Chapter 11

Chapter

Eleven

" T here was something in here, Hayes," I whisper. "I felt it, I saw it. It wasn't just a trick."

Hayes furrows his brow, his eyes searching my face for any hint that I might be joking. He’s clearly unsure whether to take me seriously or brush it off as me losing my mind. "Tori, this entire place is a Halloween attraction, you know this,” he says gently, his tone full of concern and skepticism. “What’s really gotten you so upset?"

I meet his gaze, but I’m at a loss for words. How can I explain the bone-chilling cold that seeped into me or the wave of despair that flooded over me when that shadow was beside me?

“Come on, let me show you,” Hayes says, his hand warm and reassuring on my shoulder as he leads me out of the bar. The old wooden floorboards creak under our feet—a sound I didn’t hear when that shadow was moving around. The hairs on the back of my neck prick up.

Agatha is standing at the end of the hallway, her figure half-hidden in the shadows.

“Agatha, did you have something to do with the lights?" Hayes calls out, trying to lighten the mood with a playful smile.

Agatha turns slowly, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Oh, the spirits were just having a little fun," she replies, her voice low and grim, making my head swim.

“See, it’s all part of the act. None of this is real,” Hayes says as we walk down the hallway, his tone confident.

But his words don’t comfort me; they make me feel worse. The unease in my stomach grows, twisting into a knot. Hayes shakes his head in amusement, clearly not understanding the level of my anxiety, and leads me outside the front door into the crisp night air. The sudden change in temperature hits me like a splash of ice water, and I take a deep breath, trying to calm my frayed nerves. The estate is silent, save for the rustling of the leaves in the wind and one lone distant hoot of an owl.

At least I hope it’s an owl.

"Feeling better?" Hayes asks, rubbing my back in slow, soothing circles. His touch is grounding, but my mind is still frantic.

I nod, leaning into him for comfort."A little. I just can't shake this feeling that there's more going on here than just some Halloween fun; it feels a little…personal," I admit, my voice trembling slightly. The eerie events replay in my mind, each one more vivid and creepier than the last. But how come no one else is complaining? How come no one else is as scared as I am?

I’m being singled out. The thought hits me hard. Lyle must be targeting me . He’s trying to prove all the things he told me when we met. Or maybe he’s pissed off I left his house without telling him my real name. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense. I have to tell Hayes about Lyle. He’s taking things a little too far.

“Hayes,” I say, looking up at him. “I need to tell you something.” I should just spit it out, like ripping off a band-aid. Just say it all.

“Okay,” he says, sitting down on a step and patting the space next to him.

I swallow hard, feeling like I might be sick. It’s so hard to be real and vulnerable with my feelings in front of people. “I didn’t meet Lyle in line for coffee,” I begin, sitting down hard on the cold marble step. “I met him at a bar…and I went home with him.”

Hayes shows no expression, he just blankly stares at me. “Did you sleep with him?”

I take a deep breath, bracing myself. “Yes.”

“Now I understand the way he was watching you eat your sandwich and fries,” he says with a small smile. “He’s got it bad for you.”

“You’re not angry?” I ask, shocked.

“Why would I be angry? I slept with my nephew’s preschool teacher four nights ago, are you mad?”

“No,” I say. “I just thought you’d feel…” I can’t finish. I can’t assume Hayes would feel any way, I don’t want to make the same mistakes I did with Jonathan.

“You thought I’d have some sort of retroactive jealousy?” he asks.

“I’ve never heard it called that, but yes,” I admit.

He lifts a hand to my chin, tilting my face so our eyes meet. “You’re a beautiful woman, Tori. It would be foolish of any man to think you don’t have a past.”

I decide to be fully honest.“Jonathan always thought my past was, uh, very crowded.”

“I’m not Jonathan. And God, Tori, I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says softly, brushing his lips over mine. “Forget about the past. We could have a future—just you and me.” He kisses me, tender and soft. “If that’s something you want,” he adds, pulling back slightly.

“I’d like that,” I say, but doubt lingers. “It’s just… a lot of guys have said that to me, and then when they find out about my past?—”

“Tori, I’ve slept with a lot of people too. It’s not an issue, trust me.”

Maybe he doesn’t care enough to make it an issue, or maybe he genuinely doesn’t mind. I shake my head. “Okay,” I say, deciding to let it go for now. “We can talk about it more another time. But right now, I think there’s more to this thing with Lyle.”

