Page 118 of Trick or Stalk

“Exactly.”

I walk away before he can respond.

The store smells like plastic and fake fog.

Costumes cover one wall. Witches. Vampires. Clowns.

I walk past all of them.

I'm only browsing.

That's all.

Halloween is coming.

There's apparently some town-wide celebration.

Having a costume isn't unusual. If anything, buying one means I'll blend in.

Then I see the masks.

Rows of faces stare back at me.

Clowns.

Demons.

Animals.

Skulls.

I pick up one.

Too ridiculous.

Another.

Too obvious.

I put it back.

Then I see one hanging near the end.

My hand stills.

It’s white. Weathered. Almost bone-colored. Dark hollows surround the eyes, stretching outward like cracks or shadows. The mouth is distorted, neither smiling nor frowning, and the cheekbones are sharp enough to make the face look almost skeletal.

Not quite human. Not quite dead.

I take it from the hook. The plastic is cool beneath my fingers.

I picture Presley’s face the moment she sees this mask.

Her green eyes widening.

Lips parting.

That little rush of breath when she realizes someone is standing between the trees. Watching her.