The King of Halloween, page 3
In the crowd on their private platform, sat the mayor and a few council members. They were the deciding vote in the Halloween King race. Sure, they’d pretend that the people had just as much of a say, but Adam knew the truth. The crown went to whoever brought in the most tourist gold that year. If the next thirty-one days went as well as the first, Adam’s record-setting five-year streak was a guarantee.
Thunder rolled from speakers below the flatbed ahead of him. Is there gonna be a show? Interesting. Excited, Adam sat down on his throne and watched. A flicker of lightning zapped across the small house’s black turrets. Then a great roar rose in the air as all of the little gargoyles opened their mouths.
That can’t be an animatronic. They aren’t much bigger than my palm.
A moon hung above the house, and clouds crawled across the yellow sphere, followed by a swarm of bats, and—finally—a witch on her broom gave a good cackle. A loud doorbell went off, nearly peaking the speakers. Intrigued, Adam leaned to the side. He was able to spot the front door of the little house. It was a bit warped, but it looked like it swung open to utter darkness.
The street went quiet, watching a definitely projected trick-or-treater standing in front of the steps—pumpkin bucket waving in anticipation. Adam couldn’t quite make it out from his angle. People were holding their breath, so there must be something good.
Curiosity getting ahold of him, he leaned even farther. A creak rose from the rickety old throne, and two legs lifted off of the platform. It was fine. He had balance and poise.
Ah! A hint of a flicker danced through the little windows like tiny candles appearing then vanishing throughout the house. Small ghosts swirled up and down the tiled roof before a great sparkle hit at the top of the weathervane. Everyone oohed and aahed, delighted by the sudden appearance of projected fireworks.
A scream. Adam jerked in shock. A physical skeleton hand tore through the little doorway and snatched up the projected trick-or-treater. He tried to follow, his brain certain the animatronic grabbed an actual doll. People lost it, hooting and hollering at the display.
Leaning farther out, he craned his neck. The wind caught his pumpkin head, spinning it around. Snarling, he grabbed the flesh and turned it back, catching a glimpse of a light change. The entire house vanished, revealing an ad for some place called the Heartbreak Hotel. Scrim. Adam smiled at not just the use but him figuring out the trick. It sure did delight the people watching, huge applause rising from the crowd.
“Thank you. Thank you.”
A shadow moved from behind the house, hand extended. Adam caught a hint of colors shifting from blue to green in the sunlight.
No. It couldn’t be.
The damn pumpkin head spun again. He let go of the chair in order to slap both hands on it and focus. With his chin planted against the interior, Adam peered through the nose hole. Brown hand waving to the crowd, green on the head. No, purple. No, it’s…
“Thank you for that amazing display!” the mayor called out. “Let’s give a big round of applause for Mr. Chowder.”
“Choudhary.”
It’s him. He…
“Oh, shi—!” The throne collapsed, flinging Adam off his perch. He fell headfirst toward the unforgiving concrete ready to pulp his brains. The pumpkin swung around, hiding his face when he struck. All he knew was darkness, then the sickening sound of broken wood raining down around him.
Quiet gasps were all that surrounded him as he fought to stand. “It’s okay. I’m all right,” he said, doing his best to ignore the stinging on his palms. As he slid back, the pumpkin head fell off. Adam took stock, surprised to not find a huge lump on his head. Then he saw it.
The pumpkin rolled over in the wind. Its grinning face smiled at him. Well, half did. The other side was completely dented inward, giving the once jolly jack o’lantern a pained look of the damned. Hushed silence was all that greeted Adam as he staggered to his feet. A cold breeze cut across his knees, and he looked down to find he’d torn open his pants. Blood dripped down the remaining fabric, and his side ached. As he tried to stretch, the wind caught the head and rolled it away. Chasing after, Adam managed to get a hand on it just as he looked back to find Raj Choudhary in his chameleon mask watching Adam’s great fall.
“Your King of Halloween, everyone!” the mayor called to no applause.