He leans back, eyes curious.

“I think all the stuff happening in the house is aimed at me because I slept with Lyle. He’s behind it all.”

Hayes looks thoughtful. “But the things happening—they’re just pranks in good fun, right? Or is there something more serious you’re talking about?”

I’ve been so genuinely confused and scared that I’m not totally sure. Scratching sounds, weird texts, the black rose, my belongings rearranged, the bizarre ketchup thing. None of it has been physically harmful, has it? Crap, is this all in my head? Am I overreacting?

“I guess they were just pranks,” I say, uncertainty creeping into my voice.

I want to say more, to talk it all through, but the sound of an approaching car grabs our attention. We turn to see a sleek black sedan pulling up the gravel drive, its headlights slicing through the darkness. The engine purrs softly as it comes to a stop, and the crunch of gravel under the tires echoes in the still night.

The doors open with a quiet click, and Tessa and Griffin step out, their faces briefly illuminated by the soft glow of the front lights. Griffin surveys the scene with a serious expression, his eyes scanning the shadows as if expecting something to leap out at any moment.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Tessa asks, pulling the zipper of her hoodie up and sitting down next to us.

I glance at Hayes, who nods for me to explain. “I saw something inside,” I say, my voice thin, just a wisp of sound. “Something that didn’t feel like part of the attraction. It just... freaked me out. But I’m okay now.”

“What was it?” Tessa asks, leaning closer.

“The lights went out and…” I hesitate, because the words sound so childish saying them out loud. “It doesn’t matter, I just got caught up in my feels, but it’s all part of the ambiance of the place, right?”

Tessa gives me a reassuring smile. "Of course it is! This whole place is designed to give you a fright. That's why it's the best Halloween attraction around. You're supposed to get spooked. Look, it's almost six." She glances down at her watch. "We should head to the dining room. Agatha planned a special dinner for us."

“I thought you were feeling like lobster tonight,” I say, standing up, dusting off the bottom of my pants.

“Agatha promised me this would be better. Come on, I’m starving.”

Hayes takes my hand, intertwining our fingers, sending a spark of warmth up my arm. I quickly glance around to see if anyone notices. Tessa gives me a quick wink, and Griffin smirks. “Isn’t that cute.” He chuckles. “Maybe this will calm down the other two.”

“God, Griff, shut up,” Tessa mutters.

“Wait, what’s going on?” I ask, and Hayes brings my hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against my fingers. I actually giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Jonathan and Marissa have been at each other’s throats all day,” Griffin says as we walk through the front doors. “If you two are together now, maybe they’ll finally shut up. Today was supposed to be relaxing, but it felt like being back home with my parents fighting.”

Tessa purses her lips. “It was awful.”

I want to hear more, but I’m too ashamed to ask.

The aroma of rich, savory food draws us into the manor's grand dining room. The table is elegantly set, but the sight of the food stops us in our tracks. Everything is gray—the soup, the main course, even the desserts on the side table. It all looks dull and unappetizing. Thank God I’m still full from my sandwich.

"Uh, is this some kind of joke?" Griffin asks, eyeing a plate of gray roasted chicken warily, as he sits down.

“I’m not eating that,” Hayes murmurs. “It looks horrible.”

“Don’t be chickens,” Tessa whisper-yells, trying to sound braver than she looks.

Agatha sweeps into the room with a flourish. “It’s all perfectly edible and quite delicious, I assure you. Just a little Halloween trick to test your bravery in a different way.”

We all stare at her like she sprouted four heads and a pig’s tail.

“Well, come now, dig in,” she cackles.

Nobody moves. We continue gawking, unsure whether to laugh or leave.

Tessa’s eyes are wide, almost on the verge of tears.

“Okay, I’ll go first,” I say, taking a tentative bite. I brace myself for the worst, but to my surprise, the chicken is crisp, well-seasoned, and bursting with flavor. “Wow, this is actually really good,” I say, laughing. “Seriously, try it. It’s delicious.”

Griffin is the next to take a bite. His eyes widen as he chews. “It is good,” he agrees, a goofy grin spreading across his face.

Tessa takes a forkful of gray mashed potatoes, shoves it into her mouth, and squeezes her eyes shut. “Oh, wait. That is good.”

