The King of Halloween, page 6
Shaking from his wide shoulders down, Raj asked, “Did it ever enter your thoughts that I’m here to help? That I want to make this place better?”
Better for whom? For his rich investors looking to buy up cheap real estate and force out the locals? For those men in suits who sit around moving numbers from one column to another and have houses worth more than the GDP of a small country? For him?
“You’re not going to win, Mr. Choudhary.”
“Win what?” he cried out, flabbergasted, before his eyes narrowed. “This is about that King thing, isn’t it? You think I’m going for the crown?”
Adam jerked at how dismissively he spoke of an Anoka tradition. This outsider cared nothing for this town and its culture. “I do now,” he said.
Raj sneered and kept shaking his head. “No, you know what, you should be scared. Because I’m going to win over the council, my hotel will dazzle people from the whole county, my haunt will be the talk of Anoka, and your streak as the King of Halloween will end, Mr. Stein.”
Blood boiling, Adam wanted to leap over and wring Raj’s neck. No one was taking this from him. Not the mayor, not Marianne, and certainly not some upstart outsider here to sell out the town. The crown was and should always be his!
Both men panted hard, about to come to blows at Stitches’ feet. Adam, in a red haze, took a step closer, and Raj met him. He tipped his head up, not caring about the half-foot height difference. Raising his finger, he prepared to poke Raj in the chest.
“That guy is a hoot and a half… Um, did I miss something?”
Raj’s goofy partner stood on the steps. He kept thumbing through a stack of papers while watching the two of them. Both Adam and Raj stared at the man, then each other, before realizing how that must have looked.
Fuck. Trying to shake off his nervous and alien urge to hit something, Adam wandered off. He turned his back on Raj as Logan jogged down the stairs to join him. Closing his eyes, he probably imagined the greeting kiss from a couple celebrating the end of his town.
“How did it go?” Raj asked softly.
“Good. We’re all set. Did you know we’re hosting a movie night in the ballroom?”
“Ah, yes…”
“So we should probably put a floor in,” Logan said with such honesty that it made Adam bark out a laugh. That poser was screwed, and he knew it.
Adam risked a glance over his shoulder only to find Raj staring right at him. Both men turned red and looked the other way.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I am beat.” Logan gave a huge yawn and stretched. “You coming?”
Don’t think about them in bed. Don’t think about him in cute pajamas. Don’t picture him exploding in Logan’s mouth.
Damn it.
“Yes,” Raj said, nearly causing Adam to groan. He followed after Logan but gave one last look back at Adam’s blistering face. “Mr. Stein.”
“Mr. Choudhary,” Adam answered. As he watched the two of them trail off to their luxurious California king bed, he muttered to himself, “This means war.”
CHAPTER SIX
WHO DOES HE think he is?
Blinded by red, Raj stomped up the stairs of his hotel with such force that the century-old wood cracked. “That…petulant drama queen.” The words spat like broken teeth. He’d had his fair share of the fickle and thin-skinned out west and thought he’d escape it here. A few years of passive-aggressive blessings to his face at least. But there was fucking Adam Stein, standing right in front of him, deciding what he wanted, what he thought, what he was—
“Raj!”
A hand grabbed the back of his jacket, nearly yanking him off of his feet. He twisted in the coat until staring Logan in the eye. “What?” his voice reached shrieking tea kettle levels as he glared down his business partner.
“You nearly fell down the hole, man.” Logan jerked his chin in that direction.
Numb, Raj peered back at the open gap in the floorboards. His stomach lurched at the ten-foot fall directly onto cement and piles of rebar. “Why is this here?” Raj thundered.
“Cause we don’t have the whatever you want yet,” Logan mumbled.
Right. His dumb idea to have lights and sounds rise from under the floor. Every stupid plan cost him more money and time. But he couldn’t do his hotel without twitching towels in the communal bathroom.
“Hey.” Logan tapped his rolled-up documents on Raj’s head, then strolled around the gap without looking. Raj more cautiously sidled past it. “We got the permits. All we need is one last inspection by the fire marshal in the haunt, and we’re ready to make bank.”
