Dark Hallows II: Tales from the Witching Hour

by Mark Parker

  “It’s not her fault who her father is.”

  “Promise me you won’t have a change of heart before we do this.”

  “Kat had nothing to do with what Arthur Van Bollin did to my father, but she and I can’t have a life until I settle scores with him. Do it how we said, everyone gets what they want.”

  “Mostly.” Tamara ran a fingertip down the side of Zach’s neck. “Have a nice life with that fancy bitch and her ice queen aunt. Maybe I’ll send you a postcard from the city.”

  Zach watched Tamara walk away in her opalescent faerie gown. Silk and cellophane wings bobbed on her back. Where the path through his oil-stained yard hooked right out the gate, she looked back and blew him a kiss. Her smell still lingered in his nostrils, her taste on his tongue. A high price, losing her, but he deemed it fair trade for obtaining what he’d longed for since third grade. For half a heartbeat he considered accepting her offer to shuck his past and all its burdens in exchange for a fresh start far away. But he did love Bollin’s Creek. After Arthur Van Bollin ruined his father’s business and drove him to suicide, the people here took care of Zach like one of their own children. They fed and clothed him and hired him to repair their cars when he reopened his father’s garage. He owed them, and breaking the Van Bollin’s hold over the town and its people would settle the debt.

  No one knew exactly how the Van Bollin family earned their money, but nor did anyone object to them spending a fair chunk of it on the annual Bollin’s Creek Halloween Masquerade Festival. A town tradition dating back to the Depression, Zach had joined in the party as long as he could remember, starting with the children’s Trick-or-Treat March before graduating to the Haunted Horse and Buggy rides through the graveyard, then moving on to the Corpse and Corn Maze, and the bonfire behind the high school football field.

  Now, only a few years out of school, he’d devised his best costume ever and been invited to the Festival’s exclusive last hurrah at the Van Bollin house—the Midnight Masque. Hell or high water, he intended to make it a night to remember. Katrina Van Bollin deserved no less.

  Her father deserved no better.

  ***

  “Oh my god, Zach, it’s brilliant!”

  Katrina squealed as she grabbed his shoulders and planted a kiss on his lips, tickling them with the tip of her tongue. She stepped back for a better view of his costume, which consisted of a navy blue silk shirt bought from the consignment shop and a breastplate hammered from sheet metal scrap and painted with a unicorn head sigil. Snug, black pants and battered, leather boots completed the overall look, to which he’d added a low-slung belt strapped with a short sword at his left hip, and a blaster at his right—the prop weapons fashioned from odds and ends around his shop. On his sleeves he’d sewn gold bands of his rank as Prince Vinn Northstar, Commander of the Algernon Rift Fleet, meticulously designed from descriptions in Katrina’s favorite series of fantasy novels, The Northstar Saga. His touch of genius, though, lay in his shirt’s collar, which projected color sequences onto his face and torso. Reflected by the polished breastplate, they created a cloud of light that mimicked the personal auras essential to the saga’s characters.

  “How’d you do the aura?” Katrina said.

  “Tiny lights sewed into my collar, controlled with an app on my phone.”

  “I love it! Promise you’ll do one for me next year, okay? We can go as the King and Queen of House Northstar with the brightest, most perfect auras.”

  “You bet.”

  Katrina spun to show off her red-and-black gown, slits rising to her waist, accentuating her long, lithe legs. A ring mail shawl draped across her shoulders hid much of what the gown’s plunging neckline revealed yet exposed a temporary tattoo centered below her breasts, a thorny vine twined into a heart shape topped with a black rose.

  “What do you think?” she said.

  “Absolutely stunning,” Zach said. “Lady Asanander, right? Aren’t she and Prince Vinn enemies?”

  Katrina replied with a salacious grin. “You haven’t read book four yet.”

  “Maybe I should jump ahead.”

  Katrina laughed then pulled Zach by the hand. “Come on! See the costumes. Everyone looks wonderful. This will be the best Halloween ever.”

  She led him through the house, every room decorated. The parlor resembled an enchanted woodland, the den a spaceship command bridge, the dining room a tableau of grinning corpses set to feast. Clever wall hangings and projected light transformed the halls into torch-lit tunnels. In the kitchen, cooks and waiters in skimpy, gothic outfits worked among black-and-white tiles with serving dishes smeared with faux blood. Zach had grown up like everyone in town listening to rumors of the Midnight Masque’s excesses but the rumors fell far short of the reality.

