All Hallows' Eve Collection

by Sarah M. Eden

  Derrick grinned. “Yeah, I kinda didn’t think she’d say yes. I mean, is it weird to get engaged on Halloween?”

  Oliver’s smile froze. Memories of Cate flooded through him. Hot. Then cold. A tingle in his lips, as though a ghost had breathed a kiss into his mouth. The coldness numbed his tongue, spread down his neck, through his nerves, and lodged in the corner of his heart he had locked away. “No,” he managed before the knot in his throat threatened to choke him. “It’s not weird at all.”

  Derrick slapped him on the shoulder. “See you around, man. Have fun tonight.” He backed up as he spoke, nearly bumping into a couple dressed as Batman and Robin. His grin never left his face, and he nodded in farewell. “Happy Halloween.”

  “You too,” Oliver replied automatically, but his memory was filled with Cate, and his thoughts scattered like leaves on the wind.

  He turned back to the railing and gripped the polished wood. He could hear his wedding ring knock against the bar, and, with effort, he forced his hands to stop trembling. Blowing out a hard breath between his teeth, he stripped off his ring and held it between his fingertips. A simple gold circle, but he knew every inch of it by heart.

  Long ago, he had thought it symbolized eternity— one unbroken round— but now, looking through it to the endlessly shifting waters beyond, he realized it was a zero. A hole through which his life had spiraled until he was left with this.

  Nothing.

  Cate had put this ring on his finger on October 31, 2004. He had been twenty-one. Young and nervous in his doctor’s scrubs. She had been twenty-two. A princess in a wedding dress. The most beautiful woman in the world.

  For ten years, this ring had stayed on his finger.

  Now he was thirty-one. No longer young and nervous.

  And his beautiful Cate was dead.

  Laughter rose and fell around him as passengers began filling the walkways, heading toward the various offerings and activities of the evening. Chattering conversations overlapped each other like waves until the words were nothing but noise.

  Someone bumped into Oliver from behind. “Sorry, mate,” the man slurred.

  He grunted at the contact—

  And his wedding ring fell from his fingers.

  His breath exploded from his lungs. He lunged forward, nearly falling over the railing himself, and watched, helpless, as the gold ring twirled and twisted away from him.

  He tried to keep his eyes on the small circle, but with the darkness pressing in on him, and with the ship moving forward, he didn’t even see where the ring landed. No splash. No ripple.

  It was just gone.

  Oliver tried to breathe, but the air suddenly felt heavier, thicker. He couldn’t force it into his body; he didn’t want to.

  A sharp pain shot through his left palm, spiraling around his wrist and making his forearm throb.

  Looking down, he saw blood welling from under his fingernails. He forced the muscles of his arm to relax, forced his fingers to uncurl from the fist he had made.

  His heart thudded in his chest, but it felt like it belonged to someone else. It had to be someone else’s blood and body and pain. He’d spent the last four months in a welcome numbness, so now, to have this exquisitely precise pain tracing its way through his veins and nerves, bridging the hollows of his heart to the hidden walls in his mind, and connecting him in a network of unrelenting agony was beyond what his body was prepared for.

  He had lost so much already. Would the loss ever stop?

  “Are you all right?” A woman with a blue masquerade mask paused, her gaze darting from his face to his arm and the streak of blood on his palm. “Would you like me to call someone? The ship’s doctor, perhaps?” She looked at his uniform, clearly uncertain if it was the real thing or a costume.

  Oliver laughed, a cold, brittle sound. The wind whipped it away, which made him glad. No one should have to hear such a sound. No one should have to make such a sound.

  “No, thank you, miss,” he managed. “It’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine. Thank you for your concern. Please, enjoy your evening.”

  She hesitated a moment longer, an appraising and appreciative look in her eyes that he could see even though she was masked.

  He knew what she saw when she looked at him: a tall man with closely cropped hair the color of desert sand, eyes the color of wood. A man used to the discipline of wearing a uniform, of giving orders and having them obeyed. A man comfortable in his confidence.