CHAPTER THREE
BENDING CLOSER, RAJ tried to make out his last note in the low light. A small candle on the table revealed he was…scrutinizing his grocery list. Oh, he was out of mustard again.
“That was fantastic.”
The table in the Hardware Store, which was actually a speakeasy bar, shuddered. The squeak of a padded chair sliding back ground on Raj’s teeth, but he didn’t look up until a drink nearly landed on his pages. “Careful.” He tried to protect his work, but a man only laughed.
“What are you doing back here? The celebration’s happening at the bar.” Logan, his business partner in the Heartbreak Hotel haunt and overnight experience, slapped the table for good measure. When Raj didn’t respond, he swung back to look at where a mess of other locals gathered around the main bar.
“The whole committee is up there, along with the council members we need to get on our good side,” Logan chided him. “Go and introduce yourself before they’re too drunk to remember their own names.”
“I will,” Raj said as every fiber of his being cringed. If he wanted to work with people, he wouldn’t have spent a decade and a half hiding in a tiny room making realistic blood splatter across IMAX screens. Why did he think this was a good idea? Just uproot his entire life halfway across the country because he fell down a Wikipedia hole and found the Halloween town of America. Only exciting people would take out all their life savings and invest in a haunted attraction that required rebuilding an abandoned hotel from the twenties.
No one ever called Raj exciting.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to figure out what went wrong with the mechanism.”
“Man, stop stressing. The float was great. Everyone loved it. We’re in.”
“The bats didn’t circle the turrets. There was no thumping under the false floorboards we spent hours getting in. Oh, and the music cues were an entire second off. I’m jotting it all down so I can troubleshoot later.”
“Why?” Logan was the kind of man who didn’t understand the meaning of the word trouble. It wasn’t that he was conceited or vapid. He’d just been blessed with the kind of incredible luck that kept him from suffering true failure. His life was lived on the escalator up. Raj hoped that at least some of that pixie dust would spill onto him.
“I don’t want to forget it.”
“Man, the parade’s over. Well, that one. This town does like five or something. I don’t know.” He slurped up his straw so loudly people pivoted in their encompassing armchairs to watch. Once they caught his sun-kissed locks and electric blue eyes, all was forgiven. Hence, the power of Logan. “We did what we needed to do. We’re good.”
“For this year. But what about next?”
“We’ll fix it then.”
Raj laughed at the idea of leaving a problem. Not for a day or two, but an entire year. That would eat through his brain like acid in a soufflé until he was a drooling vegetable. Oh, right, get more squash with the broccoli.
His notebook slammed closed, and Raj stared up at Logan standing over him. “This is for the haunt, okay. You need to go buddy up with…him.” He pointed to the man who’d called Raj “Chowder.”
Raj pursed his lips at the thought. “Why?”
“‘Cause that’s the mayor.” Logan started to push Raj across the floor toward the party. “And if we get an in with him, we should be able to snag those last few permits.”
“Permits?” Raj turned on Logan in an instant. “We open in a week. How do we not have all the necessary permits?”
“It’s no big deal. Just the fire marshal’s giving us the runaround. Schmooze. You do know how to do that, right? Big Hollywood guy that you are.”
Hollywood guy. Right. Schmoozing at parties. Like people would let a VFX artist anywhere near the glitzy red carpets. The studios probably feared they’d turn feral and bite the actors who’d suddenly get a craving to use Blackmagic Fusion.
Raj skidded on his heels toward a group of people engaged in that time-honored tradition of not wanting anyone else to join in their conversation. Voices chuckled, and the man in the middle said, “That’s not my grandmother. That’s my vampire.”
Everyone broke into raucous laughter at what must have been a great joke. Having only caught the punchline, Raj gave a little chuckle. The group started to open, and he caught who was delighting everyone with his sharp repartee. Adam Stein held a glass of something amber with the air of an heiress about to cut down every hanger-on with just his tongue. Raj’s cheeks burned at the intensity. Fear and embarrassment that Raj was about to be his next target circled around him.
It was also disturbingly hot. A dressing down from that lithe man in the impeccable suit… You’re here for a job, not to browse. Focus.
