But he’s already telling me, “Lock yourself in Rose’s car and drive to your parent’s house with your sisters.”
“No.” I shake my head fiercely. He left himself out. “Come with me.”
“We have to make sure they don’t escape, Lil,” he says quickly. “This ends tonight.”
Tears sting my eyes. “I’m not leaving you,” I croak.
Lo whispers rapidly, “They’re not going to kill me, love. They’re just teenagers.”
My chin quivers. “That’s what I thought, but the more I think about it…”
“Lily,” he forces my name so I understand. “They’re just like me.”
I can’t say that Lo would’ve never done this. If pushed to a breaking point, he might have. If drunk enough, he most likely would have too. “You’re not like them anymore,” I tell him.
“I was like them,” he amends. “And I’m not scared of a single one. But you are.”
“I’m not,” I refute. “I was never scared of you.”
“Lil,” he smiles weakly. A decision has to be made soon. Before they destroy all of our valuables.
“If you won’t come with me, can I come with you?” I ask, sidestepping every sexual innuendo in favor of fear. “Moffy has toys inside. I can distract him—”
“Okay,” he agrees before I even finish. “But only because they’re just teenagers. Otherwise, you’d be in a car right now, understand?”
I nod. He’s not afraid that they’ll do something to me and Moffy, he’s saying. Or else he wouldn’t even chance this. He clutches my wrist and begins to guide me behind him, shielding my body by keeping me very close to his back.
I glance once over my shoulder, and I notice Rose and Connor following, in a similar line, with Rose behind Connor to protect Jane. It’s one of the few times I’ve seen her walk behind her husband and not beside him.
Ryke and Daisy are the only two that don’t join us. He lifts my petrified sister in his arms, cradling her easily, and he carries her to the garage, where they can drive off in one of the cars. Lo wanted all the girls to flee, like in the horror movies, but reality is a bit different than that. It might seem stupid, but being by his side, not splitting up, sounds right.
Lo grips me hard, maybe worried that I’ll break away. But I want to stay pressed against him as we enter through the sliding door.
When we near, a gargoyle-masked teenager whizzes past with “spirit fingers” and darts upstairs. I almost startle backwards, but Lo pulls me closer to his body.
This ends tonight.
I really, really hope so.
{ 63 }
LOREN HALE
My son’s distressed cries are nails in my eardrums. I can’t stand it. The sound triggers my flight-or-fight response and elevates my pulse. I’m not running away. I want to run towards them. Wherever they’re hiding.
After stepping into the house, I guide Lily to the living room. Jesus fucking Christ—they’ve cut up the couch with a knife, foam poking through the cushions.
“They’re morons,” Connor says, his voice tight.
“Morons with knives,” Rose retorts, her brows pinching in anxiety. She taps her heel repeatedly on the floor.
Someone shouts “BOO!” at the top of the staircase.
Trying to be creepy, they cock their gargoyle head, masked and empty-handed. Police should be here soon. Maybe in a couple minutes. We have no time to block every exit, but if I grab one, he’ll rat out his friends.
“I have this,” I tell them. I can barely meet Lily’s gaze without all of my muscles coiling—a natural instinct to shield her. To ensure that no one will touch her. Or my son. But I have to do this.
As I force myself away from her side, Lily scoots closer to her sister. Bouncing Moffy in her arms. For some reason, I expect Connor to distrust me, to step in. To take control of the situation. But he gives me a single nod and then whispers to Rose in French. He zips Rose’s fur coat, hiding their daughter beneath it.
I attempt to exhale the rock in my chest. It’s nearly impossible. I just head to the banister, the staircase tall and wide, and the teenager towers above me at the top. His red Vans match the ones I wear. I scrutinize his lanky frame, his gray jeans, black crew neck and dark blue gargoyle mask.
With about twenty stairs separating us, the teenager slowly extends his arm and points at me. He thinks he can freak me out.
He can’t. “It’s not going to happen,” I tell him flatly. I’ve never been frightened of horror movies. Never been terrified of the dark. I’ve always considered myself a bigger monster than every creature on Halloween.