  A man with no ring on his finger anymore.

  He hid his hand behind his back.

  Oliver wasn’t used to other women looking at him like that.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Oliver said, edging away from her and turning toward the main deck.

  “Perhaps I’ll see you later,” she called out after him.

  He hoped not. He brushed the back of his hand across his forehead, scrubbing away a layer of sweat. The crowds, the noise, the energy— everything was suddenly too much.

  Despite the cool darkness, his skin felt hot, rough as sandpaper. He wanted to get away; he needed to get away.

  But being on a cruise ship in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea in the middle of the night didn’t exactly lend itself to escape. They were days away from reaching port. And it wasn’t like the smaller ship-to-shore vessels were being launched tonight…

  Oliver stopped mid-step.

  He checked his wristwatch and picked up his pace. He didn’t want to be late for the Storytelling by Starlight gig.

  Chapter Two

  The Storytelling by Starlight activity was designed to appeal to families. The largest of the ship-to-shore vessels held nearly 250 people, but by the time Oliver arrived at the designated area for departure, there was only one ship left: a small boat with ten seats, four of which were already filled with a cuddling teenaged couple and a set of grandparents.

  “I’m sorry,” the crew member— Nathan— said to the last family waiting on deck. “All the larger boats are in use, but this one will work just fine. We didn’t expect so many people.”

  “Are you sure it’s safe?” the young mother asked Nathan. She held hands with both her husband and her small, five-year-old daughter, who was dressed as a Care Bear, complete with fuzzy ears and a giant red heart on her stomach.

  “One hundred percent,” he said. “I promise. And look. Here is our ship’s doctor. He will be joining us tonight.”

  Oliver nodded. “Permission to come aboard?” He smiled at the family and gestured for them to go first.

  The father took the lead down the gangplank that led to the boat. His wife tightened her grip on her daughter’s hand and followed him down.

  Oliver smiled at the sight, though not without regret. He and Cate had talked about kids— she had wanted a houseful of them— but the timing never seemed to be right. He was focused on school; and then the time he thought they had vanished overnight.

  It had been fast and, he hoped, painless, but it didn’t change the fact that Cate’s own body had killed her. She had complained of leg pain one weekend, but she was training for an upcoming 5K, and her legs often hurt. He’d chalked it up to that. She had just pulled a muscle, he said. Nothing a hot bath and a good night’s sleep wouldn’t cure, he said.

  And she listened to him. He was her husband, after all.

  If only he had suspected that a sneaky, silent clot was developing in her leg. If only he had guessed how swiftly it was growing in her vein. If only he had figured out a way to stop it from breaking free one night and shooting straight to her heart.

  He was a doctor, after all. He should have been able to save her.

  “Doc?” Nathan prompted. “You coming?”

  Oliver shoved his memories back into the darkness and nodded once, curtly. “Yes, I’m coming.”

  He strode down the gangplank in three quick steps, landing hard in the boat and sending it rocking.

  The little girl squealed in delighted terror. “Mama! We’re sailing!”

&n
bsp; Mom smiled and held her close. “Not yet, baby. But we are much closer to the water now. Stay close to me or Dad. Okay? We want you to be safe.”

  Nathan and Oliver helped everyone buckle their life jackets, and then Nathan steered the boat away from the liner and out over the dark, moonlit waves. The breeze had died down, though the temperature was still cool. The teenagers sitting on the port side of the boat cuddled even closer together, the boy wrapping his arms around his girlfriend. The grandparents sitting next to them were more prepared: they already had a lap blanket spread over their legs.

  There was an empty seat between the two couples, but Oliver didn’t want to crowd anyone. He made his way to the empty seats next to the family on the starboard side. He wasn’t particularly in the mood for socializing, but he couldn’t stand for the whole trip.

  The little girl smiled shyly at him across the empty seat. “Are you gonna tell us a story?”

