.” Adam stuffed the last of his arm down the hole, then slid up the jacket. It was rather trim even on him, with dramatic tails that’d been distressed for extra creepiness. A debonair, Victorian jacket over his black and white striped vest, and the tie gave off the perfect vibes for the King of Halloween.
She stared long at him. “You’ve forgotten your head.”
“Oh.” Adam tapped his forehead as if that’d make the massive papier mâché pumpkin appear. “Well, I could always go without this year. Not as if people don’t know who their Halloween—”
Marianne stuck two fingers in her mouth and gave a fast, sharp whistle. One of her minions scurried over. “Find Mr. Stein his head before more roll.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Rhythmic drumming kicked up far in the distance, and the floats revved their engines. “Starting already?” Adam asked and pretended to look at the watch he didn’t have.
“Yes, Mr. Stein. Nearly fifteen minutes late.”
“I’m sorry, but there was this kid who knocked over the entire line of fantasy and western costumes. We nearly had a genre crossover of epic proportions.” He threw on his biggest smile and tried to elbow Marianne.
“Get on your chair.”
Adam waved to tell her he was going. But as he climbed past the wooden cutouts of a Frankenstein castle silhouetted by lightning and mobs of angry villagers, he couldn’t stop himself. “When it’s lined with red velvet, has padded armrests and a golden back, I believe it’s called a throne.”
“That’s gold spray paint, and the velvet’s from our old Santa costume after the Rudolph incident.”
“Ah.” Adam peered closer and spotted a reindeer hoof print embedded onto the back. “So it was. Well, that only adds to the spookiness.”
Horns blared, and the local marching band started playing Night on Bald Mountain. From his perch, Adam was able to make out the feathers on their hats swaying in the wind. The parade was on its way. So he was a little tardy, but he was here and ready to put in his jolly wave. Three bags of candy circled his legs.
While it made sense for the King of Halloween to throw out treats to all the good girls and boys, did it have to be fruit tootsie rolls? Adam stared at the blueberry one with minor distaste when he caught Marianne talking into her headset with all the excitement she never saved for him.
“Don’t tell me someone’s even later than me,” Adam called down to her.
“Yes, just have him pull out when I say,” Marianne ordered. “No, it’s fine. He’s always slow.” She stared him dead in the eye and repeated, “Always.” Then she swung up her little headset and crossed her arms.
Flopping back into his throne, Adam tried to act like his ass wasn’t on fire with curiosity. But after crossing his legs with the right over the top, then the left, then hunched back in the chair, the silence broke. “What was that all about?”
“Just a new float,” she said with far too much disinterest.
If it was a truck from the dealership or the hardware store pulling a flatbed, she’d have said as much. The less information she gave, the greater the secret. Adam didn’t just take the bait; the hook was lodged in his brain.
“And who exactly is piloting this new float?”
“Someone new. Way I hear it, he bought the old Hart Hotel and is going to turn it into a haunted house.”
Adam laughed hard at the idea. “A haunted house? Anoka hasn’t had a haunted house in… Oh god, how old am I? Thirty-something years?” Every few seasons, there was a rumbling that so-and-so was going to buy up an abandoned warehouse and put a haunt in there. The town rallied, excited to add yet another Halloween activity to the mix. Then the permits fell through, the money ended, the building collapsed, and they were once again hauntless on Halloween.
“Sounds like he’s really gung-ho about it,” Marianne said.
“Mrs. Getty,” her minion shouted from the crowd. A massive orange sphere weaved above heads until the poor, panting girl damn near collapsed at Marianne’s feet. “I’ve got it.”
“Good. Now give it to him.”
Adam climbed down to meet her. As he did, he caught Marianne’s eye. “So was Curly, and we all know how that haunted hayride through ankle-high corn went.”
“You don’t think it’ll happen?” she asked.
“Of course not.” Adam started to laugh when twenty pounds of orange cardboard and paint plopped over his head. He tried to peer through the nostrils but could only get one eye out. “I’d stake my crown on it.”
“Get to your seat, Pumpkin King,” Marianne said. She swung down her headset and ordered the next float off.
“Whoa!” Adam fell back onto the plywood throne. He clung to the fake pumpkin three times the size of his head lest first it, then he, tumbled to the pavement.
It might be cheesy, and a little cheap in the sunlight, but he was their king, and Halloween was the best time of year.
With one hand on his jack o’lantern cheek, Adam gave a queenly wave to the crowd and cried out, “Happy Halloween!” His voice echoed so loudly inside the pumpkin, his ears started ringing in under a block.
