Page 43 of Something Cryptid This Way Comes
Huddled close to Bram, I gaze out the window. Sheets of rain pound the sidewalk and street. A flash of lightning arcs across the sky, followed by a heavy boom of thunder.
Sprawled on the bench seat, he strokes his hand through my hair. “I’m sorry the weather’s keeping people away.”
“Me too. Not that I blame them. It’s a mess out there.”
We’re on night four of our seven-day run. Our highest volume is always on Friday and Saturday, so I wasn’t expecting large numbers for a Tuesday night, but we’ve only had ten people. And none in the last two hours.
Bram’s been sweet, sitting here with me, waiting to scan tickets. We’ve talked about what areas to investigate next, and have passed the time by sorting through the photos we took at Zeke’s property two days ago. We found a full impression of a sneaker sole in the dirt, other partial prints that match up tothe same sole pattern, and short, dark synthetic hair strands around the area we saw the costumed figure by the fence.
The sound of a fresh round of raindrops smacking the front window as the wind changes direction and the sight of the very empty street is the cap on the night.
“That’s it, I’m calling it.” I grab my phone off the bench. “I’ll put out a post saying we’re closing early due to the weather. There’s only one hour to go. No one else is coming out in this.”
Another bolt of lightning, another crash of thunder, so loud, it sounds like it’s right over us, is a sign the universe agrees with me.
Bram rubs his hand up and down my back as I type. “I’m sure the people who didn’t make it here tonight will come another day.”
“I hope so.” Leaning into him, I press send. “Let’s close up. The dogs will be happy to see us home early. Bandit doesn’t like storms.”
“Neither does Hades. The four of us can cuddle in your bed and watch that show they like.”
“You can head back now if you want. I can close up alone.”
He shakes his head, then stands, and grasps my hand to pull me to my feet. “I have an idea. A dark and stormy night makes great ambiance. Let’s take advantage of it and walk through the house, experience it together.”
“You want us to pretend we’re ticket holders?”
“No pretending.” He thumbs through screens on his phone. The hotel’s site opens, and he navigates to the page for the haunted house. Then taps the button to purchase tickets.
Swamped by the sweetness of his gesture, I lay my hand on his forearm. “Bram, you don’t have to buy a ticket.”
“Of course I do. There.” He purchases two. “Now that’s twelve tickets for tonight.”
As soon as he lowers his phone, I pull him into my arms. “That’s incredibly nice of you. I’ll have to make sure you have a good time.”
Splaying his hand on my chest, he brushes his finger over the medallion. “You’re here, so that’s already a given.”
Oh, this man. What am I supposed to do when he says such swoon-worthy things? Warmth spreads throughout my body. The softness of his borrowed flannel gives way to the heat of his skin and then the softness of his hair. Cradling his head, I lower my mouth to his.
Bram kisses me back, slow and thorough. His other hand is on the waistband of my jeans. He hooks his finger through my belt loop, like he wants to keep me against him.
More thunder rumbles over us and the lights flicker.
I raise my head. “That flicker isn’t part of our effects. Come on, let’s walk through. I’m afraid we’re going to lose power.”
We enter the first room, a maze of gray walls and blueish light that flickers and jumps. Creepy violin music plays at an increasingly faster tempo. A cold rush of air hits us at the first turn of the maze, startling us and raising goose bumps.
The low ramp we added to this room changes the floor’s incline by the smallest degrees and the tilt of some of the maze walls adds to further create a funhouse effect. The projector throws out dark shadows that look like figures peering around every corner.
Though I know we’re alone here, they give the impression that we aren’t. Clutching Bram tight, I take each turn of the maze afraid that someone will jump out at us. His hesitant steps reflect my unease. The fear and worried anticipation of what might be waiting for us around every dark, spooky corner is part of the fun.
Fog greets us in the next room, rolling out along the floor. Green and purple lights reflect the colors of the fabricsdraped on the walls. This room is much colder, plunging in temperature compared to the last. The spectral figure of a woman forms out of the mist. Clad in white with dark orbs for eyes, she drifts closer, heading right for us.
Beside me, Bram stiffens. Knowing she’s created by a two-way mirror doesn’t take away from the magic of the effect. A gust of air hits us seconds before the woman vanishes, with her arms outstretched.
Shuddering, Bram wraps his arm around my waist. “Yeah, she was spooky.”
That leads us into a room with multiple mirrors, reflecting an infinite number of images of Bram and me. The lights flash on and off with the buzzing hum of an old bulb. The scent of decaying flowers and graveyard dirt add to the discomfort.