  Oliver nodded, but without much confidence. He looked around at the passengers. Did he even know any good stories? His glance fell on the littlest passenger. She knelt sideways on her wobbly seat, her orange life jacket nearly swallowing her up. Her pink cheeks glowed, and she reached up to pull back her fuzzy bear hood.

  “Halloween stories is the best,” she said to Oliver, as though imparting a great secret. “Tell my favorite story about the witches.”

  Oliver, clearly unfamiliar with that story, looked to the girl’s parents for help.

  “Becca, I’m sure the doctor has his own favorite story to tell,” the mother said, smoothing back her daughter’s dark brown hair.

  What would Cate do? he thought. Cate had been the storyteller in the family. She would know how to make this night memorable for everyone. She would know how to weave a story out of the stars and the moonlight. He closed his eyes and conjured up his favorite mental picture of her:

  Cate, wearing her faded Swedish Bitters concert T-shirt, broken-in jeans, and scuffed-up sneakers. Cate, pulling back her long, blonde hair into a ponytail. Cate, looking at him with a smile as bright as the sun and asking him, “Ready?”

  Then she’d bolted down the sidewalk before he’d had a chance to answer, making him chase her. Which he had— until he’d caught her by Mrs. Bailie’s mailbox, at which point he’d kissed her until they both forgot why they had been racing in the first place.

  The kiss had been worth remembering forever, but it had been that singular moment before that had stuck with Oliver longer. The moment of anticipation. Of possibility. Of unparalleled joy.

  A scream cut through his memories, jolting him back to the moment. Oliver’s instincts took over. He swept the boat with a single glance: the teenagers gaped, the grandparents gasped, Nathan lunged for the starboard side yelling, “Stay in the boat!”

  The small family of three was down to two.

  Becca was gone.

  Chapter Three

  Oliver dove into the water.

  He didn’t think; he just took one step onto the recently vacated seat, extended his arms, and plunged into the ocean. He barely had time to take a breath. The waves cut the mother’s scream in two.

  When he was younger, he’d thought it would be quiet underwater, but he’d been in the ocean often enough to know it was filled with sound. The zip of bubbles escaping from his nose and mouth. The tidal hush of his blood flowing in his veins. The tick-tock of his heartbeat.

  Oliver pulled his arms through the water, diving deeper in order to avoid being blinded by the bubbles. He looked around, but between the darkness filling the water and the salt stinging his eyes, his visibility was low. He wished he could call out Becca’s name, but he could already feel the pressure in his lungs.

  He saw a flash of orange to his right. Spinning as best he could, he kicked his way forward.

  Becca’s life jacket had come unbuckled, black straps drifting like seaweed.

  Oliver pushed the jacket aside. Becca had to be close. She had been wearing a full bear costume, which had probably gotten waterlogged as soon as she hit the water, and without the jacket helping to offset the weight, she would sink instead of swim—

  There.

  Oliver looked below him and saw Becca falling as though in slow motion. Her small hand uncurled, reaching for him. Her eyes were closed, and a few small bubbles trickled from her nose.

  Stroking downward, Oliver reached the little girl and grabbed her wrist in one motion. The Care Bear costume was heavy, and pulling Becca to the surface strained every muscle Oliver had.

  The pressure in his lungs battered at him, demanding release, but he resisted. He couldn’t give in until Becca was safe.

  He swam toward the light, imagining that with just one more stroke upward, he’d be able to reach the full moon that hung low over the water. One more stroke. One more. One…

  His head broke the surface an instant before he hauled Becca up beside him.

  Nathan had kept the ship close, and Oliver was grateful that his crewmate’s instincts had proven true. Six faces peered at him over the edge of the boat. Nathan shouted at the passengers to step back, move back, keep the weight evenly distributed; they didn’t want to capsize the boat.

  “Becca! My baby!” the mother called out. “Becca, where are you?”

  “Here!” Oliver called back, his voice raw. The salt water tasted like tears.

  Becca spluttered in his arms, her eyes snapping open and her mouth drawing in a deep, gasping breath.