One last inspection. That was all. Then he could realize his dream of leaving everything behind to run a haunted bed and breakfast. Just without the cats and doting husband who bakes scones every morning on the side. It’s fine. He had Logan, who…was staring down the drill with the bit near his eye.
“Don’t…” Raj tried to pull it away before Logan gave himself an accidental lobotomy.
Logan nodded like he hadn’t nearly lost an eye, then smiled. “So what’s this about a movie night? The mayor sounded excited.”
A phony. He called him a damn phony, a liar to his face. Raj clenched his hand. A loud whirr erupted, and he yelped, dropping the drill to the ground.
That was Adam Stein’s fault, too. He’s just like all the closed-minded rest, scared of the evil invader, the outsider. The man who doesn’t look like them, act like them, comes into their town and dares to put spice in his food.
“Way I figure, we get the lobby finished, clean some things, then spook up the ballroom. Throw a few sheets over the unpainted bits. That’ll seem scary.” Logan kept talking as Raj twisted his head.
So Mr. Stein thinks he gets to decide who does and does not belong in this town? That he’s the literal king of Halloween? Hefting a box from behind the counter, Raj caused a small business card to tumble out. He turned around the card telling the tale of the Halloween mask. Stamped on the back was a mark with a name. Raj’s exhausted grimace ticked up into a malicious grin. “We’ll see who wears the crown now, Mr. Stein.”
Leaning over, Logan pointed at the mask. “I think that’s a lizard.”
Ecstatic, Raj walked out of the hardware store that wasn’t a bar, unless they hid it in back somewhere. Dappled sunlight danced across his face. It’d finally warmed, so he’d unwound his scarf and let the sun apple his cheeks. The air smelled of crinkly leaves and old hay. Children rode their bikes up and down the streets between red-bricked buildings. Cute vintage signs advertising cakes shaped like pumpkins and about being here for the boos lightened his heavy shoulders.
This was what he wanted—quaint, cute, kitsch. To ride down the street on his old Schwinn, fresh apple tarts in the basket, greeting people with a good morning before he curled up on the bench below an old oak tree to read the most gory thriller imaginable. It wasn’t a retirement but an escape before his mind exploded.
Or…it was supposed to be.
Raj’s steps faltered as he came upon his nemesis’s store. He didn’t realize he was so close, but the streams of people standing outside gawking at the windows gave him a warning to turn back. People gasped at the masks, causing a fake spider to descend and startle them. Smaller kids flocked around an animatronic butler holding suckers shaped like ghosts and pumpkins, pleading with their parents to get them one. The sucker, not the butler. Though, one tiny girl in pigtails kept hugging the legs of a Freddy Krueger stand-up like he was her best friend.
Somewhere in there was a man with a huge grin on his face living Raj’s best life. Bringing joy to the kids by scaring the hell out of them. Getting to live in that narrow world where laughter and fear coalesce into a burst of giddy euphoria.
What the hell are you doing?
Raj’s phone vibrated and he reached in to take it. Another missed call from Logan. They were five days away from the hotel opening, and Raj had spent the entire morning traveling an hour outside of town on his stupid revenge mission. And for what?
Just because Adam…
A side door flew open. Cackling with a mouth full of plastic teeth, Adam Stein flung his arms wide. The vampire cape scattered off of his shoulders, and he cried out to the gathering horde, “Come, my children. The cemetery of the dead awaits you.”
Damn. Why did Raj’s weakness have to be men in tight-ass suits—especially vests? He knew he should turn back and go the other way, but he froze. Adam had stained his lips red for the part, and he’d added makeup to try to give him a gaunt look. Instead, it highlighted his cheekbones, and the darkness under his eyes made the ice-white blue of them burn brighter than a candle. Raj would gladly offer up his neck, or anywhere else this vampire wanted to take a long, wet bite.
“Yes, yes,” Adam called to the children rushing to get in line. “Enter my lair…if you dare.” He hustled the first five inside. As the door slammed shut, the others all groaned and started to fan out, but something caught Raj’s eye.
