4. Damien
Damien
“Okay, spill. Who is the smokeshow with the orange streaks in her hair?”
I leaned toward Cassie, keeping my voice low enough that the guests milling through the tent couldn’t overhear. She followed my gaze.
The woman with the streaks of orange framing her face and the rest of her raven hair had reunited with her friends and were making their way toward the back of the tent.
Cassie smiled. “That’s Luci.”
I waited. “Yes, I gathered as much. Who is she? You obviously know her.”
She blinked. “Luci Addams?”
She waited, expecting an “ah ha!” moment of recognition from me, but I got nothing.
“You know…” She made a snapping motion with her fingers. “…Spooky Ooky Luci?”
I stared at her. “Cass.”
“What?”
“I have absolutely no idea what any of that means.”
Luca’s head snapped around so fast I thought his neck might actually pop.
“No fucking way, dude.”
“There is, in fact, a way,” I answered.
“You don’t know who Spooky Ooky Luci is?” Jack chimed in from the other side of our brother.
“I just said I didn’t.”
“You really live under a fucking rock,” Luca said with a head shake.
“Someone get this man on Instagram,” Jack added. “Though, I will admit, it took me a sec to figure out who she was without her Wednesday braids.”
“The what?” I questioned.
Everything they were saying right now sounded like gibberish. I just wanted to know who she was and how everyone but me seemed to know her.
“The braids!” Luca exclaimed, as if that explained everything. “In all her reviews she does her own version of Wednesday Addams.”
He held his hands beside his face, mimicking braided pigtails.
“Black-and-white outfits. Deadpan humor. The whole spooky aesthetic.”
Daniele agreed. “Yeah, I don’t know why I expected her to show up like that. I didn’t expect fishnets and a Camp Crystal Lake shirt.”
“Her leather jacket was badass though,” Cassie chimed in.
“Oh, and her last name is actually Addams,” Luca added. “She’s basically horror royalty around New England right now.”
“Royalty,” I repeated flatly.
“Local royalty,” he corrected.
“She reviews haunted attractions, Halloween events, abandoned places—”
“Real haunted places,” Daniele added.
“She’ll spend the night in an abandoned prison if someone tells her it’s haunted.”
“My kind of crazy,” Jack said.
Something tightened beneath my ribs. I looked at Jack. My baby brother. The same kid I’d watch eat dirt on a dare when he was seven years old. There was absolutely no justifiable reason for the sudden urge to tell him to shut the fuck up.
He hadn’t even said anything. Not really. ‘My kind of crazy.’ That’s it. It was harmless. He’s probably going to forget he even made the comment before the conversation is over.
Still, I didn’t like it. Some irrational part of my brain had decided that I didn’t particularly care for my little brother thinking Luci Addams was his kind of anything.
Daniele smiled. “Her older videos are actually really charming. They’re very Blair Witch Project.”
She mimed holding an old camcorder.
“It’s just Luci, one of those girls over there, and an ancient handheld camera with terrible audio.”
She covertly pointed toward the group of them.
“They call themselves the Boo Crew.”
I glanced across the tent. The blonde one had somehow acquired a second bag of popcorn.
The brunette that had pulled Luci aside earlier was taking pictures of everything that didn’t move.
The one with curly reddish brown hair was deep in conversation with Luci.
It was normal. Comfortable. Like they’d been doing this together for years.
“They’re in a lot of her videos,” she continued. “They’re kind of part of the brand.”
There it is. They’d been talking her up, I knew there had to be a catch. Sure enough, she was too good to be true.
“So…” I folded my arms, annoyed with myself. “She’s an influencer.”
I couldn’t quite hide the skepticism. The word had started leaving a bad taste in my mouth sometime around our third season. The bigger Graves Park became, the more emails Carrie forwarded to us.
We’ll post if you comp tickets.
Can my boyfriend come for free too?
I’ll tag you if you upgrade us to VIP.
Some people genuinely loved horror. Others only seemed to love it if it came with free admission.
And, I understood we had to play the game the right way.
Despite my utter disdain for social media, I knew it served its purpose for the business.
As much as running this park was a labor of love, Sidney, who spent no time in the park and all of her time behind her computer worked just as hard in her home office as we did during haunt nights.
