Dead End: Midnight Hollow

by Penn Cassidy

  A shadow moved in my peripheral, and I stiffened. The crunch of soil underfoot was slow and deliberate. That shadow quickly became a man, and his face was inches from mine in less than a heartbeat.

  “Mayor Ichabod?” I breathed in disbelief, eyes going wide. “What are you—”

  “What am I doing here?” he sneered with a slow, creepy smile. “I find it adorable that you even have to ask.” His laugh was slimy, and there was something strange about his face that I couldn’t put my finger on.

  “What do you want from me? Why am I here?” My voice came out a whisper as panic took hold of me, making it hard to draw in a proper breath.

  He laughed again, and it made my stomach roll. Stepping backwards into the moonlight, I could see that he was bare chested under an open white frilly dress shirt, and down the front of his torso was a bleeding wound that dripped down his abdomen. It didn’t look deep, but it looked self inflicted, if the bloody athame in his hand had anything to do with it.

  “Calvin, you never told me she’s as stupid as she is pretty.” His eyes were staring at me a little too close for comfort, then they shifted off to the side for a moment, and my blood boiled. So Cal was still here.

  I saw movement from beside Ichabod, and my breath caught as three familiar clowns moved into position at the cemetery gates in the distance. Each of them I recognized as the ones from outside that motel on the first night. They were dressed in their usual jumpsuits and were twirling around blunt force weapons and machetes in their meaty hands. Payton’s family was here.

  Through the fog covering the ground came a shadow skipping into the clearing, pigtails bobbing on the side of her head. Red lips pulled in a sinister smile spread wide, past the point of normal. A bristle of fabric, and Payton appeared next to my parents’ headstone as she waved her pom-poms, little sharp knives embedded into the shiny material around them. Payton’s eyes met mine, and she swirled around, her cheerleading skirt billowing around her legs as she started to dance in place like she was at a prep rally. She was fucking crazy.

  “Gimme an M!” she squealed. “Gimme an O.R.T.A.L!” she added with a chuckle and a shake of her pom-poms. “So I can kill her!” Payton cheered dramatically, laughing like she would never stop. A screw had to be loose in that head of hers.

  A woman was right there on her heels, wearing a Society cloak, and I recognized her immediately as Payton’s mother. They looked nearly identical, but her mother somehow held more hatred in her purple eyes, which was aimed right towards me. Unless she was staring at Ichabod, then she seemed entranced and besotted.

  “You didn’t think I brought you all the way out here without a little backup, did you?” Ichabod asked, gesturing to Payton’s family, who grinned with the same fucking smile.

  I quirked a defiant brow. “That’s a really weird way to say you have a small dick.”

  Nice one, October. Now he’s gonna make it hurt...

  His grin dropped instantly like a flip was switched, and he approached the bars, a maniacal gleam in his eyes. “You’re just like your father with that mouth of yours.”

  “Is that why you dragged me all the way out here?” I laughed, pretending to be braver than I was, but it sounded hollow to my own ears. “You had a crush on my mother twenty years ago, and you still can’t get over the fact that you lost to my dad?” My eyes flickered over his face, unimpressed just to piss him off. “It’s becoming clear she chose right.”

  “How dare you! Take that back. He is the most wonderful, most handsome and powerful warlock to ever exist, you bitch!” Payton’s mother screeched with outrage, but I only rolled my eyes at her.

  She was a fucking lovestruck idiot, who couldn’t see how she was never going to get a chance with that loon.

  “Righhhhttt. How could I be so stupid?” Sarcasm was heavy in my voice, and it was probably going to get me killed.

  “You little b—” Ichabod hissed, his eyes murderous.

  “Father!” came Cal’s voice from behind my stone cage. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear him as if he were right next to me. “It’s time to start the ritual.”

  “What ritual, you sick fuck?!” I watched in horror as Ichabod backed away. “What ritual!” I screamed, pounding desperately against the stone. “My family is going to tear you to fucking pieces when they find out!” I threatened and knew they would.