  They stepped out onto the back veranda, overlooking a yard where the party’s heart beat to a four-piece band playing on a skull-shaped stage surrounded by a dancing crowd. Guitars, drums, and voices filled the air with a rockabilly cover of “The Monster Mash.” Tables alongside offered heaps of food lit by candelabrum draped with cobwebs, and at each corner, bartenders in skin-tight, black-and-white skeleton suits served drinks from behind gravestone bars. Candles, bonfire barrels, and wrought-iron braziers provided the only light. Beyond that, stars glimmered above the dead-black peaks of the Nasquaiga Mountains. The partygoers all wore masks, some integral to their costume, others ornate leather sculptures tied on with decorative silks.

  Katrina handed such a mask to Zach, House Northstar blue and gold, the eyeholes cut in the peculiar, trapezoidal shape of the Northstar race.

  “Daddy insists.”

  Zach let Katrina tie the ribbons around his head and then he did the same for her, a blood-red mask with cat’s-eye tips.

  “You’re supposed to put it on before you come, but I wanted you to see me,” Katrina whispered. “I hated the idea of you dancing with other girls all night trying to find me. Go fetch us drinks. I’ll tell Daddy you’re here.”

  Katrina hurried off and submerged into the crowd.

  Zach worked his way to the nearest bar, where he discovered the bartender wore body paint, not a skin-tight suit. Goosebumps rippled her flesh, and he pitied her working in the chill night, but if the cold or her nakedness gave her any serious discomfort, he saw no sign of it. He ordered a pumpkin spice beer and a glass of Malbec for Katrina then crowd-watched while he waited for her to return.

  A text from Tamara buzzed his phone: We’re here.

  Setting down the drinks, he texted back: Don’t c u.

  U will.

  He glanced around for Tamara’s faerie outfit amidst a living collage of pirates, wizards, football players, werewolves, nurses, and super-heroes.

  Cord’s a gladiator. Rog and Kevin took the pickup up the service road. Everything’s set.

  All good here.

  U sure u don’t want to come with?

  I’m sure.

  Ur loss. U really love her that much?

  I do.

  More than me?

  I never loved you.

  Jerk.

  Before Zach could reply, Katrina gripped his arm. Startled, he tried to shove his phone into his pocket, but his blaster blocked it. Katrina turned him to face a burly man in a tuxedo of forest green and a porcelain jack-o’-lantern mask engraved with scrolls of fine, archaic writing, secured by flame-colored ribbons.

  “I’m truly happy to see you here, son,” Arthur Van Bollin said.

  Shaking the man’s hand, Zach nodded. “I’m honored you’d have me. Everyone in town dreams of getting an invitation here.”

  “People here and pretty much anywhere else they’ve heard of our Festival. Folks come from all over these days. The Festival has become quite the tourist attraction. Good for business, good for the town. Lots of money coming in. The bad old days are far behind us. Of course, no tourists ever score invitations to the Midnight Masque. Can’t have that. This is only for those of us who call the mountains home. You should see the emails
we get, begging and pleading. Make no mistake, Zach, you’re right to be honored, but the invitation is only icing on the cake. The true honor is you’ll be family soon. Family outshines everything. We don’t bring young men into the Bollin fold idly. But you make Katrina happy. I know I could ever fill your father’s shoes, of course, but I hope I can fill an empty part of your life.”

  Zach swallowed then stammered, “My father…” but only angry words and accusations came to mind, so he held his tongue.

  “He’d be proud of how you’ve made his business a success. A less stubborn man might be here celebrating with you, I suppose. I hear folks come up all the way from Albany for your custom car services. That true?”

  “Bollin’s Creek is so out of the way, those customers are few and far between. I do a lot more oil changes and brake jobs to pay the bills.”

  “Why not take your talent elsewhere? Get yourself a reality TV show. I’ve seen that Jeep you made over like a Star Wars fighter ship for Force Insurance in Hackett. It’s good enough for the bigtime.”

  “Leave Bollin’s Creek? No, doesn’t feel right.”