“She is,” Cassie confirmed, holding my gaze. “But she’s different.”
“Uh huh,” I said, ready to move on. I had been intrigued, but clout chasers were never going to be attractive to me.
“No, seriously,” Cassie said, still defending her.
“She genuinely loves horror. She has a horror book club. They pick a new book every month to read and then she hops on a Zoom call with everyone that wants to discuss the book. I’ve read a few of them in the off-season.
On Friday nights, she goes live and reviews classic horror movies.
She raises money for local animal shelters for black cats every Halloween.
She was doing this long before she had a huge platform…
I know I sound like a fan girl, but she’s the best kind of person to get a platform like the one she grew. ”
I looked at her. “You’re serious.”
“I’m serious.”
Then, a slow smile spread across her face. The kind that immediately made me suspicious.
“What?” I questioned.
“Oh, nothing,” she said quickly. Too quickly.
“Cass.”
“It’s just…” She folded her arms. “Sid called me yesterday to give me a heads-up Luci was coming.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Okay, and? I thought we established this?”
“I feel like you’re asking all of these questions for a reason,” she started.
And before I could argue back, she continued.
“I don’t care what your reason is. But I think you should know Luci tried to pay.
Sidney offered her the VIP package for her and her friends and Sidney had to basically argue with her to take them comped.
She didn’t want special treatment. She said she would absolutely come and review our park, but she didn’t expect anything for free.
And that’s exactly why Sid wanted to give her the passes. ”
“Hm.” It wasn’t much of a response, but it was all I had.
Because across the tent, Luci had accepted a cone of cotton candy from one of her friends. She tore off a cloud of pink sugar and laughed when it stuck to her fingertips. Then, she slipped two fingers into her mouth. The spun sugar disappeared.
Jesus Christ.
My jaw tightened as she frowned at her hand.
I looked away just as she licked the edge of her thumb.
“Careful, big bro,” Luca’s voice held far too much amusement. “You’re staring.”
Before I could make the situation infinitely worse the GONG! sound of the antique brass bell echoed through the tent. Every conversation stopped. Each guest turned toward the massive striped curtains separating the VIP tent from the midway beyond.
Showtime.
I climbed the weathered wooden platform overlooking the entrance. Below me, the crowd gathered with excited chatter. The lights dimmed on my cue. And it went silent again.
Two of our performers stepped into position at either side of the curtains.
On the left stood Madam Midnight, draped head to toe in layers of black lace and sequins, her face hidden beneath a mourning veil.
She raised a tattered black banner stitched with silver crescent moons.
On the right, The Harlequin Herald twirled an ebony flag with theatrical precision, his diamond-patterned costume weathered to look as though he’d wandered the midway for decades waiting to welcome lost souls.
Every eye in the tent found me. I rested one gloved hand atop my cane, drew one slow breath, then smiled.
Not Damien’s smile. The Ringmaster’s.
“Ladies and gentlemen…” My voice carried effortlessly beneath the canvas ceiling. “Boys and girls…” I swept my cane toward the towering striped curtains. “Welcome to Graves Park.”
A ripple of anticipation moved through the crowd.
“Tonight is no ordinary evening. Tonight is Blackout Night.”
A few nervous laughs drifted through the audience.
“Beyond these curtains, the lights are few, the shadows are many, and every path has a way of leading somewhere unexpected.”
I paced slowly across the platform.
“Our performers have spent the past year preparing an unforgettable evening for those brave enough to wander into their park.”
I leaned forward just enough for the front row to lean in with me.
“They’ve been waiting ever so patiently to meet you. So gather your courage, hold tightly to those you love…or don’t.”
I tapped the end of my cane against the wooden platform. Once. Twice. Three times.
“After all,” I lifted my arm toward the curtains, “everyone enters the carnival together.” The music cut. The silence in the tent was deafening and I fed on the energy around me. “But whether you leave together…”
I nodded toward Madam Midnight and The Harlequin Herald. “Well,” I finished. The black banners swept outward as the striped curtains slowly parted, revealing the fog-drenched midway glowing beneath thousands of amber lights. “That’s entirely up to the carnival.”