Ghosts of Halloween: Chapter 3

I hover in front of her face, taking her in with greedy eyes. She’s changed in those two years since I last saw her, and I like the change. It tells me she’s suffered as much as we have.

That doesn’t mean I forgive her, but it soothes the hate I feel and turns it into something less cold.

I drink in the sharpness of her cheekbones, more prominent now. She always copes by running, and she’s clearly not eating enough. It’s like she’s halfway to the other side already, all the excess carved away so only the essence of her remains.

But her lips are still plump and soft. She licks them nervously, turning her head this way and that, trying to see. I cock my head to the side and watch without blinking, her terror like a soft blanket over my agonizing wrath.

It’s in her eyes. They are wide-open, so big in her thin face. That color, which I remember from before, warm brown in the candlelight, is nothing special. Yet on her, it looks exquisite. Velvety and inviting.

I accept your invitation.

She’s wearing fake eyelashes, and I grin, thinking how she made herself up for us. She doesn’t know we are the ones who’ll get to enjoy her efforts. It makes this game all the sweeter.

When I move back to take all of her in, my grin widens. I like her pretty black dress with lace and ruffles and her blond hair, falling softly down her shoulders.

Pretty, pretty princess dressed in funeral black. How appropriate.

She looks like a doll, and I’m itching to smash her against the wall.

But play first. And work later.

She gulps deep breaths, her hand on her chest, the black prosthetic clenched into a fist. I remember when I saw her try it on for the first time, Noah all glowing with pride next to his little sister.

They were both so happy. And all I could think about was the scarred, mauled skin of her stump that ended just above where her elbow should be. I saw it before she put on the new arm, even though she tried to hide it, awkward and self-conscious. I had so many questions.

Was it sensitive? Did it hurt? Was touching it her hard limit?

I’ll find out tonight. No big brother to stop me now.

“Hello?” Harlow calls out, her voice scratchy. She clears her throat and tries again. “Who’s there?”

I laugh under my breath, and she whips her head in my direction, sweet, tempting fear oozing out of her. Her breath catches in her throat, and she reaches behind her, gripping the handle.

It rattles as she tries to get the door to open. No use, princess. It’s sealed shut.

“Please,” she calls again, her voice breaking. “Let me out. I didn’t know someone was here. I didn’t mean to disturb you!”

Of course she didn’t know. How could she? But it makes me angry. We’ve been aware of her all this time, trapped and tied to her, and she didn’t even know. She didn’t mean to disturb us. I grimace, hot anger rising inside me like bile, burning me from within.

Tough luck, sunshine. Intentions don’t matter.

Only actions.

From the corner of my eye, I see Caden. He shakes his head, and I nod, knowing what he means. We’ve agreed on the plan. This game is our payback, and it should last as long as we’ve got. All night long. I can’t spoil it for them by ending it too soon.

I release my anger, and Harlow hiccups, sensing something. She turns to the door and pulls on the handle, wrestling with it, until the old thing gives way, and she lands on her ass with the handle in her hand.

The door is still locked.

She whimpers from pain and fear, and suddenly, I want to lick her. Taste that terrified sheen of sweat in the hollow of her throat. Lick up her jaw and feel her tense against me as she whimpers.

Fuck. I need it now. Need our princess to start running.

I glance at Caden, my brows raised, and he shakes his head again, though I see how his eyes burn in his face, training on her. He hates her less than me, craves her less than me, but he still wants to see her beg. Down on her knees where she belongs.

There’s a small thud from above, and Harlow gasps, turning to the stairs. I can tell her eyes have adjusted to the dark now. She can see the edges of things. She’ll be able to make her way through the house.

It’s time, then.

Silas appears at the top of the stairs, his mouth stretched in a vicious grin. His eyes are glued to her, and something passes over his face, a darker shadow. He doesn’t want her like I do, but he hates her even more, I think. Silas hates being trapped, and right now, she is our cage.

He’ll break her on his way out, I just know. With pleasure.

Finally, he looks away from Harlow, his face set, and our eyes lock. He grins slowly as she whimpers, and I return his smile, the excitement we share dancing in his eyes. He gives me a nod, and Caden nods, too.

I chuckle again, making her look around in fear, and slowly move closer.

And closer. Here she is, and I lower my head to be eye to eye with our princess, drinking in her terror, the electric tension in her body a titillation I can’t resist. I feel her terrified breath, and it drives me crazy.

It’s been so long since I felt anything.

We’re face to face, eye to eye, and she feels me. She whimpers, her lush lips trembling, and I grin, anticipation at its peak.

Harlow is tense and ready to bolt, her entire body vibrating with energy. Run, princess, I think as I lean closer. She’s a loaded gun, and I get to pull the trigger.

I bring my lips to her ear and whisper.

“Boo.”