  Oliver wasted no time swimming back to the boat. He’d spent his adrenaline on the dive and the rescue. He didn’t dare risk going into shock while still in the water.

  “Oliver!” Nathan shouted, then threw out a life preserver. It splashed near enough that Oliver could grab it with his free hand. He looped it around Becca’s small body to help support her.

  “Go!” he shouted to Nathan, who began hauling the life preserver back toward the boat.

  Becca clung to the white ring with both hands as she cut through the water. Her eyes never left Oliver’s. Her face was as pale as the moon.

  Nathan, Becca’s father, and the teenage boy all reached down and pulled the little girl back into the boat. In an instant, Becca’s mother had wrapped her arms around her daughter, her sobs shifting from terror to relief.

  “You’ll be okay,” he whispered, partly to reassure Becca and her mother, and partly to reassure himself. “You’re going to be okay.”

  He tilted his head back into the water and looked up at the moon. It had felt so far away when he’d been underwater. Now it felt close enough to touch.

  He pulled a breath deep into his aching lungs, wondering if Cate had felt similar pressure the night the clot moved into her lungs, cutting off her air, and then into her heart, cutting off her life.

  The salt water on his lips no longer came only from the sea.

  He rubbed a wet hand over his face and turned toward the boat.

  “Oliver!” Nathan shouted. He stood with one foot on the side of the boat, the life preserver back in his hands, ready to cast it into the water. “You ready?”

  Oliver opened his mouth to say yes, he needed help— he was ready to be saved— but instead, a yelp escaped his lips.

  A hand encircled his ankle, as cold and hard as marble, and pulled him down.

  Down into the depths of the sea.

  Water closed over his eyes, his mouth, his nose.

  The moon receded in his vision until he saw nothing but blackness.

  Kicking didn’t help. The hand had latched onto him with the ferociousness of a shark, and he was helpless to break free.

  Whatever it was that had grabbed him was pulling him so fast that the water blurred around him. There was nothing to grab onto to stop his momentum. Nothing to cling to.

  His lungs emptied of air. A tingling sensation started in his hands and feet. His chest and throat tightened, and he felt like he needed to cough, but he also knew that was the worst thing he could do.

  Oliver gritted his teeth and forced himself
to look down, trying to catch a glimpse of what had captured him.

  He hadn’t really expected to be able to see anything, but to his surprise, he could see every detail of the creature below him.

  Because she glowed.

  The skin of her entire body was pure white, and while she looked mostly human, Oliver could see the shimmering, silver scales that coated her legs in overlapping rings from her thighs to her toes. Was she a mermaid?

  No, because folded against her back were what appeared to be wings.

  An angel?

  Impossible. Angels flew in the sky, not swam in the ocean.

  The lack of oxygen was clearly affecting Oliver’s brain. He was hallucinating. That must be it. That would also explain the music he could hear trailing in the wake of the strange angel-mermaid creature. Was it possible that she was humming underwater? Singing?

  Struggling to escape, Oliver kicked again and again, but the white woman merely tightened her grip on his ankle and increased her speed.

  I’m going to die, Oliver thought, surprised at how calm he felt at the realization. I’m ready, Cate. I hope I get to see you again. That would be nice…

  The angel-mermaid creature suddenly stopped swimming and pulled Oliver close, turning him to face her. She peered at him with bottomless black eyes, her mouth a narrow slit. Her song nearly disappeared, but Oliver could still hear the thrum and lift of the notes.

  Death cannot have you, a voice said in his mind. I found you. I caught you. You are mine.

  She wrapped her scale-clad legs around his, pressed her body close to his, and then tilted her face upward.

  Like a rocket, they shot toward the sky, far above.

  Chapter Four

  Oliver woke with the sound of the ocean in his ears.

  Sand coated the side of his face, gritty and cold against his wet skin. A soft breeze blew past, rustling the leaves in the trees and bushes around him.

  He rolled onto his back, quickly taking stock of his situation and being amazed by three things: one, he wasn’t dead; two, there were no stars in the sky, only the round, full moon; and three, he could hear voices.