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Zachary had installed himself at the northwest corner of the yard, so that the audience (his word) could observe all the amazing things his house had to offer before they stopped to get candy. He didn’t want them getting candy before they’d looked and then running off to the next stop without appreciating his hard work.
Bram was ardently anti-military, but he couldn’t help but think that if apocalyptic war ever descended on Garnet Run, Wyoming, he would want Zachary at his side.
The last week had been a dream. He and Zachary worked so well together and had such fun that Bram never wanted the days to end—to say nothing of the steamy nights.
Zachary hadn’t mentioned the promotion that week, but Bram could see him mentally chewing on it. He would get an intense distracted look, like he was focused on something internal, and fall silent for minutes at a time. His sleep had been interrupted too.
It had been killing Bram not to ask him every day what he was thinking about with regard to the future, but he’d held his tongue. He’d already given Zachary a hefty dose of his opinion and he knew some people needed a chance to process things on their own.
To distract himself, Bram had begun monitoring the cat shelters diligently over the last week, lining them with towels donated by shop owners on Main Street, putting out bowls of food, and checking to make sure there weren’t wounded cats in need of medical care.
He’d added a hollowed-out tree trunk shelter to the clearing that held Wes Mobray’s glowing trees, and when he’d checked that one he’d found two black cats in it, the glow of the plants reflected in their big eyes, tails twitching with interest as they gazed at the magical clearing around them. He’d taken a picture to send to Wes and also sent it to Rye. Rye had told him to send it to River, who managed the shelter’s social media, and now it was up on their Instagram.
This had given Bram an idea. He didn’t have any social media accounts, but he downloaded Instagram and began looking for architecture content. He found a whole community there of freelance designers who posted mock-ups of buildings they’d designed. On some of them, he’d seen comments by people who wanted to actually make the buildings a reality. As soon as they were done with Halloween, Bram was going to show Zachary and see if he wanted to post his own designs. They were so unique and creative, Bram felt sure there would be interest.
Suddenly, a terrifying monster jumped at him, claws out.
Bram lurched backward, clutching his heart. “Oh my god,” he said, laughing when he realized the horrible monster was Gus Mills. “You scared me!”
“Yesss.” She pumped her fist triumphantly.
“What are you?”
“I’m a cryptic mantis.”
“Er. What is that?”
“It’s a kind of mantis.”
“Ah, of course. Well. You look extremely scary, if that’s what you were going for.”
“It was,” she confirmed, clearly delighted.
Costume show-and-tell over, and Adam and Wes catching up to her, already wild-eyed, Gus began to look around her.
“Gus,” Adam wheezed. “You skipped past all the other houses.”
“Also when are the next track and field trials,” Wes muttered.
“I wanted to see Bram,” she said, shrugging.
She stood and gaped, clearly noticing the chainsaw-carved sea monster for the first time.
“Ohhh, that’s so cool!”
She approached the sea monster and ran curious fingers over it.
“She insisted we get here as soon as it started,” Adam said, clearly frazzled. “She’s very enthusiastic about Halloween.”
“So is Zachary,” Bram said. “He even took the day off work. I didn’t think he ever did that.”
“He takes one day off a year for this when it falls on a weekday,” Wes said.
“Where did you get this dragon?” Gus said, eyes wide.
“Oh, well, I made it. It’s a sea monster, see?”
“How did you make it?”
“I carved it.”
“Whoa. How?”
Wes blinked, remembering Adam’s strict instructions to never tell her about chainsaw carving.
“With. Um. A feather?”
Wes snorted and Adam was clearly cultivating a studied neutrality.
Gus screwed up her face. “A feather? Feathers can’t carve stuff.”
“Right, um. With...” Bram was not a good liar. He wasn’t good at making things up on the spot. So he went with a classic. “I can’t tell you.”
“What? Why?”
“Because.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Gus demanded.
“Gus,” Adam said. “We do not ask people what is wrong with them.”
Gus slumped. “Fine,” she muttered. “But I will figure it out.”
Adam’s expression turned to one of terror and then settled into resignation.
“Look at the creepy decorations, Bug,” Wes said. Finally, a distraction that worked.
The collaboration had turned out even better than Bram had expected, due mainly to Zachary’s vision and planning.
In front of his own house, the green-and-black sea monster swam through an undulating blue tarp sea, and tentacles thrust up through it every five feet or so, dripping with green-black slime. Wes’ bioluminescent algae tipped each tentacle with an eerie green glow.