  “You have a lot of faith in your lovers, Miss Hallowell, but you’d be wrong of course. See, right now, I have one of my associates keeping them distracted for me.” Dread pooled once more, and he laughed again, holding out his athame to his side. “Don’t fret, my dear. I won’t be needing you for long, just long enough to complete the ritual. Then we can bury you six feet under, just like dear old daddy.” He pointed down the hill, and it was then that I saw the freshly dug grave.

  Fuck, I’m going to die.

  Calvin appeared around the side of my coffin and took the athame from his father’s hands, making it a point to avoid my glare, but I hissed, “Fuck you, Calvin. We treated you like a friend… We welcomed you into our home. And Maddie—” I choked, throat closing with the need to cry. I fought against it.

  His head whipped towards me, and his amber eyes were blazing. “Don’t you bring her into this,” he snapped. “Just stand still and shut up, October.”

  “Fuck you!” This time I literally spat right between the bars, but he took a step back and dodged it with a grimace.

  “There’s no need to be feral,” Ichabod said. “And here I thought all you necromancers were uppity snobs just like David Grimm. I guess being raised among those savage mortals will do that to a young girl.” He clicked his tongue a few times. “Pity…”

  “Ichabod, the moons…” Payton’s mother stepped forward with a pleading look on her face. She was carrying some kind of dark velvet bag, and she handed it to the mayor. Payton stood there watching me with a smug smile on her clown face, and I wanted nothing more than to break her teeth in.

  The moons, she’d said. I looked up, and sure enough, the two moons were moving closer together, nearly overlapping. I supposed this must be this world’s version of an eclipse. A blood moon eclipse. I surmised that Ichabod had been waiting for this night in particular, because everyone who knew anything about even the most basic witchcraft knew that the power of the moon meant everything. The moon could control the tides and the blood in a body.

  That’s it… The athame. Ichabod’s doing blood magic.

  Holy shit, this was bad. I’d read about blood magic after the aunties kept dropping hints about it. It was dark stuff, even darker than necromancy. It was forbidden in the witch and warlock communities, and considered taboo for thousands of years.

  “Why are you doing this, Ichabod?” I asked. “If you’re going to kill me anyway, can’t you at least tell me what I’ll be dying for?”

  He faced me with a confused expression. My body was racked with shivers at the gleam in his eyes. “Would you like me to give you the big villainous play by play so you can somehow figure out a way to pull a miracle out of nowhere and thwart me? How very…mortal of you.” He laughed madly. “I don’t think so, Miss Hallowell. Now sit tight. You’ll be dead shortly.”

  “You’re disgusting,” I snapped, my breathing shallow because this was it—the end. I’d just found love again, and I was going to die without telling each of my guys how much they truly meant to me.

  Ichabod ignored me, instead turning his attention first to the moons and then to Cal. “Now, Calvin,” he demanded.

  I watched Cal’s entire body stiffen. He came towards me with dread in his dark eyes and approached the bars with the athame in his hands. “Give me your palm,” he said, hardly able to look me in the eyes, the coward.

  “Go to hell!” I whispered hoarsely past the lump in my throat.

  “October…” His voice lowered to a whisper, and his suddenly panicked eyes flickering to where his father had his back to us, preparing for the ritual. “I’m gonna get you out of this,” he pr
omised, his eyes unyielding and hard.

  I blinked, not comprehending. Was this a joke?

  His voice lowered even more as he said, “I sent someone to get your friends, but I can’t stall my father for much longer.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I sneered. “You kidnapped me, you prick. Who does that?”

  “I didn’t have a choice.” His jaw was clenched tight, but his eyes flickered nervously to his father again. “October, I don’t have time to explain, but I’m so sorry for my role in this. I’m going to help you. He’s got this sick obsession with—” He stopped nervously.

  “With what, Cal? What the hell is he trying to do?”

  His face dropped, and my stomach clenched as he said, “He’s trying to raise your mother from her grave.”

  Every muscle in my body locked up. The world seemed to go silent as a cold fury seeped through me. He wanted to raise my mother? She’s been dead for a year. There wasn’t much left by now to even raise. This man was truly sick.

  Cal kept going. “He’s convinced the only reason she chose David was because he used his powers to force her. He actually believes she would have chosen him. It’s a fucking obsession, but he can only bring her back with the blood of a necromancer. It’s the only way to complete the ritual during an eclipse.”