“You made quite the impression at the parade, Mr Choudhary.” Adam lifted his glass and eyebrow with the impact of a gunshot to the chest.
This is stupid. I’m a grown man. He’s not even my type.
With a care, Adam swept his sharply parted hair to the side, and his gray eyes gleamed like a river of mercury under the bar lights. Okay, fine. He’s maybe my type. And they’re all waiting for me to talk. What was the topic again? The parade.
“Not as big as yours,” Raj said. He’d only taken a few quick glances back at the royal throne and the pumpkin man on it, but Adam had looked like a king, no doubt.
Raj put on a smile to back up his compliment when everyone went stone silent. They were glancing back at Adam, then zeroing in on him. Oh no, what’d I say now? Am I looking at them too much? Not enough?
A good dozen or so emotions flipped across Adam’s face. He circled his finger around the rim of his glass, then he smiled. “Ha. Good thing I landed on my gourd, huh?”
“Your gourd!” A woman in a cloud of perfume laughed and smacked Adam on the back. He winced hard at first, but tried to play it off like it was a joke.
Oh, darn. Right. He fell off his float as the throne fell. Raj remembered that. Sort of. His float had been driving away when it happened. By the time he’d noticed, people had already helped Adam back onto his seat. Though he’d held the flattened pumpkin head in his lap the rest of the route.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean your fall. I was only—” Raj started to explain when Adam swept him up. He didn’t just stand close, but took his arm.
“It was a delight to see one of my masks in the parade. And on one of the best floats, too, no less.”
“One of…?” The woman from the parade setup snorted under her breath. Adam glared at her, and she didn’t flinch.
“Oh, was I not supposed to wear it? I just, I thought it was perfect for the day. With the sun and the colors.” Great going, Raj. First big introduction in town, and you’ve managed to break every unspoken rule.
“Don’t be silly,” Adam laughed at him. “They’re meant to be shown off. Thus, everyone in the crowd knows where they too can get their own one-of-a-kind Halloween mask. It’s the best store in town.”
Raj hadn’t meant to buy anything that afternoon. He’d just heard about the store when he got into town and had had some time to kill before the parade. But the second he’d seen that mask that seemed to break all the laws of physics he’d learned in college, he had to have it. Getting to meet the owner was a nice perk.
“It’s a really beautiful mask. All of them are.”
“Thank you. And everyone else can see them on October first, per usual,” Adam called to the bar that didn’t seem too interested in his announcement. “Now. What’s this I hear about a haunt in Anoka?”
“Ah. I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” Raj said, nervously scratching at the back of his head. “Who keeps putting cats in bags anyway? That’s inhumane. And going to cause blood loss once the cat’s out.”
Adam stared at him, and Raj gulped. He forgot the topic again. “My haunt. Yes. I bought the old Rushford Hotel and am transforming it into both a classic haunt and an overnight experience.”
“Overnight…? What does that mean?” Adam asked.
“My boy.” The winds shifted as a man in a straw hat rushed over. He had not only the shape but the countenance of a melting snowman. Adam smiled at him, but his focus was on Raj. “That float of yours was something else. Real Hollywood magic, eh?”
“Um, I suppose. Scrim’s been used in plays for hundreds of years. And the projections are—”
The man slapped Raj on the back. “Can we expect even better at your haunted hotel?”
“I certainly hope so.” Raj kept nodding as he looked around the group. At the edge, he spotted Logan, who gave him two thumbs up.
“Hope is the best we can hope for,” the man said with a snort. “It looks like Angie’s trying to steal my seat. If you’ll excuse me.”
The man bustled off to protect his chair, and Adam used that moment to slip in closer to Raj. “You’ve impressed Mayor Gunderson.”
“Really?” Was that who he needed to talk to about permits?
“Anoka takes Halloween seriously. Very seriously. Every street corner is decorated with vintage cats, witches, and devils. Though, it’s funny.” Adam placed a finger in front of his lips, and he gazed up at the heavens.