“Candy! Candy for all!” Adam gave his best demonic laugh, ensuring he’d be deaf for the rest of the day, but the kids ate it up. Probably. It was hard for him to see with only one eye managing through the triangular slit for a nose.
From what little he could tell, it sounded like the parade was off to another smashing success. Everyone was ecstatic to meet their beloved Halloween king. He was Santa Claus’ svelte and spooky cousin. Only, instead of filling their stocking with toys, he was ensnaring them in a trap of terror and trauma.
Also candy.
It was not Halloween without candy.
With a triumphant flare, Adam swung the entire scoop’s worth out. Fruity tootsie rolls rained down on their heads like pennies from heaven. The children all giggled and raced around the pile on the sidewalk, but one was bold. In the familiar purple and gold windbreaker, he approached the float itself. Greedy fingers at the ready, he reached for the closest bag to steal a stash for himself.
Adam watched it all while acting like he wasn’t. With a wicked grin, he thumbed a button under his throne’s arm. A skeleton’s hand whipped out of the float, and a witch’s cackle burst from the speakers. The would-be candy thief leaped back before the undead could claim his head. As he landed on his feet, a tiny hand clutched to his racing heart, his eyes went wide. But when the float carried on past, he gave out a laugh and raced back to his fellow school children.
That was the joy of Halloween. Fear—yes—but contained, knowable, survivable fear. The scares were to get the blood pumping and tickle right up against the node that causes unending laughter, not induce years of trauma. This was the only time of year when they put their monsters on a pedestal instead of a stake.
The float began to turn, following the curve around their main street statue. As they passed, Adam raised two fingers toward the gilded scarecrow hanging from his perch. “Hello, Stitches,” he greeted it. For a beat, Adam watched, making certain that the downward hat didn’t shift in the wind, or the burlap sack didn’t wink around the sunken eye socket. The statue remained as it always was.
“Whoa!” The ground pitched under him. His pumpkin head flew back, and he slammed a palm to it as the float came to a screeching stop. Marianne walked in front, clipboard out to hold them in place. Then she nodded to the float ahead.
Adam hadn’t thought much of it when it had pulled in. The playhouse out of Chucky’s nightmares on the flatbed was quaint but nothing exactly eye-catching. From his position at the back, he hadn’t been able to make out who was in front of him, not until it turned before the final leg of the parade.
Smiling, Adam flung back the curtain and stepped inside. As he flipped the light, he said, “No. They’re the best.”
To the unprepared eye, the entire back wall was something out of a serial killer’s wet dream. It was divided into a grid of six rows and eight columns with square shelves to hold his most precious. Each alcove was painted in faux stone with flickering lights to mimic the fat, dribbling candles in a castle dungeon. But what made Adam smile and Raj’s breath catch were the heads inside.
Skin the color of putrified flesh, eyes sewn shut, lips dangling as if a breeze could tear them off—he had the kind of zombies that would haunt Romero’s nightmares. Bears, foxes, wolves, raccoons—an entire forest of animals gazed glass-eyed from the third row. Their fur and latex flesh were so lifelike, half the time Adam expected to hear a howl or roar from their cells.
But Adam’s raison d'être were the masks in the two top rows. Eldritch horrors plucked from the edge of space, underwater demons lurking in depths unimaginable to the human psyche, monsters without eyes, lips, noses—or ones with far too many. Tentacles bobbed off of the squid-like monster’s heads with such a glistening sheen it was easy to think they’d just been plucked from the water. In the center was his pride and joy—a mask that looked exactly like flesh flayed from numerous people and knitted back together to form the head of the modern Prometheus. Most striking were the hints of red muscle below where the stitches didn’t quite take.
Those were the masks that people whispered about. The ones they’d clamor to get a glimpse of come every October first. Guaranteed to win any costume contest and scare the soul out of passersby on the trick or treating route.
There were also clown masks on the bottom row.
“What do you think?” Adam asked, folding his arms across his chest.
Raj stumbled forward as if being beckoned by demonic latex. “They’re… I’ve never seen anything like this.” He reached for the chameleon mask. It didn’t look like the lizard, but—thanks to a mix of shiny paints, crystals, and glass—it gave the illusion it was always blending in with the background.
“And you never will,” Adam said.
His voice must have been enough to jerk Raj from his spell. He dropped his hands before he touched the mask, then bundled them behind his back. Adam could understand the feeling. It was also why he made sure to keep the masks behind glass when they were on sale.
Walking forward, Adam smiled. “They’re all one of a kind, created by a demented mad genius who’s isolated from society. Every year, they make a new set, unlike anything they’ve done before. And—” He reached in past Raj to pick up the styrofoam head displaying the chameleon mask. ”—I’m required by contract to destroy whatever doesn’t sell.”
