Page 93 of Your Masked Haunting

Their actions remind me of how the haunted house is structured, actors positioned in pivotal places to guide the guests, like herding sheep through a maze. They’re leading me somewhere. I just don’t know exactly where yet, but if I had to guess, it’s toward Barney. Or as Cas would prefer the mask to be referenced as, the purple devil emoji.

My hand glides atop the railing, and a scream rips out of me, echoing through the house as the two Ghostfaces take off, their footsteps pounding into the wood behind me. I fly down the steps, racing down the second story. But another Ghostface is there, blocking me from going anywhere but down to the main level.

Adrenaline is coursing through me, forcing my breaths in and out faster and faster.

“Ticktock. They’re getting close.” Casper’s voice sounds again in my ear, and my entire body flails. I somehow managed to forget yet again about the rubber piece in my ear.

A nervous shiver runs down my body. If this is too much, I can stop. But the adrenaline, mixed with the touch of anxiety, and the sexy voice of Casper in my ear—it’s somehow a combination for ecstasy. I’m scared right now—I am—but I want to keep going.

The front door is cracked open, and I’m guessing that I’m supposed to go through it. Or it’s a trap, and a Ghostface is going to pop out on the other side. Pivoting on the ball of my right foot, I take off, turning toward the lounge seating and⁠—

“Oh my fucking Goddd!” I scream, the bloodcurdling vibrato reminding me of Samara Weaving in Ready or Not.

I smack face-first into a black robe, the same creepy white mask staring down at me as I stumble backward. All blood pools from my body, every single hair standing on end.

He lifts his hand, revealing a silver blade with a maroon handle. Slowly, he waves it back and forth, taking a step toward me at the same time.

My body is screaming at me to fight. I’m having a hard time separating reality from fantasy. It’s how I’ve been forever, battling the aggression desperate to lash out whenever I’m backed into a corner. The problem with that is that the universe scooted me right on into the corner every chance it got.

This isn’t the place to fight with a massively large man wielding a knife or to tell him where he can shove it. I’m trying to be less of a bitch, but it’s still a work in progress.

I slam my eyes shut, taking a few breaths.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

The man freezes along with me, not touching or ushering me to move on. Clearly, he was given the protocol from Casper on how to help me through these moments. Both for my sake and for his because if he had pushed me a tiny bit further, I would’ve kneed him right in the dick.

But thankfully, my guardian devil has all the bases covered. He designed this night incredibly carefully, no detail left out or stone unturned. He’s the reason I feel comfortable right now—at my core at least, somewhere beneath the surface-level fear.

It’s because of Casper that I escaped the armor I had imprisoned myself inside of for so many years. It’s because of him that I know how deep love can go and how full a heart can truly feel.

And it’s because of him that I have the strength to open my eyes, ready or not for whatever’s coming next.

I’m watching the cameras on my phone, tucked away in the shadowed entrance of the corn maze, waiting for the next move as I jump through camera feeds. And then I find her, booking it out of the front door of the house, her hair swooshing violently, her arms pumping at her sides as she flies down the stoop.

A shriek tears through the air, and I would be worried about neighbors calling the cops if I hadn’t already covered that base, giving them a heads-up about the scary movie that’s being filmed here tonight and a generous tip for any distress it might cause.

Three Ghostfaces burst out of the house behind her, and it’s quite a sight as number four joins the ranks at the bottom of the stairs, all of them guiding her right toward me.

“Shit, shit, shit, not the maze.” Her voice echoes in my ear like a warning, but I don’t make a move yet. She may just need a second to work through it.

She starts to zigzag, but the guys keep her on the path, not getting too close to her, just enough to stop her from running in the opposite direction.

“Where are you?” she gasps, at full sprint, quickly closing the distance between us, only about forty feet remaining. “You’re in there, aren’t you?” A tremor of terror breaks her voice.

“Don’t stop now, baby. I have so many things I want to do to you … ” I step forward, standing directly below the wooden arch entrance and lit sign. But the corn extends past it a few feet, offering me a bit of cover. “Come on, Scaredy-Cat. You’re past the scary third act. This is the happy, pleasure-filled resolve.”

Her steps start to slow as she nears, and I tuck my phone in my pocket, not wanting a distraction in sight when she turns and runs straight into me. Which is exactly what she does. One of them steals her attention, and she looks back just long enough so she doesn’t see me strike.

But I don’t go for her neck. I want to up the ante. This is all about giving her this fantasy in a controlled and comfortable environment that simply edges the boundaries, not breaks them. And triggering her assault by grabbing her throat is certainly not going to help that.

“Gotcha,” I murmur.

Her head whips around as I secure her shoulders in my hands, her eyes wide with fear. She doesn’t need or want me to treat her like she’s breakable. Instead, I give her time, a few moments to adjust, to process, and to catch her breath.

Tipping my head up, I nod at the other guys, and they turn and walk off, fist-bumping each other as they go, whispering among themselves—probably about how great they did. Pssh, the egos on those fucks.

“Does it count as a chase if you’re not the one chasing?” Her question is chock-full of attitude, and I think she’s baiting me. Maybe just to be a brat or to lure me out of the maze because she doesn’t want to take another step inside.