A bright orange flyer was taped to the door. It wasn’t little more than printer paper and cheap clip art, but the sentiment was obvious.
The first line was, “Dracula’s Dungeon.” But below that, in even bigger text, was, “Anoka’s first haunted house in thirty years.”
That son of a bitch.
He tried to steal their thunder by throwing a bunch of cheap props and gaudy costumes on mannequins and calling it a haunt? Well, two can play at this game, Mr. Stein. Raj answered his phone.
“Raj, thank fuck. I’ve been calling you all—”
“Change of plans, Logan.”
“What? How? We haven’t finished our first plan.”
Glaring at the line of kids eyeing up the masks in the window, Raj grinned. “We’re opening our gift store. Now.”
Adam gave a wave to the kids skipping out of his haunt, free lollipops in hand. Then he caught the eyes of the ones across the street and snapped back into character. Knotting his hands into claws, he gave a quick hiss. It’d have sent them scrambling for the hills if his vampire fangs didn’t splat onto the sidewalk like grandma’s dentures after one too many glasses of wine. The twelve-year-old boys, high on their first hit of testosterone, eyed him down like a biker gang circling a harried shopkeeper.
“Happy Halloween,” Adam called out in his jolly voice, and turned around. Under his breath, he muttered, “You spoiled bra-a-a!” In the window’s reflection, he spotted the mayor’s wife walking with Mrs. Melnar. Both ladies looked fresh from church despite it being Wednesday.
“Evening,” he greeted them, then tipped the top hat toward the mayor’s wife. Mrs. Melnar stared him up and down like she could read every sin tattooed across his flesh.
“What are you supposed to be?” Mrs. Melnar asked, sneer at the ready.
“A dashing vampiric count,” Adam said. He nearly gave a twirl to bring out the cape, then thought better of it. Thirty-year-old men didn’t twirl.
Mrs. Melnar leaned closer, her glasses pinched so tightly to her nose, that the skin bulged. Holding onto the frames, she stared at Adam, then tutted. “You look foolish.”
“Isn’t that what Halloween’s all about?” he asked innocently before his voice darkened. “Fools getting what they deserve?”
“What?”
“I’m running a little haunted house in my store’s basement. Free to anyone who buys something in store.” Which meant nearly all the kids in Anoka now had a pint of fake blood at their disposal. It was gonna be a sticky, stained Halloween.
“Really?” the mayor’s wife gasped. “Reggie didn’t say anything about a second haunt.”
Adam’s lips twitched, but he managed to fight back his smile. “No? It must have slipped his mind. Nothing too elaborate. I was going for that small-town feel.”
“You mean cheap,” Mrs. Melnar cut in.
“Authentic,” Adam said, then he flinched. “I don’t mean it’s actually haunted. The bodies aren’t real. Not that there are any bodies. Dead or otherwise.” He took a steady breath and smiled. “It’s traditional.”
No store-bought props, no elaborate lighting shows. Everything was done by hand, by him, at two in the morning. Okay, there might be some authentic blood on the mannequins attached to strings. He’d been in a hurry to get it finished in time for opening. No fancy Hollywood type would open his veins for a haunt. Everyone knew it wasn’t really Halloween until the first hot glue burn.
“We should put this on the tour,” the mayor’s wife declared, and Adam beamed at her. He’d been planning on emailing the committee tomorrow once word got out, but coming from her was even better. She finished jotting down a note in her phone, then looked at him. “You are coming to the festival this weekend.”
“The Halloween King wouldn’t dare miss it,” Adam declared. He had a crown to defend. “Would either of you like to…?” Adam started to direct them to his little makeshift haunt when a great howl shattered the air.
All three heads swiveled to find a silhouette standing on the trunk of a car. Hair sprouted from places it shouldn’t, and the monster tipped its long nose back for another howl. With a great thunk, three other creatures of the night scampered along the sidewalk. Adam’s first instinct was to protect his costume—it was a replica from Kiss Kiss, Fang Fang. Luckily, his second was to protect the women, whom he valiantly strode in front of.