Looking quite pleased, Agatha moves around the table, pouring us all a glass of dark red wine. As I take my first sip, I hear Jonathan and Marissa’s raised voices from the hallway. "I told you, we were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago," Marissa snaps, her voice dripping with irritation.

"And I told you, it doesn't matter! We're here now, aren't we?" Jonathan retorts. “Fix your face, you look like shit.”

The dining room doors swing open, and Marissa and Jonathan walk in, their faces tight with frustration, clearly in the middle of a heated argument.

“Great. Now dinner will be ruined too,” Griffin mumbles under his breath, exchanging a look with Hayes.

“Ew,” Marissa complains loudly. “What is all that gray stuff?” The entire mood in the room shifts as we look up at Marissa’s red-rimmed eyes.

“I promise it’s delicious, try it,” Tessa says.

“I’d rather die,” Marissa says, flatly.

Jonathan sits down across from me and starts eating, ignoring Marissa, who refuses to even sit at the table. She stands at the end with her arms crossed, glaring daggers at him.

Griffin points to the untouched plate in front of Marissa. “If you’re not going to eat that, can I have it?”

“Knock yourself out,” she snaps.

Agatha, seemingly unfazed by the tension, suddenly brandishes a large knife with a wild grin. “Now,” she announces, her voice filled with excitement, “once you’ve finished your meal, we’ll gather in the kitchen for pumpkin carving. It’s a Halloween tradition here at the manor, and the spirits demand it. Everything is ready for us.”

“The spirits demand it,” Jonathan scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Marissa’s eyes narrow, her glare fixed on Agatha’s. “Do the spirits want to tell me what they did to my clothes?”

“What happened to your clothes?” Tessa asks, mid-chew.

“When we got back from the spa, they were piled in the middle of the room, soaked and reeking of piss,” Marissa snaps.

I choke on my wine, my eyes watering as I try to hold back a cough.

Hayes leans closer, his eyes twinkling with barely contained laughter. “Was that you?” he whispers.

“No, I swear it was just a dream. Unless I was sleepwalking,” I murmur, my cheeks flushing.

He stifles a laugh and squeezes my hand under the table. “Still, pretty impressive,” he jokes.

Wait, is he proud of me because he thinks I actually peed all over Marissa’s clothes? Oh my God, could I have done that? “I was under the influence of Tessa’s gummies,” I say low.

“That’ll do it.” He chuckles.

“It’s not funny, Hayes!” Marissa whines, her voice sharp with frustration. “My clothes are all Chanel!”

An uncomfortable silence settles over the room, everyone avoiding eye contact. Then, without warning, Agatha slams the knife down into the table with a loud thwack. The sound reverberates through the room. She twists the blade, causing it to rattle back and forth against the wood.

Everyone freezes, the air thick with tension, the knife still quivering in the table like a silent threat.

“You’re all making the spirits very restless,” Agatha warns, her voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “The dead have their rules here, and if the guests don’t follow them, there’s hell to pay. If I were you, I’d change your attitude.” She yanks the knife from the table, holding it in her hand like a threat.

The air in the room thickens, and the once-delicious food turns heavy in my mouth, the taste sour and metallic. I force myself to swallow, trying not to choke.

Tessa’s eyes widen as she grips her fork tightly, like it’s a lifeline. Marissa and Jonathan’s argument fades into the background, their faces paling as they fixate on Agatha.

Griffin, of course, is smirking. Hayes holds back a laugh.

“Right,” Jonathan says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sorry.”

Well, then. That’s a word I’ve never heard come out of his mouth before.

Agatha smiles, but there’s no warmth in it—just a cold, harsh glare that makes a hair-raising sensation skitter up my back. “That’s better,” she purrs, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. “Now, finish your meals. You wouldn’t want to keep the spirits waiting.”

A low, distant creak echoes from somewhere deep within the chateau, followed by a faint, almost imperceptible whisper that seems to snake through the room. I glance at the others, their eyes reflecting the same mix of confusion and disbelief. What was that noise?

“Well, I’m going up to my room to clean my clothes,” Marissa barks.

“What about carving pumpkins?” Tessa asks.

“I’m not ten, Tessa. I don’t want to carve a stupid pumpkin,” Marissa retorts.

Agatha’s eyes narrow as Marissa storms out of the dining room. “Oh, she’s going to regret that,” she murmurs in a tone that makes it sound less like a warning and more like a promise.