“What is?”
“It’s never had a haunted attraction last the season.”
That was also why Raj got the idea to try one here. He thought it a good business decision, but watching Adam’s smile twist did the same to Raj’s intestines. What did he miss? Oh no, was this already cursed?
“But I’m sure you’ll be the first to make it work,” Adam said, giving him a thumbs up. “Not just a haunt, but an experience. What’s that all about?”
“Given that it’s a hotel, I thought why not make the hauntings last all night and offer rooms to—”
“Chowdery!” Mayor Gunderson shouted over him.
“Choudhary,” Raj said without a second thought. Then he caught Logan face-palming. “Chowdery’s fine.”
“Our Halloween committee’s meeting tomorrow. Why don’t you come?”
“Really?” Raj squeaked.
“Really?” Adam asked, his voice ice cold.
“The more the merrier,” the mayor shouted with a laugh. “No, wait. The more the spookier. Woo!”
“Ha, good one, Jim,” Adam said before turning his silver-ice eyes on Raj. “Good luck with your experience, Mr. Choudhary.” He gave a tight-lipped smile, then phased into the crowd until he was once again at the center of it all.
Somehow, Raj wound up on the outside without taking a step. A committee meeting? In this small town where everyone knew everyone’s business? That was…that sounded like a very bad idea.
“Yes!” Logan leaped over, slamming his hands to Raj’s shoulders until the poor man feared he might buckle. “You did it.”
“I did?”
“Get on that committee, and you can convince them to put our hotel on the official itinerary. This is perfect.”
Get? Convince? Raj’s eyes bugged out at the idea that he’d not only have to join a group, but be personable enough for them to listen to him and do what he wanted. “Logan, I don’t—”
“This is perfect. Woo! I’m celebrating. What are you drinking? Scotch?”
Raj should be looking to the mayor kind enough to extend him the invitation, but his eyes kept skipping over to the lithe man in the torn waistcoat conducting the people like a maestro. “Whisky,” Raj yelped.
A haunted hotel?
Not just a haunt but a hotel too?
And an invitation onto the Halloween committee?
“Ma?” Adam’s mind reeled as he stumbled through his old front door. On instinct, he glanced at the preserved sitting room, expecting to find her on the couch knitting another blanket for the grandchildren that would never come. The ancient, rabbit-eared TV played an episode of Bewitched to an empty room.
Dropping his bag, Adam called out. “You awake?” It wasn’t that late, right? He moved to check his phone, and a crick he’d been ignoring all night turned into a full-body cramp. Hissing in pain, Adam swung around to escape the agony. Light glinted off the edge of a three-foot-long butcher knife. It slashed through the air at the end of the hall, red juice dripping from the blade.
The knife turned, a black gloved hand clinging to the handle. “Mom!” Adam shouted.
“Yes, love?” White curls stuffed under a sleeping bonnet, and the cherubic face of his mother poked through the doorway. She smiled warmly at him, paying no mind to the murder weapon in her hand.
Adam stared at the knife, then into her eyes. She blinked a few times, then blushed. “Oh, sorry, dear. I was slicing up cherries for my pies.”
“The harvest sale isn’t for a few weeks.”
“I like to give them time to sit. Really soaks in the flavor.”
“And turns your pies into cherry liquor,” Adam mumbled to himself. To distract from his heart pounding a million miles an hour, he slumped onto the old couch across from the TV. Samantha wiggled her nose and made everything worse.
“What brings you by?” his mom asked, still carrying the knife like she was about to disembowel some randy teens.
He had no idea. After his triumphant performance at the parade, all Adam wanted to do was crawl into a deep, dark hole and bury himself. But he had to laugh it off, convince people he meant to fall off of his float and crush his pumpkin. Laugh with them laughing at him. Alcohol was supposed to help.
Then he showed up.
Rubbing his temples, Adam stared at the fake drawer that hid his parents’ VCR. “What do you know about that old hotel out by Round Lake?”
“Oh, it was marvelous back in the day. Your father nearly proposed there.”
