Ross immediately pointed to the first display containing an old-fashioned, horse-drawn hearse with glass sides for viewing the casket inside. Old, dusty silk flowers garnished the casket encased in the hearse.
“Can we have that?” he eagerly asked.
Devon nodded with approval and grinned. “That is pretty cool.”
“I suppose that would be an interesting addition to the dungeon displays,” Tyler replied.
Ross excitedly clapped his hands together then held them in the air. “Yes.”
“As long as it’s not completely rotted,” Tyler warned him. “I don’t want to waste too much time on that thing if it’s just going to fall apart while we move it.”
Ross nodded in agreement. They watched Tyler and Brant walk through the museum while checking out the other displays. Ross immediately ran into the old cemetery display and checked out the old-fashioned hearse with childlike enthusiasm. Devon joined him and helped check for rot and decay.
“Wax museums are creepy by themselves,” she informed Ross then looked around. “This one is in a whole other realm of creepy.”
As she looked around the old museum, she heard a loud creak. When she looked to where Ross had been standing, he was gone.
“Ross?”
She glanced beneath the hearse but he wasn’t there. She straightened and saw Ross inside the back behind the glass with the casket. His face was pressed against the glass while he pawed at her like a demented zombie. She rolled her eyes.
“Enough goofing around before you break it,” she scolded.
Ross climbed out of the back, creating the most hideous creaking sound from the old display. Devon approached the wax horse hitched to the hearse. She admired the leather harness and the dirty but elegant plume attached to the top of the bridle between the horse’s ears. She studied the black horse caked with dirt and cobwebs. The horse was almost a requirement for the rest of the display. Once cleaned, the set would look amazing. She ran her hand along the horse’s realistic coat and approached the head to take a better look at the decorative bridle. Being into horses, she was completely captivated by saddles, bridles, and other leather rigging.
“Must have been quite the undertaking making a wax horse,” Devon announced to Ross, who was somewhere behind her. “It’s so realistic.”
“I should probably--” Ross began as she reached the front of the horse.
Devon checked out the horse’s bridle and immediately saw a large portion of the shoulder had pulled away revealing actual bone. Devon cried out, jumped backward, and tripped over a fake tombstone. She stared at the horse while screaming and attempted to get her footing within the fake moss. Ross grabbed her under the arm and pulled her to her feet. She backed into Ross and stared at the horse while panting with horror.
“They, uh, use stuffed horses,” Ross remarked delicately.
She looked back at him with horror clearly on her face. “Oh, shit,” she cried out while attempting to turn her fear into anger. “That’s disgusting!”
“I’m not a fan of taxidermy myself,” Ross replied then shook his head. “But that’s how they do it.”
Devon eyed the horse then looked back at Ross and shook her head. “Uh, uh. No way,” she cried out. “There’s no way we’re displaying that poor, dead creature. I’m already freaked out!”
Tyler and Brant ran toward the display and stared at them.
“We heard screaming,” Brant announced and looked around. “Is everyone okay?”
Ross picked fake moss from Devon’s hair and managed a smile. “Uh, yeah,” he announced. “We’re fine. Just Devon’s first time seeing a horse, uh, well, in that condition.”
“Well, a word of warning,” Tyler announced. “If you see any wax rats, don’t touch them. They’re not wax, and they will bite.” He eyed the display and sank into thought. “We’re going to need a flatbed cart to move that horse, I’m afraid. Looks pretty heavy. Maybe the movers have one.”
Tyler headed for the front door to chase after the two moving men. Devon vigorously shook her head.
“No way,” she practically cried out as anxiety filled her. She looked back at the horse and immediately looked away. “I’m not getting near that thing. I can’t even look at it without wanting to throw up.”
Ross leaned closer to her ear and whispered, “Not your call, Devon. Play it cool.”
“No, absolutely not,” she cried out, catching Brant’s attention.
Brant walked onto the display and joined them several feet from the horse. He stared at Devon with a curious look.
“What’s going on?” Brant asked.
“She’s a little freaked by the horsey,” Ross remarked. “She’ll be fine.”
“No, I won’t,” Devon snapped at Ross then pulled away and hurried from the scene. “I don’t want to be anywhere near that. It’s not right.”
Brant and Ross hurried after her. Ross immediately attempted to smooth things over with Brant.
“I’ll talk to her,” he announced. “She’ll be fine, I promise.”
Brant ignored him and stopped Devon near the door. “What’s wrong, Devon?”
She stared at him with surprise. “What’s wrong? There’s a dead horse on display! How could someone do that?”
“We’ll work through it, Brant,” Ross insisted. “She’ll be fine. Just let me take her outside for a few minutes for some fresh air.”
She glared at Ross while enraged. “Stop saying I’ll be fine!”
Tyler entered the museum while beaming with delight. “We’re in luck,” he announced cheerfully. “They have a flatbed cart. I’m pretty sure it’ll take four of us to load it though.”
“We’re not taking the horse,” Brant informed Tyler, surprising him.
“What?” Tyler asked. “Why not? We don’t have one to use with the hearse.”
