Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Finally, a faint glow emanated from ahead. Jamie followed it, the scent of fog and sawdust thick in their nose. The tunnel opened just enough that Jamie could stand, and then they were hurrying toward the exit. They cleared the door in a rush of relief. Just as the feeling swelled, a terrifying figure strafed them, trailing bandages, eyes glowing holes. The smell of metal and rot lingered in their wake, and the second act of the haunted house commenced.
“Dude,” Jamie said to Dante, who stood in the doorway. “That’s really working.”
Dante, one of Jamie’s favorite coworkers, nodded and smiled, his white teeth gleaming in the darkness. “Cool. What’s left?”
“I think we could fill the sandbags a little more, especially at the top. We should get Maurice to go through and see where they hit him.”
At six four, Maurice was their gauge for whether the illusion was maintained for tall people.
Dante agreed.
“And I know it messes with the texture, but we’re gonna need to pad the ceiling in the crawl-through tunnel. If anyone freaks out and sits up, they’ll get brained.”
“Spray foam or sheet, do you think?”
“Spray would be faster and easier to do but harder to strike. Sheet would take longer to put in but come out easily. Your call when we do most of the work.”
“Spray,” Dante concluded immediately. Striking the haunted house was the worst part of their job, and Jamie would’ve made the same call. “Now about those spiderwebs…”
***
Edgar’s invitation had come as Jamie was driving home from work: I know this is maybe not fun, but I’m at my sister’s. Any interest in coming over and hanging out? Jamie was exhausted and smelled like haunted ass, but they hadn’t seen Edgar in a week, so they turned around at the next block.
Allie lived in the Irish Channel, not far from Magpie Vintage. Jamie threw their truck into park and sniffed tentatively under their arms. Not good. Outside, the day was turning to evening, but a few honeybees still feasted on the wisteria. They hummed along lazily, pollen-drunk and dizzy. Outside of Allie’s place, it smelled of jasmine, fry oil, and beer.
It was Poe who opened the door, Edgar fast on his heels.
“Hey,” Poe said, looking frazzled. “Welcome to hell.”
Edgar elbowed him, his eyes warm on Jamie’s. “Hi. Come in. Thanks for coming.”
Edgar shifted his weight from foot to foot like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss or hug Jamie in front of his brother. A pang of hurt clanged in Jamie’s gut at the rejection. They’d certainly dated people before who claimed to care for them, as long as no one was watching.
But when they looked into Edgar’s eyes, all they saw was longing. He wasn’t ashamed of Jamie—he just didn’t know how to behave, and he was looking to Jamie to show him.
Jamie fixed their eyes on Edgar and stepped forward, sliding a hand around his waist and the other on his shoulder. They kissed him gently on the lips.
Edgar leaned into the kiss and buried his fingers in Jamie’s hair. The feeling in Jamie’s stomach twisted from hurt to glee as they felt Edgar’s yearning. Jamie’s presence wasn’t a burden. He wanted them—needed them. And it felt really, really good.
“Sorry I smell so bad. I was crawling around in a bunch of—soft, cheerful, uh, dirt,” they concluded, not wanting to inadvertently plant any seeds of fear in Edgar’s fertile mind.
Edgar squeezed their shoulder in thanks and turned and walked into the living room, Jamie and Poe trailing after him.
Jamie leaned close to Poe. “So what’s this about hell?”
“I dunno, dude. If you like babies, it’s probably great. But I…do not.”
Allie sat on the couch with the baby in her arms. They wore a plain white onesie and had a shock of dark brown hair that stuck up like a fledgling crow’s feathers. Their brown eyes were round and heavy lidded, and they blinked up at Jamie, Poe, and Edgar with interest.
Jamie preferred older kids who could draw weird pictures of monsters and make hilariously inappropriate comments in polite company, but Allie’s baby was pretty darn cute.
Jamie began to ask Allie how she was doing when the baby puked on her stomach and all over the couch cushion. Niceties dispensed with, the adults sprang into action, then, once everything was clean again, flopped onto the couch together.
“Here’s the thing,” Allie said once she’d changed. “This baby is clearly a demon sent here to collect my soul. But I love them so much that I guess I’ll let them do it? Nice knowing you.”
“I know you’re kidding,” Jamie said. “But could demons exist?”
Allie shrugged and gestured to the baby, who was burbling adorably in her lap.
Jamie looked to Edgar.
“I don’t know,” he mused. “Since there are ghosts, there could just as well be demons.”
“Vampires?” Jamie asked hopefully.