“Are you fromSinners?” Grace guesses. “The woman with either Smoke or Stack—dammit, I can’t remember her name. Clearly, I need to rewatch it.”
Celeste nods. “Annie.”
“Yes!” Chloe and Grace shout simultaneously.
“Ah, you fucking nailed her look,” Chloe adds. “Gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” Celeste replies in character, southern accent and all.
As we round the corner of the entryway, the space opens into a living room where about a dozen partygoers are mingling in small groups of two or three. A long table is decked out with snacks, candy, and more spooky decor. Bottles of liquor and beer, along with a large punch bowl, sit on a separate table by the kitchen entrance.
“Are Theo and Oliver here?” I ask, glancing around for a familiar face, but seeing none I recognize.
“I think Wren is putting the final touches on Oliver’s makeup,” Grace replies with a smirk. “They should be out soon, though. Feel free to make a drink or have a snack!”
“Thank you both,” Nikki says, then takes my hand and leads me to the snack table. It’s immaculate—every dish is thematically named and labeled. Mummy pigs-in-a-blanket, graveyard cupcakes, spider and pumpkin cookies, vampire donuts, candy corn popcorn, bone-shaped breadsticks, and an entire charcuterie board arranged in the shape of a skeleton. The punchbowl is filled with a neon-green, foamy concoction labeled “Witch’s Rum Punch.”
“Wow,” Nikki breathes. “This is quite a spread.”
“Right?” I agree. “I kind of want to drink first, though. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”
“Carefully,” Nikki warns. “Stay hydrated, stick to one type of liquor, and eat enough carbs, and you should be fine.”
I stare at the bottles of liquor and mixers anxiously. “Which liquor goes well with what?”
Nikki rolls her eyes. “Do you not have a go-to cocktail?”
“I’ve never had a legit cocktail,” I mutter. “Only wine and beer. And a couple of ciders.”
“Shit,” she hisses. “Well, I’m making a rum and Coke for myself, so try that and see if you like it.”
I watch Nikki pour a sizable splash of rum into a plastic cup half full of ice, then top it with about half a can of Coke. She stirs it briefly with a straw, takes a sip, then passes it to me.
Well, here goes nothing.
The familiar taste of Coke goes down easily enough, but what I assume must be the rum adds a strong, bittersweet flavor that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Oh, wow,” I sputter, trying not to cough. “That’s—that’s not bad.”
Nikki smiles. “Good. That’s your first drink of the night, then. Sip it slowly.”
I nod and take another sip, warmth blooming around my sternum. With each swig, the rum becomes less jarring. I can see why this is Nikki’s go-to cocktail.
“Ayyy, there’s Jude and Nikki!”
I turn to find the source of the voice and almost drop my drink. Before me stands a hideous, ghoulish creature that only vaguely resembles Oliver. His mostly bald head is discolored, decaying in some places, with a disgusting mustache over his lips. Only his height and dark brown eyes give him away.
“Oh, my god,” I exclaim. “Oliver, is that you in there?”
The baldish ghoul wheezes. “I am an appetite,” he rasps hoarsely with a strange accent. “Nothing more.”
I scrunch my nose. “Wow. I mean, you guys really nailed the look, but it’s kind of hard to look at you for too long.”
Standing beside Oliver is a crazed-looking older woman with a tacky red wig, enormous, thick-plastic-rimmed glasses that take up most of their face, and a bright pink and red outfit.
“Oh! You’re Gladys fromWeapons,right?” Nikki asks the wig-wearing elder beside us.
The person’s drawn-on eyebrows waggle. “Sure am!”
“Damn, y’all look nasty,” Celeste interjects. “So, you must be the infamous Wren, right?”
