by R. L. Stine
“His sister, maybe,” said Josh. “Older girl? A little scary-looking?”
“That’s the one,” said Tally. “She wouldn’t let us in. Said Luis wasn’t home.”
Josh caught the pass from Gabe. “Maybe he wasn’t,” he said.
“Oh, come on,” said Gabriel. “A bunch of kids ran screaming out of there just as we were walking up. And you think he wasn’t home?”
Josh shrugged and then tried another shot. The ball bounced off the rim. “There were rumors today at school.”
“Rumors?” said Tally.
Josh cleared his throat. “That Luis had disappeared, leaving only a puddle of blood behind. Or that he’d been eaten by some kind of monster.”
Tally rolled her eyes. “Right. Because that kind of rumor wouldn’t help his haunted house business much at all.”
Their neighbor shrugged again. “Dunno. That’s what I heard.”
Gabriel took a shot from behind a red Toyota, and the ball clanged off the rim. “Well, do you know anything about where he gets his special effects?”
“The Halloween Store?” Josh rescued the ball from the bushes. “I’m not sure. I only know that Luis takes his scares really seriously.”
“So do we,” said Tally. “So do we.”
Ten minutes later she and Gabriel were riding their bikes toward San Lorenzo’s lone Halloween store. Like a rare night-blooming flower, the shop was only open for a brief time—between mid-September and November 1. But unlike a flower blossom, the Halloween Store was loud, garish, and full of monster-obsessed shoppers.
Tally opened the shop’s front door, triggering a wolf howl. She pulled up short, more surprised than scared, before surveying aisles packed with an astonishing assortment of Halloween stuff. There were costumes ranging from Elvis to Elvira, plastic cauldrons, fake cobwebs, pumpkin night-lights, severed fingers, tombstones, enormous spiders, and even Sparky the Skeleton Dog. “Thriller” boomed from scratchy speakers as shoppers rummaged.
Gabe raked a hand through his hair. “We’ve been here before, T. You know we can’t afford most of this stuff.”
“I know.”
“And the junk we can afford is too cheesy to spook a kindergartner. So . . . ?”
Tally licked her lips. “So maybe we’ve overlooked something. Something special. I’m not giving in without a fight, are you?”
“No.”
“All right, then. One more time.” Leading the way down the nearest aisle, Tally fingered skeleton ponchos and felt bats. Nothing jumped out at her saying, I’m the ultimate scare. They turned the corner and strolled along the next aisle, and the next.
Gabriel held up a dorky-looking zombie-panda costume. “Yeah, this’ll really freak ’em out. I bet Luis didn’t get any of his effects here.”
“Patience,” said Tally. “If we want to find something really special, we’ve got to put in the time.”
A scratchy voice spoke. “You want something special?”
They glanced up. Standing beside a display of zombie makeup was a tall, scrawny high school boy just old enough to grow a sparse goatee.
“Yeah,” said Gabe. His tone of voice implied that this guy wouldn’t know special if it bit him in the neck and drained all his blood.
“Well, you won’t find it here,” said the boy.
A snort of amusement burst from Tally. “We’re getting that feeling.”
On closer inspection, Goatee Boy looked a little ragged around the edges. His sandy hair was matted, and his flannel shirt frayed. Even his smile was yellowish. “Only posers and little kids shop here,” he said. “If you want the real deal . . .”
“Yes?” Tally was drawn in despite herself.
“Check out Lucky 8, over on Q Street.”
Gabriel scoffed. “That’s a crummy part of town. What could they possibly have?”
Goatee Boy’s muddy gray eyes glinted. “The genuine article, dude.” His lip curled. “You’re not afraid, are you?”
“No way,” said Gabe. “We just don’t like wasting our time.”
The teen gave a raspy chuckle in response. “Guaranteed you’ve never seen anything like it.” And with a farewell smirk, he slouched past them and around the corner into another aisle.
“If this store is only for posers and little kids,” said Gabriel, “what’s he doing here?”
“Shopping for his poser little sister?” said Tally. But her gaze was thoughtful. “I wonder . . .”
“You’re not actually thinking of going to Q Street?”
