21. Presley
Presley
“You look like hell.” Gracie stares at me like she’s trying to decipher hieroglyphics in a cave.
I stare at her from across the counter. “Good morning to you, too.”
She slides my coffee toward me. “I’m serious.”
“Is that supposed to make it better?”
She shrugs. “You have bags under your eyes.”
“Thank you.”
“Your hair looks like you slept on it while it was wet.”
“I didn’t wash it.”
“Oh.”
I narrow my eyes. “Stop helping.”
Gracie laughs.
Penny sits at my feet beside Walter.
The two of them are sniffing each other like they haven’t seen one another in years instead of approximately twelve hours.
I take a long drink of coffee. It does absolutely nothing to improve the three hours of sleep I managed last night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that mask.
Bone-white.
Hollow black eyes.
The masked man standing between the trees, watching me.
I tighten my fingers around the cup.
Gracie’s smile fades, morphing into concern. “Seriously, are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You don't look okay.”
“I didn’t sleep well.”
“Nightmares?”
“Something like that.”
Her eyebrows pull together.
I immediately look down at my coffee.
Tell her.
The words sit on the tip of my tongue.
There was a masked man outside my house, watching me.
Instead, I say, “I think everything is just catching up with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Grandma. Moving back. School being on hold. Starting a new job.”
All true.
Just not the whole truth.
Gracie’s expression softens. “Presley.”
“I’m fine.”
She gives me the same look Stella gives me whenever I say that.
“I am.”
“You're allowed to not be.”
“I know.”
The masked man flashes through my mind again.
I should tell someone.
But what exactly would I say?
That he stood in the woods?
That he moved toward my house?
That he disappeared before I could call the police?
He never touched me. Never threatened me. Never even spoke to me.
Maybe that’s why it feels so strange.
He scared the hell out of me. But some part of me keeps replaying the way he stood there, focused entirely on me.
I hate that part.
I really hate that part.
Or so I tell myself.
“Go tonight.”
I blink. “What?”
Gracie points toward a flyer taped beside the register. “Pumpkin carving.”
“I don't know.”
“Why not?”
“I’m tired.”
“Exactly.”
“That makes no sense.”
“You need to get out of the house.”
My eyes flick toward her. She doesn’t know how right she is.
“I was out yesterday.”
“You worked.”
“I also spent part of my evening trapped in a storage room.”
Her mouth falls open.
“It was fine.” I wave my hand.
It wasn’t fine, but I’m not telling her that.
“You just said you were trapped.”
“The door sticks.”
“You were trapped inside.”
“Hades got it open.”
Gracie’s eyebrows shoot up.
I immediately regret mentioning that part.
“Hades?”
“Yes.”
“He was there?”
“Yes.”
“At night?”
“Gracie.”
“What?”
“It’s a bookstore, not a sex dungeon.”
She nearly chokes.
A smile curls my lips.
“Your mind is diseased.”
“You brought up Hades.”
“You said he opened the door.” She stares at me. “And then?”
“And then nothing.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Seriously.”
Her grin widens.
I point at the sign. “Pumpkin carving, huh?”
“Oh, now you want to discuss that.”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” She gestures toward Walter and Penny. “These two can stay here with me.”
I look down.
Penny is currently trying to shove her head beneath Walter’s ear. Walter just stands there, appearing resigned to his fate.
“You’re working tonight.”
“Until eight. The carving starts at five. Vendors, food, music. They close off half the street.”
“I don’t know.”
“You like Halloween.”
“I do.”
“You like pumpkins.”
“Yes.”
“You like food.”
“That’s offensive.”
“Accurate.”
I sigh.
Gracie leans across the counter. “Go. Have fun for a few hours.”
My gaze drops to Penny. She looks perfectly content.
Maybe Gracie is right. Sitting alone in Grandma’s house tonight sounds considerably less appealing than it did twenty-four hours ago.
“Fine.”
Gracie beams.
“But if I carve the ugliest pumpkin there, I’m blaming you.”
“Deal.”
By six thirty, I’ve learned two things.
One, I’m terrible at carving pumpkins.
Two, I’m having fun anyway.
Music plays from speakers near the center of downtown.
Families move between vendors carrying cider, caramel apples, kettle corn, and enough pumpkin-flavored food to sustain Hollow Creek until Christmas.
Long tables line the blocked-off street. Dozens of people sit around them carving pumpkins.
Mine looks constipated.
“This is embarrassing.”
The man sitting across from me laughs. “I think he has character.”
“He looks like he needs medical attention.”
“He’s expressive.”
“He’s suffering.”
The guy smiles. His name is Caleb.
At least, I think it is.
He introduced himself ten minutes ago, but I was busy trying not to slice my thumb open.
He’s attractive.
Brown hair. Blue eyes. Nice smile.
And completely harmless-looking.
Which apparently does nothing for me anymore.
Because instead of noticing any of those things, my mind supplies smoky gray eyes and a man who looks vaguely homicidal even while drinking coffee.
