Page 33 of Spice's Halloween

“What is it?” I demanded, ready to run.

Wisecrack reached out and snagged my cut. “We’re sticking together,” he declared, and I glowered but allowed him to drag me over to where Soar was standing frozen.

My eyes widened. “What the fuck are they?”

In front of me were three figures, all pale white and bald. They turned their heads, and I squealed as I saw razor-sharp teeth and glowing red eyes. There was a dug-up grave, and the coffin was open. Two of them held what looked like a bone to their mouth with flesh hanging off it. The third had his hand inside the coffin, and as I stared, there was a wet slurping noise, and it withdrew its hand, holding a decomposing arm. The creature raised it to its lips, and I shrieked.

“Ghouls. They eat dead flesh but prefer living,” Soar muttered.

All three creatures were watching us and began straightening.

“I’m outta here!” I screeched and took to my heels.

Wisecrack and Soar weren’t far behind.

Blister, Aura and Thunderbird

This was not my idea of fun. Wandering around a fuckin’ cemetery late at night, looking out for stupid kids who think they’re brave enough to come to a graveyard on Halloween. All so we could dig up some dead a-hole. Yeah, I’d rather be in a warm clubhouse with a curry and a beer. I’ve got simple needs.

“Blister, did you hear that?” Aura inquired, turning his head.

“What?” I asked, jarred from my thoughts.

“That sounded like Dynamo screaming,” he said, craning his neck.

Thunderbird laughed in disbelief, and I couldn’t fault him.

“Dynamo wouldn’t scream,” I replied.

“Someone screamed,” Aura insisted.

“Must be kids, it can’t be Dynamo. That bitch doesn’t feel fear,” I responded with a frown.

“Fine,” Aura stated and glanced at a mausoleum.

I hated those fuckers. There was something spooky about placing bodies within four walls and locking the gates to them. Why lock a body in a vault? They’re dead. I shuddered and glanced away. This area was incredibly creepy and old, and my spine tingled in warning.

As we walked through them, something dropped ahead of us. I shone my flashlight in that direction but didn’t see anything.

Aura peered over and narrowed his eyes.

“You see anything?” I asked. My skills were useless at this point. My ability to read an item wasn’t handy in a cemetery unless I wanted to read graves.

Lightning flashed overhead, and I turned to Thunderbird. “Reel it in, brother,” I warned him.

“Something’s wrong,” Thunderbird said, stopping walking and twisting his head.

“Yeah, we stopped outside that witch’s mausoleum,” Aura complained as he shone his torch on it.

“The fuck we did,” I snapped, turning to stare.

Fuck!

There was a local legend about this one particular tomb. Back in seventeen ninety-three, the town of Camden had persecuted and then hung a young woman they thought was a witch. During her trial, she’d cursed the town’s people, and then, when she was hanged, she swore to return in the future. Her entire mausoleum was surrounded by iron fencing that was meant to keep her in the ground.

“That witch is not rising from the dead,” I muttered, eyeing the building carefully.

“What the fuck is that noise?” Aura demanded, and this time it was loud. It sounded like stone scraping against stone.