  The changeless expression of Van Bollin’s pumpkin mask rattled Zach; he couldn’t tell if Katrina’s father smiled or sneered behind it. “Wise words. And, believe me, we’ll be glad to put your creativity and skills to work for the Halloween Festival. Here, let me snap a picture of you and Kat.”

  Zach’s heart jumped as Van Bollin took the phone from his hand, and Katrina sidled in close to him. Every last drop of moisture in his throat dried up. He prayed the text window had closed. Then the camera flash blinded him while Katrina rubbed the back of his neck, and her father returned his phone.

  “You kids have fun. I’ve got people to entertain. See you at midnight for the unmasking.”

  “Daddy likes you a lot,” Katrina said.

  She sipped her wine, while Zach downed half his beer to soothe his dry throat.

  “Guess I’m lucky,” he said.

  “We make our own luck. I see how much you love this town. You’ll fit in perfectly with our family. You’ll hardly remember all the years you spent without one.”

  Zach withdrew from Katrina, too reflexively to stop himself.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “What a dumb thing for me to say.”

  “Forget it.”

  “No. Growing up alone is part of what made you the man I love. So is what happened between our fathers. I don’t want to ever forget that, but I want you to be happy with us.”

  Finishing off his beer, Zach tossed the bottle into a recycling bin and took Katrina’s hand.

  “I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t be,” he said, pulling her toward the music.

  They eased through the crowd, close to the band, now rocking through Screaming Lord Sutch’s “Jack the Ripper,” and they danced.

  ***

  As the night grew long, Zach spied Tamara in her iridescent gown, always with Cord in tow, and she ignoring the lascivious looks men cast her way when the light caught her right and gave glimpses of her body within her wispy costume. She ignored Zach, even when they passed close on the dancefloor, and her indifference chilled him. She had planned tonight for more than two years, from before she and Zach ever spoke, before she introduced him to Katrina, maybe even longer.

  The band finished off Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” then announced a short break.

  Katrina seized Tamara in a manic hug. Zach caught up and gave Cord a nod.

  “Can you believe we’re all here together?” Katrina said.

  “It’s like a dream come true,” said Tamara.

  Katrina pulled Zach to her side.

  “Cord, take a picture of me with my best friend and my fiancé.”

  Cord dug out his phone and snapped a shot.

  “Take one with mine,” Tamara said, digging into the folds of her dress.

  Katrina play-swatted her arm. “Forget it. Cord can send it to all of us, right, Cord?”

  “You bet,” said Cord as he hit send. He put his arm around Zach’s shoulders. “Hey, amigo, let’s grab a fresh round.”

  They walked to the nearest bar and ordered. While the bartender poured, Cord leaned in close and said, “You better be ready, Reynolds. That pussy costume of yours doesn’t give me a lot of confidence. A fucking unicorn? That’s some My Little Pony shit.”

  “Kiss my ass, Cord. We wouldn’t even be here if not for me.”

  “If not for Tamara, you mean.”

  Zach put his hands around two drinks, but Cord squeezed his wrist, hard.

  “As long as it plays out how Tam said, everything will go fine.”

  Cord squeezed harder.

  “I mean it, Reynolds. Kat’s told Tam stories about this since her first sleepover here in the second grade. No one outside the Van Bollin family knows more about the mountain vault or the Many Hands inside the Mountain.”

  “You really believe they killed the men who built the vault then slaughtered and buried them up there to keep the secret?”

  “Why not? The family goes up there once a year to pay homage or some bullshit. This year, we’re going too. We got one shot at this so when Rog and Kevin arrive you do your part. Understand?”

  “Fuck off. This isn’t high school,” Zach said. “I’ll convince Van Bollin to go along about the vault. You make sure whatever you do to him looks like an accident so I don’t catch any blame. And don’t hurt Katrina, or I promise I’ll rip you in two.”

  Cord snorted. “Like you could take me.”

  Zach held his gaze steady on Cord’s eyes until the flicker of doubt he desired appeared. “You really got a thing for Katrina, huh. How sweet. Hasn’t stopped you from boning Tamara behind my back, but sweet. Yeah, I know all about you two—and I don’t care. She’s using you, she’s using me, she’s using Kat, and I’m using her, and so are you. We’re all using each other, because that’s just how things get done, ain’t it?”

