Page 27 of Haunted Horror on Halloween

“With or without human decorations,” he replied dryly. “All right, this is . . . this is not going to be him. He won’t make it this easy, this close to the road. But he’s created something ahead, a diversion, I figure.”

“And I think you’re right; we still need to be careful.”

“Of course.”

He turned off his light. They stood still, adjusting to the night, the darkness, and allowing the moon and the stars to be their only guide.

Not an easy decision. But if Darrell Manderley had been using more human decorations, they needed to move fast but also be extremely meticulous.

Angela gave him a nod and started forward again, watching for the branches, for twigs on the ground, for anything that might give them away with sound.

She was ahead of him and she suddenly stopped, lifting a hand. She drew him around so he could see past her shoulder.

They’d come to a very small clearing in the woods, but that was where the spiderwebs had been woven between the trees, the webs they had seen first from a distance.

And, yes, of course, the place had been turned into a Halloween scene.

The small clearing offered a tiny pumpkin patch, a crude wooden coffin, an eerie skeleton, a witch, a goblin, and several ghosts.

And a man who was talking to . . .

The night. Or the decorations. One of which just might be human.

“We are the night!” the man said. It was difficult with the lack of real light to truly see him, but he appeared to be in his forties. He wore an orange Halloween sweatshirt and a blue baseball cap over wild, slightly graying hair.

“I’m sorry, but this is so short, and the reward was so great! And you must understand, I didn’t see the light at first, but now I understand! The suffering brings us to a greater place than we could have ever known. I truly didn’t understand at first, but life without my wife . . . well, now she and I both will have his eternity, the splendor that we’re promised, and you will share that, too. I do hope you understand that; your suffering will bring you to splendor, a place where there is no pain, only . . . a majesty none of us has ever known!”

“Crazy? Drugs?” Angela whispered.

“Maybe a bit of both. But he seems to be alone,” Jackson whispered in return.

“Let me find out,” Angela said.

Jackson was pretty sure the man was alone, but that was all right—he’d be right here, not twenty feet away, ready to burst onto the scene—or take aim and shoot any unseen target that offered her harm.

“Hey!” Angela said, walking into the tiny clearing. “The pumpkin and that zombie both forgive you, you know!”

The man jumped back in consternation.

“You—you—who are you? Oh, wait, you’re supposed to be—no! You are the witch, the horrible true monster who doesn’t understand the sacrifice of Halloween!”

He was fumbling at his side for a weapon. And, of course, if he got it out and aimed it, they’d have to take him out.

Angela wasn’t going to let that happen. She used the training she had from years of being in the Krewe.

She butted the man with a force that sent him flying to the ground. And by then, of course, Jackson was out of the trees, flipping the man around to get his wrists behind him and to handcuff him with zip ties.

“No, no, I can’t fail! You are the witch and I failed and . . . he’ll kill Trudy! Kill me, because if he kills my wife, I might as well be dead!” the man cried.

“We’ll find your wife and see that she’s protected,” Jackson told the man. “Sorry, we’re not going to kill you, but officers will come to escort you from these woods.” He already had his phone out; Valiente was close and he had patrols running the roads through the entire area; he would need to get officers there as soon as possible.

Explaining exactly where they were was the hard part.

And requesting medical help as well seemed prevalent, though they hadn’t had time as yet to determine if any of the standing “decorations” were human.

“I’ve got him,” he told Angela. “If you want to start—”

“On it,” she assured him.