  “If all this is true, why would you want to help me? What do you get out of going against your own dad for someone you barely even know?” I was stalling, pulling at the last thread of hope.

  He sighed heavily. “Believe it or not, I do have a fucking conscience. He’s had me going along with this shit since you got here, and I’ve done my best to throw him off, but he’d kill me if he found out.” His eyes held mine, and I could see the truth.

  His father was a psychopath, and Cal had been at the end of that for who knew how long. I almost felt bad.

  “Where are the guys and Maddie? What about my aunties?” I asked, needing to know if they were safe at least.

  “Hopefully on their way. I sent someone to get them, but he’s a little…dumb.” He cringed, biting his lip worriedly.

  “Oh my fucking god,” I groaned. “You’re talking about that freaky marionette dummy, Roger, aren't you? I can’t believe this shit is happening…”

  “Give me your hand before he gets suspicious.”

  “I’m not handing over my blood, Calvin. Fuck off.” The fucker didn’t deserve a nickname, so calling him by his name seemed appropriate.

  He shook his head. “I’m not going to use your blood, but I need to make it look like I am. Give me your hand.”

  I contemplated it for a moment. I wasn’t sure I could trust him. I wanted to, but after kidnapping me and letting his father place me in this cage… But what choice did I have? I held my palm to the iron bars. They were just wide enough to get my hand through, and Cal grasped my wrist gently. Using his body to cover us, I watched him slip a little pocket knife from his sleeve and make a slit on my palm. I winced, and yanked my hand back.

  Cal pocketed the knife and held the athame out in front of him, pulling up his own sleeve and making a slit in his forearm. The athame was bathed in Cal’s own blood as I watched with wide eyes. He winced as he put his sleeve back into place to cover up the cut and then met my eyes.

  “I’m sorry for my part… I don’t want to see you get hurt. My dad…he’s not been right in the head for a while now, and he’s deluded himself into thinking your mom can come back. I just can’t stop him alone.” He pleaded with me to understand, and in a way, I kind of did. Family was family, and you couldn’t help who you cared about.

  “You should have told me a long time ago, Calvin,” I gritted out, peeved about all the lies, but at least he was helping me now. “Just stall him until everyone gets here. Please.”

  “I’ll try. My blood should throw him off when the ritual doesn’t work. He needs to place her soul back into the body, but without your blood, all he can do is raise empty shells,” he said, shuddering

  “The zombies?” Holy shit…so that whole thing at the theater had been Ichabod all along? The morgue? It was all making sense.

  “Yes. My father can raise corpses, but not souls. Only necromancers can control those. It’s why blood magic like this is forbidden. It’s sick and twisted, and he needs to be stopped.” At least we agreed on that part.

  “Is he going to raise my mom's body?” My voice trembled, terrified. I didn’t want to see that. I didn’t think any part of me could handle having that image in my brain.

  Cal shook his head. “I hope not. I placed a ward around their graves, but I don’t know if it’s strong enough to hold. I may be a warlock, but I’m not as strong as my father. My specialty is mainly potions, but I did what I could to hold him off. If he breaks through it…” It was out of his hands and we were doomed if that happened.

  “Just get me out of here,” I said as I stared at that fresh hole just for me.

  “Hold on, okay?” He gripped the bar and stepped back after a second.

  “Cal,” I choked out, a single tear racing down my cheek, “don’t let him bring her back. Kill me if you have to, but don’t let him do that to my mom.”

  His eyes held mine, and in them, I could tell he was telling me the truth. I could feel the remorse and the guilt rolling off of him in waves. “I’ll try, I promise.”

  With that, he turned around with the bloody athame and made his way to his father, who was waiting for him impatiently. By now, the twin moons were eclipsing, and the sky began to change. There were no stars visible overhead, and clouds rolled in much too fast to be natural. I watched as Ichabod dropped to his knees next to my mother’s headstone. He dragged a palm along his bloody chest and then wiped it off on the graveyard dirt. He took that little bag Payton’s mother had handed him earlier and scattered what looked like herbs around the dirt. Taking the athame from Calvin, Ichabod stared at it with a wide smile.