“That’s…” Raj’s eyes were wild, his mouth hanging open as he leaned closer to inspect the detail on the mask. The flesh had been imprinted with scales while the top of the head was ribbed with a mix of gemstones and resin. He nearly ran his finger across the gleaming alexandrite when he glanced up. “You don’t really destroy them…right?”
“If I want to keep appeasing the artist—” Adam said. “They’re quite…”
“Particular?”
“I’d say madder than a wet hen, but particular works. Here, do you want to try it on?”
“I…should I?”
After patting his fingers with baby powder, Adam slipped his palm under the mask and pulled it off the styrofoam head. “Why not?” Like the incredibly devoted storeowner he was, Adam helped Raj into the mask. And it was not just an excuse for him to stand behind and breathe in his hair.
As Raj placed a steadying hand to the mask’s face, Adam tugged the top over his head. Myrrh and a spicy Turkish resin wafted in the air. Shivers climbed up his back like Nosferatu’s shadow scaling the stairs. “Hmm, you’ll probably want a bald cap to help tame your luscious locks, but this should work for now.”
The tips of black hair tumbled from the back of the mask behind his neck. Even still, as Adam swung around and reached for a mirror, his breath caught. A prism of light beamed across the ceiling as Raj shifted his head. Hidden holographic scales lit up, changing color in a pattern chasing over Raj’s cheeks. The sculpt gave Maleficent cheekbones to the already well-carved man. It was only the eyes that made Adam purse his lips. Oh, they were beautiful—a haunting mix of colors over two bulbous orbs. But they completely hid Raj’s ensnaring ones. No amount of holographic glitter could compete with those.
“Have a look.” Adam passed over the mirror shaped like an apple. As Raj stared at it, Adam leaned back to watch. He always let them try it on, get a feel for the quality, the glitz, the glam before he dropped the boom.
“This is the thinnest latex I’ve ever worn and so detailed. It feels like a second skin,” Raj said.
“The artist uses a secret blend of materials. Even I don’t know exactly what they are, but with this mask you can spend hours dancing the night away and not even break a sweat.”
Raj patted his cheek, causing the colors to shift from an aqua blue to a mysterious purple. “Oh, no worries there. I am awful at dancing, and parties, and people.”
Smiling, Adam leaned in. “You just haven’t been to the right parties.”
Even though the mask hid Raj’s skin, Adam felt the blush burning across his cheeks. Oh, hot teddy bears were one thing—but awkward nerds into scary masks… The universe was testing him.
“How…” Raj’s breath stuttered, and he wafted a hand near his face. “How much?”
Time to rip off that Band-Aid. “Seven hundred and fifty. But, since it’s so early in the season, I’ll take twenty-five off.”
“Seven hundred and twenty-five…” He said it like everyone did when they heard the cost for a one-of-a-kind, never-before-seen masks. These were designed to last a lifetime, and came with the price for it too.
“I understand,” Adam said as Raj tried to worm his way out of the mask. “It’s quite an investment, but these are—”
“I’ll take it,” he cried out, twisting Adam’s tongue into a knot.
“Beg pardon?”
“Oh, and that tiger one. The white one. How much is that?”
“The furred ones are eight hundred. I’m sorry, you want two masks?” Adam stuttered, fairly certain the world was ending.
“Yes. And if you have a bald cap.”
He’s hot, he’s sweet, and he’s loaded.
And he is one hundred percent straight. Probably got a wife and three kids at home, white picket fence, golden retriever.
Well, I may not get laid, but at least I’ll get paid.
“Right away.” Adam rushed back. With care, he took down the tiger mask—a gorgeous one that wasn’t lifelike. Instead, it mimicked a woodcut image of a tiger with thick lines around the edges. When he’d unboxed it, he’d thought that one was destined for the fire. After placing the mask in a special case and tying up the ribbon for carrying, he took the chameleon one.
For a beat, he turned it around in his hands. “I’m almost sad to see it go.”
“Oh…?”
“But am glad that it’s found such a wonderful home.” He boxed that one up, too. “Every purchase comes with a styrofoam display head, a spray to maintain the mask, and a card from the artist explaining their inspiration.” As he slipped the card in place, he gazed at Raj, wishing he could add his number into the box. “I’ll include a bald cap and hair nets free of charge. Come this way.”
With all the grace of a king guiding visiting royalty through his kingdom, Adam led Raj to the counter. Chrissy looked up for a second as he shoved her aside. “What are you…?”