“Look, you’re right; there’s nothing new here.” Tally flapped a hand at the shelves packed with tacky Halloween junk. “If they’ve got the real thing at Lucky 8, why not check it out?”
Gabe shrugged. “I dunno . . .” He rarely refused his sister, but something felt a little . . . off.
“This could give us the edge.” She shoved him playfully, mimicking Goatee Boy’s voice. “You’re not afraid, are you?”
Gabriel shoved her back. “I’m braver than you. And wiser, and older.”
“By ten whole minutes. And I’m not so sure about the wise and brave part.” But she was glad that her brother had her back. Tally didn’t want to mention it, but something about the teen’s manner had made her uneasy too.
Still, they’d never beat Luis if they didn’t take some chances.
Outside the store, the twins unlocked their bikes, mounted up, and headed for Q Street. As they pedaled, the bright boutiques and restaurants of downtown San Lorenzo faded behind them. In their place, bars, pawnshops, and warehouses sprouted like toadstools after it’s rained.
Lucky 8’s dusty display window held a headless mannequin, an ancient tortoise shell, and several mummified duck carcasses suspended by their feet. The twins traded a glance before locking their bikes securely to a nearby lamppost. Down the block, a hunched woman wheeled a shopping cart stuffed with bags, chattering merrily to nobody at all.
Tally got a grip on herself. “Okay, let’s see what the big deal is.” Putting a hand to the cool glass of the front door, she pushed it inward.
A bell jingled, and a musty, earthy smell—like beetroots and dried bat wings—met them as they entered. Unlike the Halloween Store, this shop was a dim cave, full of the oddest assortment of things. On the long counter a row of glass jars displayed pickled animal parts—hooves, snouts, and other, less identifiable bits. Three rows of tall shelving held everything from bamboo steamers to kung-fu shoes, from dog-eared books to eerie masks.
Gabe shot his sister a doubtful look and started down the nearest aisle. His fingers trailed over decks of tarot cards, wind-up Godzilla toys, and boxes of Chinese herbs. “What exactly are we looking for?”
Joining him, Tally narrowed her eyes at the oddities. “We’ll know it when we find it.”
“That’s helpful.”
A row of gnarled shrunken heads caught Gabriel’s attention, and he stopped to examine them while his sister continued down the aisle. They couldn’t be real. Could they?
Sensing a presence, Gabe turned. A caramel-skinned woman with curly hair was studying him. “Need some help?” she asked.
“Um, yeah,” he said. Up close, she looked maybe college-aged, with a heart-shaped face and huge green eyes. A pearly half-moon barrette held back her hair on one side.
“What are you looking for?” the woman asked with the ghost of a Southern accent.
“My sister and I have a haunted house,” said Gabriel. “We want something that’ll give our visitors the biggest scare ever.”
“Your house is really haunted?” Her gaze sharpened, seeming almost eager.
He shrugged in apology. “Not really really. It’s something we do for the neighbor kids. Kind of like a mini–theme park.”
“Ah.” Half-Moon Woman leaned closer, and Gabe got a whiff of her sandalwood perfume. “You want to spook the little ones?”
“Yeah,” he said. For some reason she was easy to talk to. “See, we keep getting beat by this other guy’s haunted
house ’cause he has better special effects.”
“Your competition,” she said.
“Right. But if we’re going to crush him this time, we need something special, not the same old, same old.” He plucked a mummified hand off the shelf and examined it curiously.
“Then that’s not what you want,” said Half-Moon Woman, taking the object back and reshelving it. “Tell me, what are you willing to pay?”
Gabriel’s hand strayed to the pocket where his wallet rested. “We don’t have much. But we’ll give whatever we’ve got—for the right thing.”
“That’s the answer I was looking for.” The woman crooked a finger. “Right this way.”
Gabe followed her into the next aisle. Rounding the corner, he glanced over at the counter, but the old Asian guy behind it didn’t look up from his smartphone.
The woman went up on tiptoe, pulling a cigar box from a high shelf. She presented it to Gabriel with a flourish. “Ta-da!”
He blinked. “Cigars?”
“Not quite.”
