Page 48 of Your Masked Haunting

My heart rate picks up as I glance at the door she came out of. Mona’s all alone and waiting for me. Drifting toward the wooden frame, I don’t fight the gravity that always pulls me in Mona’s direction.

I balance checking the cameras with grabbing the door handle, debating if I should burst in like the Kool-Aid Man or try to sneak up and scare her. When I glance back down at the screen, I find her holding her makeup and facing the exit like she might decide to leave.

But some indiscernible sparkle twinkles in her eyes. Turning back around, she strides over and plops down in a stool at a different style station, two rows from the door. This room is the heart and soul behind the characters and their appearances. Hair and makeup happen in here, and costumes are next door.

She hooks the heels of her boots on the footrest, opening her makeup bag and emptying the contents onto the countertop in front of the big oval mirror. It’s outlined in glowing light bulbs.

A movie star—that’s what she looks like. Beautiful and tempting. Sealed lips with eyes that say a thousand words, telling endless stories. Most onlookers would see her stone-cold exterior and assume she’s impenetrable and mean.

I don’t understand how others don’t notice that Mona’s armor’s constructed from broken pieces of past versions of herself, ones she’s had to kill over the last twenty-four years to survive, using the death of her vulnerability and softness to shield her from the brutality of the world. She’s strong, brilliant, and so goddamn beautiful.

She’s blasting music on her phone now, swaying to it as she gets lost in her craft. I don’t miss out on my opportunity to silently slip inside, closing, locking, and blocking the door behind me, sealing us completely inside.

Every stroke of her brush, on her eyes or cheeks, captivates me completely, until time seems to fade away around us. My only indication that time isn’t standing completely still is the changing of songs from the overhead speakers, much quieter in here than the hallway.

She’s a master of her craft, and I can see the passion in every application. Her eyelids are glittery, gold and green, fading to a dark smoky eye, with a sharp wing liner that looks sexy as hell. She finishes the look with a pair of fake lashes, the kind applied underneath her lashes with fucking sorcery, setting her eyes ablaze, showing the fire burning deep within.

I’m ten feet from her, having snaked my way through the darkened stations to get closer. I’m watching and waiting to strike, but then she takes her earbuds out. Hmm, I planned on scaring her with my reflection in the mirror. Although scaring her with my voice might be equally fun. Why not both?

Stowing her earbuds in their case, she studies her work in the mirror. She’d better be hyping it up in her mind and not trying to find every tiny imperfection to pick apart.

Positioning myself a row directly behind her, straight back between two stations, I feel my adrenaline spike as I inhale, ready to watch her freak out. Reaching up into my mask, I flip the tiny switch and watch the purple LEDs light up around my eyes.

“It’s a shame that pretty makeup is going to be running down your cheeks when I’m through with you.”

She jumps in her chair at the sound of my voice, her face twisting with panic as she whips around, searching for the source.

“What the fuck?!” she shouts, every muscle in her body tensing, her gaze narrowing and landing on my now-illuminated mask. Fury fueling her movements, she jumps to her feet and spins around, facing me, looking like the cutest firecracker I’ve ever seen. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

I step out from the shadows, enjoying the way her neck tips back to hold my stare as I close the distance between us, not stopping until the toes of our boots touch.

“What’s wrong with me?” I laugh, reaching out and tucking her hair back behind her ears so I can see her pretty face clearly. “I’ve been here for ten minutes, and you had no idea. You need to be better aware of your surroundings, Scaredy-Cat.”

A look of defiance gleams in her eyes, and the moment her lips part to tell me off, I slam my palm over them, stopping her.

“No, no, no. I know. Let me do it for you.” My voice shifts to a mocking, high-pitched tone as I recite what I assume she’d say. “You are out of your fucking mind. I’ve been on edge lately, and now you’re purposefully taunting me. I hate you and your stupid, big, incredible dick.”

Her eyes narrow glaring up at me, clearly unamused.

A muffled groan vibrates against my fingers. While it’s barely audible, I can make out what she’s saying, unsurprising in the least.

“I hate you.”

“I nailed it. God, I know you so fucking well.” I chuckle, leaning my head down toward hers and pressing a kiss against her forehead through the mesh. “I missed you.”

I pull my hand off of her mouth, letting her tell me how much she missed me too.

“You’re still a jerk for that.”

Rolling my eyes and my head back dramatically, I sigh and crane my head down. “Come on. You know you love it when I scare you.” Lashing out, fast and unexpectedly, I grab her throat, my thumb flattening against her carotid. “I can feel it in your pulse. You can’t lie to me.”

“Want to bet?” She crosses her arms, leaning into my touch. “Ask me something.”

Oh, she wants to play a game.

God, I would do anything for this girl.

I mean, seriously, I’m ninety-nine percent sure that I either magically manifested her or she’s a figment of my imagination. Or third option: I’m dead, and this is my version of heaven.