“The good man is buying two masks. I don’t see a reason for him to wait.”
“Whatever.” She walked away, her hands up.
Okay. Adam paused before the register as Raj stepped in front of the counter and smiled. What am I…? Oh, right. Numbers. I can do numbers. They’re an eight and a seven. Just keep pressing them.
As Adam struggled through basic math, Raj peered around the room. The masks may not induce sweating, but Adam felt like a puddle as he tried to remember how to include sales tax. There was a button…
“Is that you?”
“Hmm?”
Raj pointed behind Adam toward the wall. As he swiveled his head, Adam realized what was back there the same second he remembered how to do his job. “Oh. Those old things.” He shrugged a shoulder at the four framed newspaper clippings.
“What’s a King of Halloween?” Raj asked.
“Just something Anoka does. The whole town gets together and votes on who’s the…well, king of Halloween. I’ve had the honor of holding that title for four years in a row.”
“Wow,” Raj said. Is he impressed? Adam caught movement just as Chrissy finished her perfunctory eye roll.
“Fingers crossed I’ll pull off number five. No one’s ever gotten it five years in a row.”
“‘Cause it’s only been a thing for twelve,” Chrissy whispered.
Adam glared at her before he glanced at the total just as Raj handed over his credit card. Even Chrissy paused in her passive-aggressive restocking to watch the numbers going through. As Adam returned the card, he asked, “Will you be going to the parade this afternoon?”
“I hope so,” Raj said.
After tearing off the receipt, Adam added it to the bag, then handed over the masks. “If you do, you’ll see me riding on the biggest float at the back.”
“Really?” Raj held his masks.
Snickering, Adam couldn’t stop a blush as he held his hands up. “I am the King of Halloween.”
“Oh shi—” Two kids rammed into a rack of costumes. Like dominoes, three racks smashed to the floor.
Chrissy bowed and handed him a broom. “Your sword, your majesty.”
CHAPTER TWO
“MR. STEIN?”
“I’m here. I’m here!” All knees and elbows, Adam dashed through the crowd mingling near the final and therefore best float. A few of the tourists had found the parade staging area and tried to take selfies while posing in front of the throne at the top of the castle.
Marianne Getty, the woman in charge of the parade and the community activities from spring until winter, tapped her clipboard. “Where’s your costume?”
“I’ve got it on.” Adam stuffed the last of his arm down the hole, then slid up the jacket. It was rather trim even on him, with dramatic tails that’d been distressed for extra creepiness. A debonair, Victorian jacket over his black and white striped vest, and the tie gave off the perfect vibes for the King of Halloween.
She stared long at him. “You’ve forgotten your head.”
“Oh.” Adam tapped his forehead as if that’d make the massive papier mâché pumpkin appear. “Well, I could always go without this year. Not as if people don’t know who their Halloween—”
Marianne stuck two fingers in her mouth and gave a fast, sharp whistle. One of her minions scurried over. “Find Mr. Stein his head before more roll.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Rhythmic drumming kicked up far in the distance, and the floats revved their engines. “Starting already?” Adam asked and pretended to look at the watch he didn’t have.
“Yes, Mr. Stein. Nearly fifteen minutes late.”
“I’m sorry, but there was this kid who knocked over the entire line of fantasy and western costumes. We nearly had a genre crossover of epic proportions.” He threw on his biggest smile and tried to elbow Marianne.
“Get on your chair.”
Adam waved to tell her he was going. But as he climbed past the wooden cutouts of a Frankenstein castle silhouetted by lightning and mobs of angry villagers, he couldn’t stop himself. “When it’s lined with red velvet, has padded armrests and a golden back, I believe it’s called a throne.”
“That’s gold spray paint, and the velvet’s from our old Santa costume after the Rudolph incident.”
“Ah.” Adam peered closer and spotted a reindeer hoof print embedded onto the back. “So it was. Well, that only adds to the spookiness.”
Horns blared, and the local marching band started playing Night on Bald Mountain. From his perch, Adam was able to make out the feathers on their hats swaying in the wind. The parade was on its way. So he was a little tardy, but he was here and ready to put in his jolly wave. Three bags of candy circled his legs.
While it made sense for the King of Halloween to throw out treats to all the good girls and boys, did it have to be fruit tootsie rolls? Adam stared at the blueberry one with minor distaste when he caught Marianne talking into her headset with all the excitement she never saved for him.
“Don’t tell me someone’s even later than me,” Adam called down to her.
“Yes, just have him pull out when I say,” Marianne ordered. “No, it’s fine. He’s always slow.” She stared him dead in the eye and repeated, “Always.” Then she swung up her little headset and crossed her arms.
