Page 213 of Trick or Stalk

“Nothing.”

“Presley.”

I shake my head. “It's just creepy.”

He looks at it again.

For one horrible second, I'm back upstairs at The Crooked Spine. Blindfolded. The Masked Man’s hand around my wrist. That distorted voice in my ear saying, “Good girl.”

No. Stop it.

He’s not here.

You’re with Hades.

My gaze jerks toward Hades. Smoky-gray eyes meet mine before dropping to the mask. He turns it over in his hands. “Cheap.”

I blink. “What?”

“Cheap plastic.”

Then he puts it back. “Come on.”

His hand settles at the small of my back, warm and solid. Real.

I let him guide me away.

And somehow, by the time we're arguing over whether my Morticia dress needs a plunging neckline, I manage to convince myself I'm being ridiculous again.

Two hours later, I'm walking through downtown Hollow Creek dressed like Morticia Addams with Hades beside me in a black pinstriped suit. His hair is slicked back, but he’s not wearing a mustache.

I won.

Which turned out to be unfortunate for me because apparently Hades needed another way to become hotter.

Smoky eyes turn to mine. “You're staring.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I was looking at your costume.”

“Which you've been looking at for twenty minutes.”

“I'm thorough.”

His fingers wrap around mine. “Apparently.”

We reach the square. It’s packed with people. Orange lights are strung between buildings. Music plays around us. Kids race past us carrying glowing pumpkin buckets while adults cluster around food stands and carnival games. The air smells like fried dough, apples, smoke, and cold autumn air.

For the first time in days, I don't feel like checking the shadows. I don't look toward the woods. I don't wonder whether someone is watching me.

I'm just... happy.

Hades buys me cider.

I steal a bite of his funnel cake.