Finally I look at Perry. “And you, kiddo?”
She gives me a wan smile. “You know how I feel. I’m scared. That hasn’t changed. But I think there’s a part of me that’s excited too. More than that, I’m focused on what the money can bring us. It makes handling these fears worth it.”
“So you’re not scared enough to put up your hand and tell me no?”
“Dex, you know I will if it comes to it.”
That I know. I’ve had more than enough experience putting Perry in risky and dangerous situations where she’s put up her hand and told me it was too much.
Unfortunately, there’ve been a few occasions where I’ve ignored that and pushed her anyway. I’d like to think I’ve grown out of that.
“Okay then,” Ada says, clapping her hands together. “Then it’s settled. We’re going, and we’re going to have some fun while we’re at it. Dex, you’re first.”
“First with what?”
She grins, pulling out a few tubes of face makeup and a sponge, coming at me like a serial killer. “Your costume.”
A couple of hours later, the four of us are sitting in the fireside lounge at the Sorrento Hotel in the First Hill neighborhood, drinking beer and mulled wine, all of us in costume (along with everyone else in this place).
Ada decided to go the sexy Mother of Dragons route from Game of Thrones, her hair braided and little dragons stuck all over her, while Jay got off easy and is just wearing a kilt. He’s supposed to be some character from Outlander, and with his stupid chiseled face he probably fits the role well.
Perry doesn’t look that different from normal. Her long black hair is in soft waves, she’s wearing red lipstick that shows off the shape of her plump perfect lips. But she’s poured herself into a long black velvet gown that is way too tight for her breasts and they’re spilling over like they’re trying to escape their velvet prison.
She’s Morticia Addams.
My teenage crush. I don’t even want to think about all the hours I spent jacking off to Angelica Houston in those movies.
I feel like Ada knew I’d lose my mind over this, hence why she got it for Perry, and she was right. I am going fucking mental, peeling back the labels on my beer bottle like I’ve got SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED written all over my face.
Then there’s me.
Naturally, I’m Gomez Addams.
Not that I’m particularly complaining. Though I’ve been wearing more of a beard lately, I shaved it off and left the mustache. Ada darkened it with black paint, put white makeup on the rest of my face, then ringed my eyes with dark liner. I slicked my hair off my face with a fuckload of gel, and put on a ridiculously ill-fitting striped suit that smells like plastic, and then the bowtie.
I have to say, I look the part.
And just like Gomez continuously lusted after his wife, I’m doing the same to mine.
But Perry’s mind is elsewhere again, and even though the restroom is right around the corner, and I would be very, very quick with her, she did tell me to keep it in my pants. So I sit back, drink my beer, and take it out on the label.
The reason we’re at this hotel is because it’s in the neighborhood of Harry Cox’s house (not even snickering at his name anymore). First Hill is directly east of downtown, and one of the oldest residential areas of the city. The buildings and religious institutions here are vibing with energy, and the address he gave us is about a ten-minute walk from here. Plus, a few pre-ghost-hunting cocktails will probably help with the nerves.
Jay looks around at the wood-paneled walls of the lounge. “You know this place is haunted, right?”
“What?” Perry and I both say in unison, our heads swiveling toward him.
He gives us a curious look. “I thought you would have both picked up on that. This Veil is very thin here. There are things I’m seeing that you’re obviously not.”
I glance at Perry and she shrugs. “I’m not seeing anything unusual,” she says, her eyes scanning the crowd. “Though everyone is in costume so that doesn’t help. I mean that guy over there is dressed as a tub of Mayonnaise.”
“I don’t see anything either,” Ada says. “Oh wait, what about that vampire in the corner over there?”
Jay looks over his shoulder at the vampire trying to sip a cocktail with his fangs and laughs. “Not a ghost.”
For a moment I thought my ability was hampered by the medication, but if every normal person couldn’t see them, then it wasn’t just me.
“Maybe we’re all a little rusty,” I tell him, glancing at the grandfather clock by the fireplace. “And maybe we should get going. Doesn’t hurt to be early.”
“You, on time for something?” Perry asks incredulously, finishing her drink. “I don’t believe it.”
I get to my feet and hold out my hand. “Believe it, Cara Mia,” I say in my best Gomez impression.
I can tell by the way her cheeks go pink that she likes this as much as I do. I don’t know how I could be attractive with this particular mustache, and the eye makeup, but I guess it does something for her.
But my plans for ravishing her will have to wait until we get home, whether that’s tonight or in the early morning hours.
“You know,” Jay says to me as we leave the hotel, stepping out into the foggy, cold night. Firecrackers go off in the distance, the air smelling acidic. “If you ever do think about starting up your show again, that hotel would be a great place to start.”
“That ain’t happening,” Perry says, giving Jay a sharp look. “There’s a reason why we’re not filming this. Tonight is about the money, not a step backward.”
“Tell me how you really feel,” I say under my breath.
“Dex,” she says, pulling at my arm, eyes flashing. “Please tell me that this is just a one-time thing. Unless someone else wants to pay us an obscene amount of money, we’re not doing this again. We have to agree on that.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I tell her, but I can tell from the way Jay’s looking at me that he’s thinking about what I said yesterday. He only had to help just this once.
I ignore him and try to keep my thoughts focused on tonight, not the future, not where this might take us, as tempting as that might be.
We walk down the dark street, fallen leaves crunching beneath our feet. There are still a few groups of trick-or-treaters straggling about, but most of them are idle drunk teenagers trying to make the night last. It’s nearly ten p.m., only two more hours until the supposed witch holiday comes to an end.
“This should be the house, right on the corner,” I say, staring at the GPS on my phone. We come to a stop and stare.
The house is haunted as fuck.
I don’t have to see anything spooky to know it, and judging from the chill in the air, the silence that thickens between the four of us, we’re all feeling it.
The house is three-stories tall, the bottom half brick, the rest timbered. In the dim light of the flickering streetlight, it looks sick in color, this yellowish beige, framed with dark brown. The windows on the first two levels are all boarded up and the house looks completely dark, save for a faint light coming from one of the windows on the third floor.