Brant straightened proudly. “Because it’s a taxidermy horse, and it’s already falling apart,” he announced. “I can’t fix taxidermy, and I don’t trust that it was done properly. Who knows what sort of vile little creatures are infesting that thing. As a former scientist, I don’t want to run that risk.”
Tyler stared at Brant a moment then shrugged. “Fine,” he announced with little hesitation. “I’m sure you’ll think of some way to display the hearse without the horse. Come on. We have a lot of work to do.”
Tyler continued through the museum. Brant remained behind and looked at Devon while offering a tiny, reassuring smile.
“Better?” he asked.
Devon insecurely rubbed her arms and managed a smile. “Yes, thank you.” She fidgeted slightly. “I know I’ve already caused you enough grief, but could I ask for another favor? A big one.”
§
Ross stood alongside Devon in the rear parking lot not far from the back door. They watched the stuffed horse burn among several old crates and boxes. Devon insecurely rubbed her arms but smiled with relief.
“Rest in peace, big fella.”
Ross placed his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him. He ran his knuckles across the top of her head, rumpling her hair while she squirmed to free herself from his clutches.
“You are one freaky, psycho chick,” he informed her then kissed the top of her head. “But I love you anyway.”
Chapter Eleven
An older, red sports car pulled into the driveway of a charming, smaller two-story home within the quiet town. Twenty-three-year-old Jamie Smyth parked the car and headed into the house. She was still the same beautiful young woman from her teenage years but now a few years older. Her blonde hair was a little shorter, her makeup a little lighter, and her clothes not quite as revealing but twice as expensive. Jamie entered the house and headed for the stairs without greeting her mother, who was sitting in the living room. Dorothy looked up from her newspaper and immediately gave her daughter a disapproving, raised brow.
“Not even going to say hello?” Dorothy remarked in an almost scolding tone.
Dorothy h
adn’t changed much in seven years. Her hair was still worn up in the same granny bun, although it contained more gray than it had. Jamie frowned while throwing her head back. She then turned and headed back into the living room where her mother sat in her usual chair closest to the light. Jamie smirked with something resembling loathe.
“Hello, mother,” she announced in an insincere polite tone.
Dorothy didn’t let her daughter’s tone or lack of interest interrupt her evening. “How was work?” she asked while setting her newspaper aside.
“Sucked,” Jamie huffed.
“Jamie,” she scoffed while looking above her reading glasses at her. “Don’t talk like that. It’s not becoming of a young woman.”
Jamie groaned at the comment.
Dorothy looked across the room and smiled cheerfully. “Chelsea, Jamie’s home,” she announced.
Jamie glanced across the room to the tall-backed wheelchair in its usual place near the large, bay window. Chelsea sat partially reclined in her wheelchair and stared at nothing with the same blank expression she’d maintained for the last seven years. Jamie fidgeted and appeared uncomfortable while catching an eyeful of her sister. Chelsea looked more like a child’s doll than a young woman. Her once long, blonde hair was cut shoulder length and lacked its radiant shine from her teenage years. Her mother used excessive amounts of makeup on her face to hide the fact that she was flaccid and nearly void of life. She wore a gaudy flower print dress with lace trim resembling old-fashioned doilies around the neckline and sleeves. Her ensemble was completed with a large, fake pearl necklace.
Jamie folded her arms across her chest and looked back at her mother. “She doesn’t care, mom,” she scoffed. “She doesn’t even know I’m here. Hell, she doesn’t even know she’s here.”
Her mother frowned and glared at Jamie. “The doctors said it’s possible she hears and understands everything we’re saying,” Dorothy insisted. “Until someone proves otherwise, we’ll speak to her as if she understands us.”
“Then do her a favor and don’t let her see herself in a mirror,” Jamie scoffed while raising a cocky brow, “because that dress is hideous.”
Jamie turned and headed up the stairs. Dorothy watched her disappear then shook her head and returned her attention to her newspaper.
“Your sister hasn’t changed much,” Dorothy informed Chelsea. “Still charming as always.”
§
Jamie entered her bedroom and immediately shut and locked the door. She tossed her purse onto a nearby chair and flopped onto the bed with her cell phone already to her ear. She groaned when voicemail picked up.
“Hey, it’s me,” she announced into her cell phone. “Give me a call. I can almost guarantee I got that acting job.”
She disconnected the call then turned on the television by the remote control. There was a soft tap against the window, startling her. Jamie looked at the window with some surprise then saw who it was and frowned. She jumped off the bed and pulled the curtain the rest of the way back to reveal Karl in the window. He motioned for her to open the window. She groaned in disgust and opened it. Karl immediately climbed through the window and entered her room.
“Took you long enough to get upstairs,” he bluntly informed her. “I must have been standing on that trellis for ten minutes.”
Jamie folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “We’re not dating anymore, Karl,” she launched hotly. “You don’t get to sneak through my window like that.”
Karl grinned then walked past her and flopped onto her bed, making himself comfortable. “And yet here I am,” he announced.
“Get out, Karl,” she ordered while pointing to the window.
He folded his hands across his abdomen and smiled innocently. “I came to talk, and I’m pretty sure you can’t make me leave.”
