Page 102 of Shadowed With Fear

“I think Grayson might have missed the Shaggy memo…”

He comes up to us, holding out his hand for me, but he doesn’t speak.

I smirk. “You’re method acting, huh? What happened to matching though?”

He shrugs, tilting his head down at me, then nodding to the concession stand.

I roll my eyes. “Okay, fine, geez.” He pulls me up, tugging me along. His grip on my hand is a little harsh, almost uncomfortable.

“Grays, slow down. Can you lighten up on my hand?”

I try to wiggle out of his grip, but he just tightens it more, increasing his pace.

“Did something happen? I haven’t checked my phone— “

I pat my hips remembering the dress doesn’t have pockets. I groan. “I left my phone. Can you tell me if B’s okay?”

We get to the concession stand in silence, but he doesn’t stop at the line. He keeps dragging me around the building toward the parking lot.

The further away we are from Liz, the more nervous I become. What if something bad happened and he can’t tell me out here because it’s a mission?

My feet echo across the pavement, much louder than the soft patters of his.

And my heart stops. I look at his feet, each step making a minute thud across the leaf strewn concrete, then to his hand ring-free. I follow the line of his arm all the way up to the back of the Michael Myers mask. The wind has stopped blowing, but the cold remains, like icy chains wrapping around my throat, pulling me beneath a tumultuous sea.

“Grays?” He doesn’t answer.

“You’re going to hurt me aren’t you,” I whisper, stuttering on my words.

The response is a dark, chilling laugh that makes me shiver. He stops in front of a dark colored vehicle. I hear one of the doors pop open quietly. I stare into the holes of the mask’s eyes, seeing nothing but darkness.

“Yeah, darling. Yeah, I am.”

And everything goes black.

* * *

Grayson

*Ten Minutes Later*

The fucking things I do for this girl. I let my stubble grow a little this week, and I had to scout all over East End to try find a pair of brown, corduroy pants. They “had” to be corduroy apparently, or else I’d just be a douchebag in khakis.

“Are you fucks ready, yet?” I ask looking at the others untangling tubes and wires for their Ghostbusters outfits. They look…honestly really fucking hilarious. It’s a great costume.

“Yeah, yeah.” Alex yells, pulling hard on a wire attached to Henry’s pack, sending him toppling backward.

A phone rings, and I follow the sound to Brahm’s phone in the kitchen.

“Hello?”

“Braham?” I look at the caller ID and see Liz’s name.

“Liz? No, it’s Grayson.”

“Where are you guys?! I can’t leave our stuff here, but you should be back by now. Please tell me you aren’t fucking in the bathroom.” I can hear her moving around on the line, fabric rustling against the speaker.

“Huh? What are you talking about?”