At that moment Tally joined them. “What’s that?” she asked.
“She says it’s the real deal.” Gabe nodded at the woman.
“Sure, if you want real lung cancer,” said Tally.
Half-Moon Woman opened the box. Inside, on a bed of black velvet, lay a yellowed scroll of paper and a small bottle made of thick green glass, with a cork stopper. “Pour some of this liquid into a saucer, surround it with candles, and follow the instructions on the scroll.”
“And this is supposed to terrify our visitors?” Tally said doubtfully. “No offense, but . . .”
The woman’s smile turned a little feline around the edges. “Luis de la Vega bought something very similar. But if you’re not interested . . .” She reached for the box.
Gabriel felt a sudden, unreasoning fear of losing it. “No!” He snapped the lid shut and half turned his body. “Uh, I mean, we’ll take it.”
“Excellent choice,” said the woman. Her eyes widened suddenly. “Oh. You’ll need one more thing.” She pushed past them, making a beeline for the corner, where stuffed animal heads leered down from the wall.
Tally shot Gabriel a questioning look, but he clutched the box to his chest and followed the woman. As the twins caught up, Half-Moon Woman bent and lifted something from the floor. She turned.
They took a step back. In the woman’s arms nestled a massive, sinister-looking boar’s head. Gray dust coated the black bristles, but the glass eyes glittered, and the tusks curved wickedly.
“Just set this beside the saucer,” said Half-Moon Woman. “It’ll give your ritual a real kick.” The woman thrust the head into Tally’s arms. It was surprisingly heavy, and the bristles prickled her bare skin.
“Um, thanks,” said Gabe.
“Just pay at the counter.” And with a last, feline smile, the woman glided down the aisle into the depths of the store.
Gabriel frowned. “How did she know that Luis was our competition?” he said. “I didn’t mention him, did you?”
Tally shook her head. “Not me. Maybe she’s a big haunted house fan.” Looking down at the boar’s head, she added, “This thing gives me the creeps.”
“Good,” said Gabriel. “That means it’ll creep out our customers too.” He led the way to the cash register and set the cigar box on the counter.
Glancing up from his phone, the old man narrowed his eyes at the box. “That’s not mine.”
“Sure it is,” said Gabe. “Your assistant found it for us.”
“Assistant?” scoffed the shopkeeper. “I don’t have an assistant. What does this look like, Walmart?”
“But she said—” Tally began.
“You speak English?” said the man. “It’s not mine. You are imagining things.”
“But she was so helpful,” said Gabriel, craning his neck to scope out the back of the store. No sign of the woman.
“You want the boar? Twenty-six bucks.”
Gabe dug into his wallet and fished out five lonely dollar bills. He winced. “A little help, T?”
His sister’s lips pursed. “This better work.”
“It will.”
Digging inside her bag, Tally produced eight more singles. “That’s everything.”
The shopkeeper gave them a deadpan look.
Spreading the thirteen singles on the countertop, Gabriel flashed the man an apologetic smile. “Um, don’t suppose you’d let us pay on an installment plan?”
For a long moment the shopkeeper stared at the twins, then at the boar’s head. With a disgusted grunt, he flapped the back of his hand at them. “Take it away. It’s not like people were fighting over it.” He scooped up the cash, rang the sale, and slipped the bills into the cash register.
“Note to self,” he muttered. “Never sell to delusional children.”
Tally and Gabe thanked him and lugged their finds outside.
“I feel kind of weird that we didn’t pay for this box,” said Gabriel.
“You’ll get over it.”
He started to put the cigar box into his bike basket, but his sister stopped him.
“Uh-uh. This was your idea; you’re carrying Mr. Tusky.”
He swapped the box for the boar. “Fair enough, but show some respect. This boar is about to put our haunted house over the top.”
“How, exactly?” she asked.
“I dunno,” said Gabe. “I just feel it.”
Back home they set Mr. Tusky on the coffee table, sat on the couch, and opened the box. Gabe’s eager fingers unrolled the scroll.
“Well?” said Tally. “What’s it say?”
Gabriel read aloud, “‘Instructions for raising Raw Head and Bloody Bones,’” and a chill danced down his spine.
