Man.”
She began to walk around the crypt. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t really want to be here in the graveyard after the sun goes down. And I don’t really feel like going back through the basement.”
She walked around the mausoleum and down the faintly worn path she imagined her aunt once walked nearly every day. In a moment, the other three followed.
Full night had come down outside, and Brian built a fire again, though this time he was careful not to disturb the stone that covered the Ouija.
“Who wants dessert?” Kirstin asked. “I’ve got vanilla ice cream and pie,” she offered, standing up and flexing her hips.
“Hey, that’s
“You get cherry pie, silly.” Kirstin laughed, licking the edge of his lips with her tongue. “This is apple.”
Jenn rolled her eyes and rose to help Kirstin. Minutes later they all were enjoying pie, coffee and ice cream in front of the fire. It was a very different vibe than it had been twenty-four hours before. But still Jenn couldn’t shake the images of that coffin and those pumpkins. The fire hadn’t yet burned out when she leaned on Nick’s shoulder and whispered, “I need to go to bed.”
“Do you want company?” he asked. She nodded, and a moment later the two of them excused themselves. Kirstin and Brian hardly noticed; they were busy kissing.
When they entered her room, Jenn pushed the bedroom door shut behind them. Nick was waiting, and when she turned, he took her into his arms.
“I don’t want to push you into anything,” he whispered.
His breath was warm in her ear, and Jenn felt better than she had most of the day. “Just be with me,” she answered.
His arms drew her tight. His mouth moved to meet hers and their tongues touched, first in furtive exploration and then with more energy. He began to move her step by step backward toward the bed, but just before they both fell onto the mattress, she pushed him back a step, and took a deep breath.
“Wait,” she said, and fished into her jeans pocket. At last she came out with a key and walked to the door to the basement. “I’d really like to be sure this is locked tonight,” she explained. Then she dropped the key on the dresser and with both hands stripped off her T-shirt.
She let the garment fall to the floor and turned to hug him. His hands slipped up the smooth skin of her back, and he kissed her again. She felt strangely calm as his hands fumbled with the clasp of her bra. Usually when she was with a guy she grew icy cold with fear, worried that she wouldn’t be what he wanted, worried that he would be disappointed when he saw her for what she really was—when he realized her breasts weren’t as full as he liked, when he realized that her hips were too wide. With Nick, she didn’t feel that. She felt easy in a way she’d never been before.
His knuckles slid inside the waistband of her jeans and then back out to pull the lip of her belt through its metal clasp. Jenn only smiled and whispered, “No locks here.”
He finished unbuttoning her jeans and pushed them down to the floor. Then he slipped his palms into the back of her panties, cupped her body tight against his.
“No,” he breathed between kisses. “The door is definitely open.”
January 1, 1986
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Morning light streamed across Nick’s bare shoulder, and Jenn smiled as she gazed at his skin.
She pulled the sheets close and shifted her body just slightly, pressed herself against his hip. He looked to be deep asleep, his mouth slack against her pillow, and she didn’t want to wake him. But the memories of his touch, his gentle pressure against her in the darkness just a few hours before made her crave to feel his skin against hers again.
As she slipped an arm across his shoulders, he stirred and one eye trembled open. It closed again, briefly, before opening wider. For a second he looked disoriented and surprised.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“Hey back.”
“What’s for breakfast?”
“Cherry pie?” she offered, snorting as she said it.
Something soft and yet hard pressed against her inner thigh, and she levered herself closer, pressing it tighter to her most secret flesh and—
The morning was broken by a ghastly scream.
“That was Kirstin,” Jenn gasped, rolling away.
She tossed off the covers and bolted from bed, grabbing her robe from the back of the bedroom door on the way. Behind her, Nick leaped to his feet and pulled on his jeans, neglecting to even look for his underwear. The scream came again, but this time it sounded more like a cry of anguish than one of fear or pain.
Jenn ran down the hall to Kirstin’s room and rapped once at the door with her fist, not waiting for an answer before turning the knob. She pushed the door open and stepped inside to see Kirstin in bed, holding a blood- spattered sheet over her naked chest. Tears streamed down her face and her mouth hung open, and she sucked in air with great hyperventilating gasps. Lying next to her was the body of her boyfriend.
The body. Not the head. Jenn saw the ragged wound of Brian’s neck and the gore spattering the hair of his broad chest, but his head and face were gone. The sheets were stained a deep and still-wet red.
Jenn stepped around the bed to hug her roommate from behind. Both girls stared helpless at the corpse.
“Sweet fuckin’ Jesus,” Nick said as he entered the room. “Brian,” he whispered, and then looked hard at the sobbing Kirstin. “What the fuck happened?”
Kirstin shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “We fell asleep together. . . . I know he got up at some point to go to the bathroom. When I woke up . . .”
Jenn felt something cold and slimy against her toes. Looking down, she saw she’d stepped on the fleshy part of a carved triangle. A small jumble of other pumpkin pieces were piled just beyond at the foot of the bed. Their orange skins were again smeared darker. Blood.
“Get out of the bed,” Jenn whispered.
“But I’m not wearing—”
“I don’t think that really matters right now.”
She helped Kirstin up and took her to the bathroom. Nick stood silent by the bed, pulling back the sheet to view the full remains of his friend. He didn’t know whether to hate Kirstin and Jenn or be afraid for them; for the