  A crack of thunder split the night, making me jump. The once orange moons were turning the creepiest shade of electric green. Thunder crashed again as Ichabod began chanting. His voice was low and trembling, and I didn’t understand the words, but somehow, my body recognized them. He was reciting a necromancy spell, something ancient, something he shouldn’t be messing with. Dark magic was thick and sticky in the air, making it hard to breathe.

  I was banging against the stone walls, screaming and thrashing.

  “Let me out of here, you sick fuck!” I pleaded with a shout.

  Dread washed over me in waves as green tinged lightning shot across the sky and clouds swirled overhead like the eye of a hurricane. The ground began to rumble as if something was coming.

  There was a commotion that cut through Ichabod’s chanting, but he didn’t stir, his once clear amber eyes now inky black. The clowns standing guard at the cemetery gates burst into action as a werewolf barreled into one, and a massive black shape curled around the throat of the one who loved popping balloon animals. I felt like crying, screaming, and laughing all at once as Freddy grappled with one of the clowns. He dodged the swinging machete heading towards his head, and his howl rent the air as he crouched low and sprung over the clown's head. Then he stopped short when the clown spun around fast and held the machete under Freddy’s chin.

  Michael’s dark magic traveled straight from his palms, a black fire burning as he stood there chanting under his breath. His snake familiar wrapped around balloon popping clown’s neck, until he fell to his knees from the tight grip.

  “Norman!” I shouted, banging on the stone. “Norman, Jason!”

  They came through the gates, Norman tearing the clown with sharp knives away from Freddy with a speed that was almost a blur, then he yelled something unintelligible at his brother. I watched Freddy shake blood from his muzzle and look my way. They couldn’t see me inside this fucking box, so I kept calling their names. Jason was already running towards me. His eyes were bright yellow, channeling Damon, as he vaulted over headstones like something out of the Olympics.

/>   I saw the clown with the blood dripping down his chin step right into Jason’s path with a scary as hell giggle. Jason skidded to a stop, his eyes impossibly wide as he stared down his greatest fear.

  “Your fear smells delicious, demon. Can’t wait to tear you open and eat your insides.”

  “The only thing tearing up my insides is my girl. She’s already ripped my heart out, so you’ll have to fight her for it. Too bad you're about to die,” Jason taunted in a strong, steady voice, and his body started vibrating until a dark purple smoke rolled off his skin and Damon suddenly shuddered out of his body.

  “Ah, now I can smell the fear. Run away little clown, because this demon’s hungry to suck your soul out, mate.” Damon’s catlike yellow eyes narrowed on the clown, who actually started shaking in his big red clown shoes.

  It was like Damon was a ghost. Jason’s mirror image was nearly transparent as he stepped into the clown's body. The clown started shaking like he was having a seizure, his machete dropping to the ground. I watched, holding my breath, and had to close my eyes when blood started pouring out of the clown’s mouth, ears, and eyes. I heard a loud tearing sound with a painfully deep moan of agony, and then nothing. Opening my eyes, it was only to see Jason spitting on the ground, which was covered with the insides of the clown. Oh god, he exploded him from the inside out!

  The ground rumbled and the coffin jostled, knocking me around and threatening to send me toppling over. I heard a horrible cracking noise and strained to see through the bars. Ichabod was still chanting like a fight wasn’t breaking out around him. The moons were fully eclipsed as fingers started to sprout from the surrounding graves.

  I watched as Payton and her mom yelped in tandem and scrambled back, leaping atop a stone monument and squatting there while bony hands reached skyward. Grotesque, gnarled bodies followed in their wake, moaning and groaning when their decaying heads crested the surface, rotting flesh hanging off their limbs.

  “No, no, no!” I screamed desperately. “Freddy!”

  He was close now, and at the sound of my voice, he stopped running, his wolf ears perking up. Our eyes met as he let out a low grumble and headed to my coffin on four legs to gain speed. His claws gripped the bars, and he pulled with his hairy forearms straining, trying to get me out, but the coffin was too heavy and solid. Freddy howled into the air in frustration.