  Cord took his and Tamara’s drinks.

  Zach watched him shoulder a path through the crowd. His phone pinged. The picture from Cord popped up onscreen, Zach between two smiling women dressed like things that didn’t exist.

  He downed a long swallow of beer then rejoined the party.

  ***

  The effigy heralded the unmasking.

  Part piñata, part balloon, part latex foam, it stood twenty feet high, swaying like a parade float, all flowers, crepe paper, and colored streamers. At midnight, servants in orange and black robes wheeled it out from the woods on a rolling platform. The crowd fell silent. All eyes turned to the towering figure, which featured an exaggerated phallus and prominent breasts. An almond-shaped orifice tapered from its cleavage to its waist, sealed with a translucent membrane bulging with piles of jewelry, watches, gold and silver chains, boxes wrapped in orange foil, bags of gold coins, and even rubber-banded stacks of cash. A massive jack-o’-lantern, etched with obscure writing, like Van Bollin’s mask, bobbed on its shoulders. Fires flickered in its eyes and mouth, streaming aromatic smoke.

  The party staff cleared the skull stage and the party debris, damping the candles and braziers, leaving only the bonfire barrels lit. Their black body paint blending into the dark and their white bones reddened by the firelight, the bartenders passed out sticks, each about six feet long and tipped with an iron bulb. Workers hurried a five-foot-high platform with stairs on either side in front of the effigy. When preparations ceased, for a moment the night existed only as wind, shadows, fire, and the crowd’s collective, withheld breath.

  Van Bollin ascended the platform and raised his arms.

  “Thank you for celebrating this special time with us!” His voice resonated from behind his mask. “Your presence means a great deal to my family, but more importantly, to Bollin’s Creek. We have a wonderful town here. May it never change, and our traditions keep us forever prosperous. Tonight we share the wealth!”

  The crowd applauded. Van Bollin waved them quiet.

  “Soon, we’ll play that spe
cial music we hear but once a year, on this very evening. When the first notes sound, all who wish to may don a blindfold, and take three swings.” Van Bollin gestured to the effigy. “Three strikes only. The first to break the seal gets pick of prizes. When all are taken and the music ends, we’ll light this on fire and the unmasking will commence. If no one breaks the seal before the music stops, all this treasure goes up in smoke. Remember to kiss the person next to you when you remove your mask. If it’s not your boyfriend, your girlfriend, your wife, or your husband—well, I hope they’re the understanding type.”

  An outburst of laughter and applause covered his descent.

  Hidden speakers played organ music, dolorous and low, a pulsing rhythm for a melody of reedy pipes and discordant strings. The tempo lumbered. The notes wove a hypnotic sound web as the partyers lined up. The effigy’s membrane vibrated to the music. A woman in a black cat-suit tried first, blindfolded, spun three times, and ushered up the steps by a robed servant. She hit the figure’s arm, leg, and phallus, which shook up and down, eliciting laughter, but missed the membrane with all three swings. Loose bits of paper, flowers, and embers showered down. Next, a man in a knight’s costume tried, and a Mad Hatter waited his turn, along with dozens of others. Kristina took Zach’s arm.

  “Time to go,” she said.

  They slipped away, scooping Tamara and Cord out of the crowd, then joining Van Bollin on the edge of the woods.

  “Everyone here? Good,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  They walked a gravel path among the trees. While the voices from the party faded, the music traveled along, replaying itself in Zach’s mind. The gravel glowed faintly, especially when Zach looked at it sidewise. Eventually, the path ended at a hard-packed dirt road and a Jeep.

  “Get in!” said Van Bollin. “Zach, sit up front with me.”

  Katrina climbed in the back with Tamara and Cord. The engine growled. Van Bollin hit the gas. The Jeep shuddered then rolled into the night. Its headlights revealed the service road up the nearest of the Nasquaiga Mountains, then reduced the woods to a shadowy blur as the vehicle accelerated. A sharp turn sent them up a steep incline. The lights in Zach’s collar played across the dashboard. After a time, when the ground leveled again, the mountain range lay splayed out in every direction beneath stars twinkling high in a cloudless sky. On each peak, a pillar of flame burned, overlooking the valley behind the Van Bollin land.