“Promising,” said Tally, leaning forward. “Go on.”
In old-timey language the scroll told how to set up the candles and saucer and how much of the potion to pour into it. It instructed them to chant “Raw Head and Bloody Bones” until “ye beast’s face appears in ye saucer’s mirror,” and then to shout “Get up and dance!”
Tally raised an eyebrow. “Really? It’s a disco monster?”
“Come on, T. Have some faith.”
“All right, all right. And then what happens?”
Looking up from the paper, Gabe said, “‘And the revenant shall rise.’ That’s it.”
She sent him an exasperated stare. “You conned me out of my last eight bucks for that?”
“I’m sure it’ll work.” Her brother frowned. “Hey, maybe it’s some kind of levitation trick with the boar’s head?”
Tally rolled her eyes. “It better be scarier than that if we want to beat Luis. Give me that thing.” She scanned the lines for herself and then checked out the flip side of the paper. It was blank. “What’s this Raw Head and Bloody Bones supposed to be anyway?”
Gabe lifted a shoulder. “Doesn’t say.”
“Well, duh. Let’s Google it and find out.” She pulled a cell phone from her bag, and Gabriel leaned close.
“Huh.” She scrolled through the search results. “This looks interesting. . . .”
A third link led to a description of an old folktale where a witch took revenge on the man who had slaughtered her pet hog. Supposedly, she magically animated the hog’s head and bones, and this monster killed his murderer in a brutal way.
The twins read through the story, their heads almost touching. Finally, Tally breathed, “Cool.”
“Now that’s spooky,” said Gabe.
Tally leaned back against the cushions, a faraway look in her eyes. She twisted a lock of hair around her finger.
“What?” her brother asked.
Tally smiled. “You know, it just might work. Think we could talk Josh Johnson into dressing up as Raw Head and Bloody Bones?”
The next day Tally and Gabriel passed out flyers and spread the word: the Sotos’ House of Terror was open for business. Strangely enough, de la Vega’s haunted house was still closed, and nobody
seemed to know where he’d gone. The twins spared a brief moment wondering about Luis. But really, this news meant just one thing: they were going to beat him, once and for all!
Gabe and Tally rushed home from school to put the finishing touches on their masterpiece, and when four thirty rolled around, the garage looked as spooky as they could possibly make it. The sun hung low. Clouds gathered.
Right on time, the first batch of kids—mostly third- and fourth-graders—showed up. They surveyed the tombstones and cobwebs festooning the front yard.
“This better be scarier than last year,” said Madison Lee, a girl from two doors down.
“Yeah,” agreed Big Matt, “or I’m gonna want my money back.”
Dressed all in black, the twins offered wintry smiles. “Oh, it’s scary, all right,” said Tally.
“Anyone with a weak heart, now’s your last chance to leave.” Gabe turned to admire the garage. He had to admit, they’d done a pretty good job. The skeletons on the roof gleamed in the fading light, the electric candles twinkled bone yellow, and the jack-o’-lanterns were particularly gruesome.
Tally collected the admission fees, and Gabe gathered the kids before the blood-smeared side door. In his best spooky voice, he boomed, “Abandon hope, all who enter here, for this is the Sotos’ House of Terror!”
He turned the knob and let the door creak open.
Just then, Tally hit the play button on her iPod, and a fiendish cackle erupted from the indoor speakers. Two of the younger kids jumped. The rest just grinned.
Gabe led the group into the garage draped with black curtains, both to hide the usual garage junk and to create a corridor for visitors to follow. The neighborhood kids pushed through cold chains that were hanging from the ceiling and began walking the path. Dry-ice fog drifted everywhere. The lights were dim and as red as a fresh wound.
When the kids plunged their hands into the bucket of eyeballs (actually peeled grapes), Tally cued up the ghostly moans on her iPod. A couple of kids gasped. Most just giggled.
“You did that one last year,” said Madison.
Gabe scowled.
The trick with the hose segments was a dud. Not even second-grader Lucas believed they were snakes. Gabriel thought the haunted mirror with the mannequin hand was spooking everyone, until Big Matt reached out and shook the hand.