Flopping back into his throne, Adam tried to act like his ass wasn’t on fire with curiosity. But after crossing his legs with the right over the top, then the left, then hunched back in the chair, the silence broke. “What was that all about?”
“Just a new float,” she said with far too much disinterest.
If it was a truck from the dealership or the hardware store pulling a flatbed, she’d have said as much. The less information she gave, the greater the secret. Adam didn’t just take the bait; the hook was lodged in his brain.
“And who exactly is piloting this new float?”
“Someone new. Way I hear it, he bought the old Hart Hotel and is going to turn it into a haunted house.”
Adam laughed hard at the idea. “A haunted house? Anoka hasn’t had a haunted house in… Oh god, how old am I? Thirty-something years?” Every few seasons, there was a rumbling that so-and-so was going to buy up an abandoned warehouse and put a haunt in there. The town rallied, excited to add yet another Halloween activity to the mix. Then the permits fell through, the money ended, the building collapsed, and they were once again hauntless on Halloween.
“Sounds like he’s really gung-ho about it,” Marianne said.
“Mrs. Getty,” her minion shouted from the crowd. A massive orange sphere weaved above heads until the poor, panting girl damn near collapsed at Marianne’s feet. “I’ve got it.”
“Good. Now give it to him.”
Adam climbed down to meet her. As he did, he caught Marianne’s eye. “So was Curly, and we all know how that haunted hayride through ankle-high corn went.”
“You don’t think it’ll happen?” she asked.
“Of course not.” Adam started to laugh when twenty pounds of orange cardboard and paint plopped over his head. He tried to peer through the nostrils but could only get one eye out. “I’d stake my crown on it.”
“Get to your seat, Pumpkin King,” Marianne said. She swung down her headset and ordered the next float off.
“Whoa!” Adam fell back onto the plywood throne. He clung to the fake pumpkin three times the size of his head lest first it, then he, tumbled to the pavement.
It might be cheesy, and a little cheap in the sunlight, but he was their king, and Halloween was the best time of year.
With one hand on his jack o’lantern cheek, Adam gave a queenly wave to the crowd and cried out, “Happy Halloween!” His voice echoed so loudly inside the pumpkin, his ears started ringing in under a block.
“Candy! Candy for all!” Adam gave his best demonic laugh, ensuring he’d be deaf for the rest of the day, but the kids ate it up. Probably. It was hard for him to see with only one eye managing through the triangular slit for a nose.
From what little he could tell, it sounded like the parade was off to another smashing success. Everyone was ecstatic to meet their beloved Halloween king. He was Santa Claus’ svelte and spooky cousin. Only, instead of filling their stocking with toys, he was ensnaring them in a trap of terror and trauma.
Also candy.
It was not Halloween without candy.
With a triumphant flare, Adam swung the entire scoop’s worth out. Fruity tootsie rolls rained down on their heads like pennies from heaven. The children all giggled and raced around the pile on the sidewalk, but one was bold. In the familiar purple and gold windbreaker, he approached the float itself. Greedy fingers at the ready, he reached for the closest bag to steal a stash for himself.
Adam watched it all while acting like he wasn’t. With a wicked grin, he thumbed a button under his throne’s arm. A skeleton’s hand whipped out of the float, and a witch’s cackle burst from the speakers. The would-be candy thief leaped back before the undead could claim his head. As he landed on his feet, a tiny hand clutched to his racing heart, his eyes went wide. But when the float carried on past, he gave out a laugh and raced back to his fellow school children.
That was the joy of Halloween. Fear—yes—but contained, knowable, survivable fear. The scares were to get the blood pumping and tickle right up against the node that causes unending laughter, not induce years of trauma. This was the only time of year when they put their monsters on a pedestal instead of a stake.
The float began to turn, following the curve around their main street statue. As they passed, Adam raised two fingers toward the gilded scarecrow hanging from his perch. “Hello, Stitches,” he greeted it. For a beat, Adam watched, making certain that the downward hat didn’t shift in the wind, or the burlap sack didn’t wink around the sunken eye socket. The statue remained as it always was.
“Whoa!” The ground pitched under him. His pumpkin head flew back, and he slammed a palm to it as the float came to a screeching stop. Marianne walked in front, clipboard out to hold them in place. Then she nodded to the float ahead.
Adam hadn’t thought much of it when it had pulled in. The playhouse out of Chucky’s nightmares on the flatbed was quaint but nothing exactly eye-catching. From his position at the back, he hadn’t been able to make out who was in front of him, not until it turned before the final leg of the parade.