“No, but I can scream or call the police on your ass,” she snapped.
“Then I get to tell your mother how I routinely snuck through your window for our nightly romps,” he replied while grinning.
Jamie sneered at him. She didn’t seem to care for that option. “What do you want, Karl?”
He sat up on the edge of the bed and attempted to pull her against him by grabbing her around the hips while also helping himself to a handful of her buttocks. She forcibly removed his hands from her backside and took a step away from him.
“That’s not happening,” she informed him. “We broke up. That means you don’t get to put your hands on me anymore.” She again folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “If you’re finished begging me to take you back, I’d like you to leave now.”
Karl stood and waved her off. “Maybe it’s for the best,” he announced while heading toward the window. “Devon Vincent started working at the museum, and she’s always had a thing for me. I wouldn’t mind banging her. There’s a real chance she’s an actual virgin. If I’m dating you, I can’t pop her cherry.”
He was about to slip out the window when Jamie groaned with disgust and grabbed his arm, stopping him. As he turned, she grabbed him by the back of the neck and kissed him passionately. Her free hand grabbed his crotch with a little added vigor. He yelped slightly then pulled her roughly into his arms and practically yanked her pants down before tackling her to the bed.
Chapter Twelve
It was Friday morning. Devon entered the museum workshop a few minutes early for her shift but was surprised when she didn’t find anyone working. She wasn’t that early, and Brant was always there, it seemed. She looked around feeling slightly discouraged then saw a note on the counter. Devon picked up the note.
“Follow the werewolf,” she read aloud then set the note down and groaned. “Great.”
She looked around the workshop then noticed cut out paw prints on the floor. They headed out of the workshop. Another one of Ross’ games. She cautiously followed the paw prints from the workshop, passed several displays, and headed into the graveyard scene. The frighteningly realistic set was dimly lit with tombstones, fake grass, and a massive crypt in the background. She heard a crack of thunder as the dark sky lit up. It was immediately followed by low moans. Devon jumped nervously and looked around with concern. She was almost certain Ross intended to scare her again, so she braced herself and anticipated something jumping out at her from behind the tombstones. The ground beneath her feet broke open, and zombies rose from the fake ground. Devon jumped with surprise then let out a startled scream. She immediately relaxed and rolled her eyes.
“Ross,” she scoffed under her breath.
A zombie suddenly lunged at her from behind the tree. Devon screamed louder this time and jumped backward. Although she immediately recognized Ross beneath the horror makeup and torn clothing, she couldn’t help but take another step away. A decayed hand fell upon her shoulder. Devon screamed and spun around. Brant smiled while holding the fake hand and waved it at her. Ross grabbed her from behind while groaning loudly and bit her neck. She screamed again, having felt his teeth against her skin, and pulled away from him. She turned and playfully beat him with her palms.
“You jerk!”
Brant removed a remote control from his lab coat pocket, stopping the sounds and movements with the push of a button. He replaced the remote control to his pocket and smiled with embarrassment.
“Sorry,” Brant announced timidly. “I couldn’t resist playing along.”
“You’re just as bad as he is,” she announced while shaking her head.
“I’m teaching him well,” Ross teased. “Besides, you have a beautiful scream.”
“Thanks,” she muttered. “I think.”
“Okay,” Brant announced while hiding his smile. “Playtime is over. Back to work.”
Ross gave his best zombie moan and shuffled his way back to the workshop. Devon rolled her eyes and shook her head then realized Brant was staring at her with a strange smile.
“I really am sorry,” he remarked although his smile told a different story.
“R
emember that when I return the favor one day,” she announced then rubbed her neck and frowned. “That bastard actually bit me.”
§
Devon sat before the counter in the workshop and carefully painted a wax woman’s face with the paint pens while Brant stared over her shoulder, critiquing her work. She felt she was getting the hang of makeup, which was particularly amusing since she didn’t wear any herself. She found Brant hovering over her a little intimidating at first, but he wore some expensive cologne that she found very pleasing.
“Much better,” Brant announced cheerfully. “After lunch, I’ll show you the horror makeup. Blood, puss, and all that good stuff. I’d like to finish Oscar and get him situated on his rack.”
Devon held back her laugh and avoided looking at Brant. “You really get into this, don’t you?”
“A lot better than my former job.”
She became curious and eyed him. “What did you do before you got into horror wax?”
“I was a scientist,” he replied with little enthusiasm. “I worked in a lab with my parents. Nice, sterile, cold environment.”
“Definitely a big change for you.”
“Working with my parents wasn’t a good idea,” he informed her. “Tyler got me into wax, so to speak. He had a museum a few years back, but everything was destroyed in a fire. When he found this place, he decided to rebuild his wax museum. That’s when he rescued me from my parents. Not much warmth in my family.”
“I can’t say I have that problem,” she remarked then laughed. “Almost the opposite. My brother is completely smothering.” She then considered the comment and made a face. “My father, on the other hand, could learn to step back a little.”
“Is he smothering the same as your brother?” Brant asked.
“No, not the same as my brother,” she replied with some irritation. “My father is smothering because he doesn’t think women should have jobs outside the house and raising a family.”
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