Fantastic.
Caleb gestures toward my pumpkin. “You need help?”
“I need divine intervention.”
“I can fix him.”
“No.”
His eyebrows rise.
“I created this nightmare. I’m finishing it.”
He laughs.
I smile and resume carving.
From the corner of my eye, I see a flash of white.
My hand stops.
I turn my head, eyes searching the crowd.
And then I see him.
He’s across the street, between two groups of people.
His masked face is turned directly toward me.
My stomach drops.
I look at Caleb to see if he noticed.
But he’s busy carving his pumpkin.
When I turn back to that spot... he’s gone.
People move past vendor booths.
A woman wearing a witch hat pushes a stroller.
Teenagers laugh near a cider stand.
But there’s no masked man dressed in black.
“Everything okay?”
I realize Caleb is watching me.
“Yeah.” I force a smile. “Thought I saw someone I knew.”
Technically true.
Well, sort of.
I turn back to my pumpkin.
My hand isn't as steady as it was before.
An hour later, I see him again.
This time, he’s near the edge of the crowd.
He stands out because he’s so tall and broad.
He’s wearing a black hoodie and the same white mask, looking directly at me.
My breath catches.
Someone walks between us carrying a giant stuffed spider.
When they pass—
He’s gone.
I stand, my chair scraping against the pavement.
“Presley?”
I barely hear Caleb.
I’m too busy scanning the crowd, looking for him.
Nothing.
“What the hell?”
“Did you lose someone?”
“No.” I slowly sit down, my heart pounding.
Maybe he isn't here.
Maybe I'm seeing masks because I spent half the night awake, thinking about a masked man lurking around my house.
I blow out a breath, trying to rationalize it.
Maybe it’s not him.
It's Halloween Week, after all.
Lots of people are wearing costumes. Masks aren't exactly unusual tonight.
Except I know that mask.
Or I think I do.
That’s the problem.
I’m no longer sure what I actually see and what my brain is creating for me.
“Want some cider?”
I look at Caleb.
“What?”
He gestures toward the vendor. “I’m getting one.”
“Oh. No thanks.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
He smiles.
“I’ll be back.”
As soon as he walks away, I immediately search the crowd again.
No masked man.
A strange disappointment settles beneath the relief.
I hate myself a little for that.
By nine, the festival is shutting down. Vendors fold tables. The music has stopped. Families have mostly disappeared.
I donated my pumpkin to a little girl who seemed to love it despite its constipated expression.
Maybe I can buy some pumpkins and practice carving at home. Set a few on my porch like Michael Myers—
Nope. Not thinking about horror movies.
I’m on a self-imposed ban.
Cold air bites through my coat. I shove my hands into my pockets and start toward Bramble & Bean.
I'm farther from the coffee shop than I realized.
Of course.
Apparently, my terrible sense of direction gets even worse after dark.
“Presley.”
I turn to see Caleb behind me.
He jogs toward me.
“Oh. Hey.”
“Heading home?”
“In a bit. I need to pick up Penny.”
“I can walk with you.”
“That’s okay.”
“It’s late.”
“It’s only a few blocks.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I’m good. Really.”
His smile stays in place. But something about it feels different now.
“I don’t mind.”
I’m getting annoyed. “That’s okay. Night.”
I turn away and start walking faster.
Footsteps sound behind me.
I glance back to find Caleb trailing me.
Jesus. Can’t he take a hint?
I whip around, walking even faster.
His footsteps speed up behind me.
My stomach tightens.
Don't panic.
Maybe his car is this way.
Or maybe he has to go this direction to get home.
Maybe—
“Presley.”
I don't stop.
“Hey.”
I take off in a jog, my heart thudding faster. I told him I’m good. Yet he’s still following me.
There’s an alley ahead that cuts behind several stores and comes out half a block from Bramble & Bean.
I shouldn't take it.
Every horror movie I've ever watched screams that I shouldn't.
But it’s a shortcut to where I need to go.
I look over my shoulder. Caleb is closer.
“Shit.”
I turn sharply and duck into the alley.
Dim light spills from one security lamp above a back door. Brick walls rise on either side. Trash cans line one edge. The far opening seems much farther away than I remember.
This was a stupid idea.
Footsteps enter the alley behind me.
My pulse spikes.
I look over my shoulder, walking away from the sound—
And slam into something solid.
A scream catches in my throat.
Hands grip my upper arms before I fall.
I jerk my head up.
A white masked face stares down at me, empty eyes boring into mine.
My heart stops. “No—”
“Don’t scream.” The voice is wrong. Mechanical and distorted, like he’s using some type of voice-changing device.
A shiver tears through me.
But I’m not sure it’s just fear that’s rolling through me.
My eyes rake over him.
The same black hoodie, black jeans, and heavy boots he wore the other night. And that bone-white skeletal face leaves no doubt that this is the man from the woods.
The masked man outside my bedroom.
He's here.
Right in front of me.
Close enough I could touch him if he wasn’t holding my arms.