Page 80 of Bitten By the Basilisk

“The effects, of course!” Alice replied laughingly, surprised her mom would even ask. “I guarantee you’ll have people begging for extra showings.”

Mom’s face lit up at the prospect.

After they chatted another moment wherein they met the other stagehands, Silas invited her mom to join them for dinner, but Mom already had plans to eat a quick meal with some of the other cast and crew before everyone had to return to set up for the second, final show of the night.

Alice and Silas made sure to collect her kite and festival booth purchases from backstage, took them to Silas’s car for safekeeping, and walked to a more formal, sit-down restaurant on the boardwalk, where they talked over dinner and drinks.

She learned more about the nest and his role as Basilisk, and Silas asked engaged questions about art—both hers and in general—to a point where she could tell he was filing away every detail for future reference.

He once again devoured a rather substantial meal, and his golden eyes did the same to her, the heat in his gaze warming her far more than her glass of wine did. As she spooned bites of crème brûlée into her mouth, he watched with open longing that she purposefully misinterpreted to mean he wanted a taste of her dessert.

“You know very well what I want for dessert, kitten,” he purred in rejoinder. “And it’s not eaten with a utensil.”

“An ice cream cone?” she wisecracked, smiling at her own wit.

His low chuckle sent warmth swirling though her core.

After dinner, they strolled hand in hand along the boardwalk, window-shopping and skirting around spirits the surrounding normies believed were fake projections for Hallowe’en Week, based on how casually they stopped to take a photo or selfie.

The ghost of a dockworker stood outside what was now a pizzeria, drinking from a wooden stein. In an alley was another ghost, of a woman in a work dress, who was scrubbing a shirt over a washboard.

Outside of Whirlpool Arcade, a small, rotating crowd of normies spectated a brawling pair of ghosts. The two long-dead sailors exchanged blows until one pulled a knife and stabbed the other. The victor then took a small satchel from the coat of the dying sailor, before the scene began again.

“A long time ago, there was a casino in this spot,” Silas explained. “No one knows exactly how this fight started, but one can speculate.”

“Do they do this every night?” she asked, mildly horrified that passersby were largely unaware they were witnessing a real murder, albeit one that had happened many generations back.

Silas shook his head. “Only when the veil is thin.” He tugged her toward the door of the arcade. “Want to go in?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Really? You don’t mind?”

“Why would I mind?”

She shrugged, somewhat self-conscious. “Don’t most people consider an arcade to be a waste of money? Juvenile?”

“There’s nothing you could ever want that would be a waste of money,” he declared as he reached for the pull bar of the arcade’s front door, his answer sending a thrill through her middle. “And I see plenty of other adults inside.”

A cacophony of music, sound effects, the clacks of Skee-Balls, and shouts of victory or dismay filled the arcade. Numerous neon signs glowed from the exposed brick walls. Though it was busy, only a few machines had anyone waiting for a turn.

Half the available games were arcade cabinets, but there was also a row of pinball tables, an air hockey table, a couple of rhythm games, and several claw machines. The prize counter also sold nonalcoholic drinks, and a few bar tables occupied the more open spaces.

Silas obtained a bucket of tokens that they first took to the arcade cabinets to play whatever was available. They got pretty far beating up Foot Soldiers as two of the Ninja Turtles, before a group of teenage boys showed up to take a turn.

Next, they picked up a pair of light-gun controllers and blasted through hordes of the undead. The third time Silas would have fed more tokens into the machine, Alice declined to continue, as she saw that her favorite rhythm game was available.

After she drummed three songs on the taiko, they moved on to a racing game that Silas won, whereas she came in second.

“As fun as that was,” he drawled afterward, his half-full bucket of tokens swinging as he walked beside her, “I prefer it when you finish first.”

She sent him a wry smile in response, snickering at his innuendo.

“Mm. Why don’t we do that next?” he proposed, gesturing with his chin at a photo booth a few steps ahead, past the arcade’s claw machines.

Her stomach instantly clenched with worry. Letting him buy her a glass pumpkin that would remind her of him every time she looked at it was bad enough. But taking a series of photos with him that would keep his face fresh in her mind…?

“Um,” she hedged, her gaze landing on the claw machine next to the photo booth. The stuffies piled inside were cutesy, grapefruit-sized krakens in all different colors. The machine itself looked relatively modern and well maintained.

“We can if you catch one of those for me,” she said, stopping to point into the claw machine.