Chapter 24

Istumble over to the haunted house here at the Tavern of Terror as Halloween night begins to hit its crescendo.

There's still no sign of Coop, but I've got a killer to hunt down and maybe kill one of my targets if I play my uncle's cards right. And speaking of kill, I've got a bullet earmarked for poor Coop, too.

I push the homicidal thought out of my mind for now. I've got until midnight to deal with that. I'm sort of a twisted Cinderella that way.

The back entry to the house of horrors is dimly lit with a plethora of spiderwebs and skeletons to traverse as I head deeper inside. I'm about to inspect every ghoulish nook and cranny this haunted hovel has to offer when I spot Naomi walking in this direction, her head on a platter—a look I'm becoming accustomed to when it comes to my nemesis.

"Naomi." I jump in front of her and note that her head is adorned with a crown of fun-size candy bars, so I scoop a few up with the hand I'm holding Watson with and shove them into the pocket of my cape. Yes, my cape has pockets, and that's exactly why I'll be reprising this look until spring. Those vampire fashion designers really do understand a woman's needs. I scoop up another handful for the sake of balancing out my costume. Besides, everyone knows food is fuel, and chocolate is basically nuclear energy when it comes to me. "Do you know where I can find Johnny?" I ask, peeling open a fun-size Snickers and popping it into my mouth posthaste.

"I think so." Naomi shrugs, and believe me when I tell you a shrug without a head to go with it is a disconcerting look. "The guy who was supposed to play the part of the ax murderer didn't show up, so Johnny had to cover. He's upstairs, third nightmare on the right," she shouts before leading a pack of spooky patrons out onto the patio.

"An ax murderer? Just my luck," I mutter to Watson and Spooky as the three of us shiver and quiver our way through the ever-darkening hall and over to the stairwell.

With every step I take, the air grows thick with an eerie chill, and the dim lighting casts ominous shadows across the walls. Ghoulish figures leap out from hidden alcoves, eliciting startled yelps from my pooches and me. So much for protecting me with their canine prowess.

My heart pounds in my chest as I navigate through the maze of horrors, and every creak of the floorboards, every distant moan sends a shiver down my spine—and more than a couple of screams from my lips.

I venture deeper into the haunted house, and with each step, the atmosphere becomes increasingly sinister. The corridors are narrow. The decrepit wallpaper is peeling. And it all creates a creepy backdrop for the horrors that lurk within—lots and lots of horrors.

Confession: I'm not so keen on Halloween. I'm specifically not so keen on Halloween while walking through a haunted house.

Cobwebs dangle from the ceiling, swaying in the faint breeze while flickering torches cast shadows across the uneven floor.

I traverse goblins, ghouls, and enough demented clowns to take over Congress before I hit the stairwell and fight my way upstream as an endless cache of screaming teenagers bypass me at the speed of light as they run in the opposite direction.

Instinctively, I realize that I should never go against the grain when it comes to a crowd shrieking in terror. But it's Halloween and we're in a haunted house. This is all makeup, smoke, and mirrors, right?

I'm about to crest the landing when I hear a deep voice shout my name from the ground floor.

"Effie Canelli," he thunders again. "Wait for me."

I turn around, half-afraid it's the Grim Reaper himself, but much to my relief, it's Cooper looking lean, mean, and far more delicious than the chocolate I stuffed into my cape. Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind stuffing him into my cape either.

"Fancy meeting you here," I say as he dots a kiss to my lips and takes Spooky from me.

"I'm sorry I'm late. But glad I get to join you for the adventure." He glowers at the top of the stairwell where the creepy music only seems to get louder and purple lights blink off and on in a spasm. "You sure you don't want to eat dinner first? I hear it's pretty gory up there. It might ruin your appetite."

"Have you met me?" I'd laugh, but I've met me. "Nothing can ruin my appetite," I say. Other than pumping a bullet into his back perhaps. And note I said perhaps. "Besides, I've got a hot date with an ax murderer. You can tag along if you like."

"A hot date, huh?" he muses as we climb the rest of the stairwell. "Good thing I'm packing heat. I'm not so keen on anyone dating the woman I'm destined to create a race of super Italians with."

"You laugh, but I'll have you know Nona Jo's predictions have come true time and time again. She has a one hundred percent prediction rate. The circus back in the old country tried to get her to join in on the traveling fun. They even said she could charge whatever rates she wanted for her sideshow act, but she had marinara on the stove, a bun in the oven—my father—and a husband to keep in line. I'm pretty sure she eschewed a fortune in the name of family."

"Family first has always been my motto as well," Coop says, lifting Spooky a notch as if he were toasting me with him.

"Aww," I coo.

Cooper really is perfect.

Such a pity he has to die.

I really should call my uncle. But first, there's the business of that ax murderer.

Cooper steps ahead and leads the way through the maze of horrors and I hook my free arm around him and bury my face in his shoulder as we traverse killer clowns, men with chainsaws, witches with flying monkeys, and the most terrifying creatures of all—haunted dolls.

"I think the ax murderer is up next," Cooper says as he points to a sign that reads, beware of the lunatic lumberjack.

"Wonderful," I whimper and Watson joins in with me. This is probably a good time to let Cooper in on the fact I'm about to accuse the lunatic in the room before us of murder. "Okay, Coop, there's probably something I need to tell you—" I start just as a group of teenagers runs out of the room screaming their heads off—and a couple of them called out for their mommies.

I'm starting to wish my mother was here, too. She might be diminutive in size, but that foot-tall beehive gives her an abundance of power.

Not only could she take down any lunatic with just one look, but her razor-sharp tongue could make a grown man cry. Just ask my father—and maybe Cooper if something should go severely wrong when I accuse the ax murderer of well, murder.