The creatures skulked closer, teeth drawn and dripping with radioactive acid. A flash of light landed on the lead’s head, puncturing the jet black matted hair, wrinkled brow, and tattered snout of a werewolf. Beside him walked a creature of gills and scales, and behind that one a…disco ball? Tiny pieces of glass reflected back like a fly’s eye, but they were also across the forehead, down the cheeks, and chin. Adam had never seen anything like it before, but he recognized it right away.
“Great, more weirdos,” Mrs. Melnar harrumphed.
“Oh, they’re masks.”
Yes. Masks. “Excuse me,” Adam called out to the teenage boys having fun terrorizing people. He stepped out of the spotlight of his store and into the fading evening. Once his eyes adjusted, he could see the scrutinized details. The hand-painted veins and capillaries, so lifelike they looked about to pulse. The texture added to the skin until it damn near glowed with a flush of excitement.
They were Baph’s all right, but ones he’d never seen in his life. That wasn’t possible.
“Where did you get those masks?” Adam asked.
“What’s it to you?” the werewolf asked below the latex. He breathed heavily, deflating the snout.
“I just thought they looked dope and would like to get my own, dawg,” Adam said.
The boys turned to each other, then started to laugh. “At that new dungeon past the gas station. They’re selling tons of ‘em,” disco ball declared.
The dungeon past the gas station…? Choudhary.
How? He had an exclusive deal with… If she… Ah!
The werewolf gave one last howl of defiance, which would have meant something if he weren’t five-foot-three and skinnier than a lamppost. Then he scampered off with his crew, who were all wearing masks worth hundreds of dollars.
“Nice to see the children getting into the spirit,” the mayor’s wife said to a dismissive snort from Mrs. Melnar.
Adam took a calming breath. Then he counted backward from ten. Smiling widely, he turned to the ladies. “If you will excuse me. I must be off.”
I have a grave to dig.
It should have taken him longer to drive out to the old hotel. Everyone in town knew where it was, sticking up on a hill next to the lake like a corpse’s hand plunging through the mud. But every time Adam thought about those children in his masks, his car went another five miles per hour faster until he was zipping past everyone on the road.
He didn’t know what to expect. Maybe a gold brick road to lead them up to Oz. The gravel caught him by surprise, and the dirt parking lot even more so. While the hotel sat at the end of a circle drive, every car was turning onto a mowed-down field where light streamed from an open barn.
“I’m just here to talk,” Adam said as he put his car in park and took out the keys. “Maybe it’s all a mistake. He got some hookup with a guy who does movie masks. I’m imagining it.”
The Monster Mash danced its way from speakers hanging above the barn doors. Teenagers and college students alike flocked inside to escape the cutting winds. Adam ignored the cold and took in the scenery. Not much thought or effort had been put into it. There wasn’t even a ghost in the hayloft windows. Critiquing helped to calm him down, but in this case, he noticed a convenient pitchfork leaning against a barrel.
“Going to forget I saw that,” he said and walked into the beam of light on the abandoned country road.
The wall of voices hit like a freight train. He should be used to customers giddily touching everything with sticky hands and complaining about the price, but something in this place made it a hundred times worse. He could hear everything. Every piece of high school gossip, every costume that was too slutty and not slutty enough, every whirling noise maker, and sound effect.
Closing his eyes, Adam tried to steady himself when a single voice cut above the melee. Standing center stage was the ringleader. He carried a baton in one hand and used it to direct people to their heart’s greatest desire. Raj was all smiles as he pointed people to sweaters and t-shirts bearing the logo of his haunt. Adam hated to admit it, but the aesthetic of the hotel’s skyline melting into the text was impressive.
If he didn’t hate the man, he’d get one for himself.
“Excuse me,” a kid called out, barreling into Adam’s shoulder. As he couldn’t move the adult, his armful of goodies went flying. Adam paused to help him gather it up when he ran his fingers over a ninja turtle costume.
A costume.
Snapping to his feet, Adam stared past the throngs of bodies. Hands grabbed capes, wigs, plastic swords, and fishnet stockings. That bastard was running a costume shop out of his god damn haunted hotel.
