Page 15 of The King of Halloween
“It’s cozy,” Adam sneered through gritted teeth.
“And spooky.”
“That’s ambience. It doesn’t escape my notice, Mayor, that you own the gas station just down the road to the old hotel. You wouldn’t happen to be trying to enrich yourself over the good of the community?”
Mayor Gunderson gave the old “Who me?” routine while pointing at himself. It was Mrs. Milner who learned over. “As if you didn’t suggest your cursed shop to line your pockets.”
He hadn’t. Business was just fine. In truth, he’d found a few old boxes of forgotten props and gotten really excited about decorating up the basement. Glaring down at his plans for making old bed sheet ghosts, Adam tried to claw back control of the situation. Maybe democracy could help him out. “We should vote on it. That’s the law, right? Vote for the people, of the people. So on and so forth?”
“Fine. All in favor of movie night being held in the costume shop on Main?”
Adam raised his hand.
“And all in favor of movie night moving to the Rushford hotel?”
Every single other hand shot up.
The mayor banged his coffee mug down in place of a gavel. “The hotels have it. Marianne here will contact you, Mr. Chowdery, with all the details.”
Adam’s whole life was circling the drain. September thirtieth, he was on top of the world. Then, come October first, it all came crashing down. No. He glared from the side of his eyes at the culprit. It didn’t crash; it was pushed by a saboteur.
“I think we’re done for the eve,” the mayor said. The others all voted with him, and the meeting was finished. Adam kept staring at the turncoat beside him. If it were to be a war, then let the dogs cry havoc or whatever war dogs did.
“A real-life movie star in our little town,” Mayor Gunderson cried out. “This is going to be the best Halloween ever.”
Yes. It will be, or my name isn’t Adam Stein.
“Mr. Choudhary?” Adam leaped to his feet and caught the man’s hand. “Why don’t you walk with me?” Adam’s smile split across his face as Raj nodded. “Excellent.”
?CHAPTER FIVE
?
RAJ KEPT PRODDING at his phone, at first putting in a dozen reminders to check in with Burt, then as a distraction. He had no idea what Adam wanted, the man going silent as they strode down the hall, out the door, and into a cozy, chilled courtyard side by side. Raj was eighty percent certain he didn’t have a type. But that lingering twenty percent stood next to him in a pinstripe vest with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Absently, Adam batted at his hair, switching it to the other side as he glanced over his shoulder.
Oh god, he’s looking at me.
“Can…?” Raj’s mouth threw out a word without his brain having any input. He froze, staring around the courtyard as if it came from a ghost standing beside him. Though he doubted that crying out about a cold spot and running away would save him. Fearing he might go blind from staring too long at Adam, his gaze slid away until he noticed the statue dead center in the square.
“What’s with the scarecrow?” he asked.
“You don’t know?” Adam snorted once, then he stared up at the straw man hanging off the cross.
“No. I saw a lot of people dressed as scarecrows during the parade.” And, as Raj thought on it, he realized they were wearing a similar costume. In particular, the burlap head with black floss stitched across the mouth stood out. “I assumed people liked scarecrows here.”
“They do,” Adam said softly. “In a way. Stitches is sort of our town mascot.” He brushed his fingers over the gold part of the brass where a bent knee stuck out. Then, Adam leaped to sit on the pedestal at Stitches’ feet. “Would you like to hear the tale?”
“There’s a tale?” Raj was hooked in an instant.
Adam snickered. “Every good small town monster has to come with a spooky story. A young farm girl would cut through the fields every day to make it into town. On her path, she’d come across a scarecrow in the corn hanging off a wooden cross. She’d call out, ‘Hello, Stitches,’ then be on her way. Every day, come rain or shine. ‘Hello, Stitches.’ One Halloween night, her fortunes changed for the ill.”
A twisted grin plied with Adam’s lips, and his eyes crackled from below his brow. “Our sweet farm girl was attending a Halloween party. One of those Victorian fairs where you bob for apples, wear bed sheets, and stick pins in people. She was having so much fun, she didn’t realize how late the hour had drawn—midnight. Her friends pleaded with her to spend the night, but her mother was ill and she wanted to get back. Certain in her path, the girl set out into the night.”
“Never to return?” Raj guessed.
“Now, don’t go ruining the tale. Her path was safe until she got a few miles out of town. There, a pack of dangerous men who couldn’t take a no if their life depended on it found her. She pleaded for them to let her go back to her ailing mother, but they penned her in between their horses. The men tore off her witch’s hat, tattered her dress, all while jeering in her face.”
Fully invested, Raj sat beside Adam. He could hear the hooves pounding on dirt, the farm girl’s panicked pleas, the jeering laughter of men who didn’t deserve this world. “What happened?” he asked, terrified of the answer.
