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“Trixie?” I croaked.
Still held within the clutches of terror, I reached up and tentatively fingered where my monster had touched, nonplussed when I felt something wet. Slowly I lowered my shaking hand and saw the tips of my fingertips coated in red.
CHAPTER
Seven Days of Sin.
A week-long event that just so happened to align with the commemoration of my all-time favorite holiday.
Halloween.
I know it’s not technically recognized that way despite multiple countries participating in an all-around epic celebration on the same damn day. The backlash and uproar would be too brutal for that ever to happen.
Society as a whole could be rather sensitive.
Literature and movies were black barred left and right. I thought that in itself was a crock of shit. No one held a gun to someone’s head and demanded they read or watch something that would make them lose their minds.
I’m sure you can imagine how people would feel about a day that was said to have occultist origins, potentially linked to the devil, and sometimes referred to as Festival of the Dead being granted a national honor. Heads would roll—no pun intended.
While I didn’t agree in the slightest with the warped perceptions many had about my favorite day of the year, I did somewhat understand. Some people just weren’t fans of horror, or anything considered to be darkly spiritual.
From repulsion when it came to gore, blasphemy against personal beliefs, and assholes that wanted to shit on kids dressing up to get candy, Halloween got a lot of hate.
I adored it for various reasons, one being it fell in sync with my favorite season of the year. Decking out the house in appropriately themed décor while sipping pumpkin lattes was one of the highlights of fall. It was also aesthetically on point with my interests and questionable hobbies.
Surfing the dark web, debunking snuff films, sneaking into places reportedly plagued by some sinister presence, and watching every horror movie from shitty to superb were things my friends and I often indulged. So, this festival sounded like it was right up our alley.
I popped another few kernels of popcorn into my mouth and tapped my Hocus Pocus pen against the currently opened page of my notebook, waiting to hear the verdict.
We were running behind schedule, so we’d need to quickly find somewhere else to go if this didn't get chosen.
Time was of the essence when everyone had different work schedules to consider.
Every year, my group of friends, my sister included, took two trips as a group. One in the spring and one in the fall. We’d been doing it since we met our senior year of high school.
That was five years ago now and the tradition had yet to die off or be skipped. Our friendship hadn’t become a statistic either. We were still as close as ever, if not closer.
Alex’s hazel eyes peered at me from above the rim of my laptop screen, “How did you find out about this again?”
“It was at the top of my email a few days ago. Something I must have subscribed to and forgot about.”
“I told you to stop signing up for random stuff. That’s the equivalent of spreading your legs around town and hoping you don’t catch an STI from some two-pump chump.”
“I will give you credit for that great analogy because it was fairly clever, but this wasn’t random.”
He gave me a look that said I was full of shit.
“Okay, maybe it was,” I confessed with a laugh. “I wouldn’t have filled it out for nothing. I must have seen something worth subscribing to.”
“Who wouldn’t? I would’ve done it too,” Bellatrix reassured me.
“You would say that. You’re her sister.” He waved us both off and adjusted his glasses, refocusing on what he was doing.
I tucked my Captain Spalding throw beneath my legs and grabbed my glass of Pumpkin Rum off the coffee table.
I loved these kinds of evenings.
Ragnor was at my side, gnawing away on his beef-knuckle. A heady scent of cinnamon wax melts filled the air.
The fire was going in the fireplace, creating a warm and toasty ambiance. Pads and tampons were assaulting CARRIE on the flat screen. The television volume was nearly inaudible, but that wasn’t important.
I sipped my drink, casting another glance across the family room to where Alex was sitting. Within our group of friends, he was the best when it came to innerweb stuff.
“You still digging?”
“I’m pretty much done. Everything I’ve found so far says it’s legit.”
“Yeah, this is looking more and more like it’s the real deal.” Bellatrix flipped her cellphone around to show him whatever was on the screen.
Jacob toyed with one of Alex’s blonde curls, leaning over so he could see too. “Where the hell is Seraphim?”
“That’s what the village capital is called,” Bellatrix replied.
“Those have capitals?”
“This one does,” Alex mumbled.
I leaned forward and scribbled Seraphim on the top portion of my notebook page, right above the name of the actual village.
