Sneak Peek!
Nightmare in Halloween Hollow
Book Description:
Chapter 1
Two hours from now…
The night air is crisp and charged with the eerie howls emanating from the Halloween Hollow Festival.
The grounds here at Willoughby Hall—aptly renamed for the season, Halloween Hollow—are alive with the sounds of distant laughter, the shrieks of teenagers, and the excited chatter of children.
Ghostly decorations sway in the breeze, offering a fright and a delight to all who dare come this way as I stand in the makeshift graveyard that I helped construct, reading the epitaphs on the headstones. But this place looks anything but fake. It looks and feels all too real.
It’s as if I can sense the dead, ready to rise from their graves, ready to warn me of the looming danger this time of year seems to promise.
“Here Lies Trouble,” I mutter, chuckling at the creativity of the staff in charge of scribbling on these tombstones.
My eyes flit to another, Beware All Ye Who Enter. Fitting, considering the dangers lurking in this town. As of late, Brambleberry Bay has become a cesspool of lies hidden behind the friendly facades of polite smiles.
A shiver rides through me and it has nothing to do with the icy breeze. The sense of foreboding in this place is palpable.
I cast a glance out at the expansive acres before me. The grounds at Willoughby Hall were practically made for the Halloween season with their brooding hillsides, their depressing flatlands, and the mysterious mansion that looks haunted from the get-go.
The staff at the hall have really done the place up with pumpkins that glow with sinister grins and the distant hum of spooky music to set the mood. Leaves rustle in the breeze, adding to the eerie feel of the place.
Teenagers run by in costumes that are scary enough to frighten the socks off just about anyone, laughing and daring each other to venture deeper into the haunted maze, while younger children clutch their parents’ hands, wide-eyed at the spooky spectacle. It’s safe to say this month has taken a frightful turn.
And so has my life as of late.
The actions I’ve taken and the leverage I’ve gained over the past few weeks run through my mind.
Sure, I’m no saint, but the sins of others far outweigh my own. The people of this town, especially a select few, all have dark and twisted secrets hidden beneath their somewhat normal exteriors. And it’s high time I use their indiscretions to my advantage.
They think they can threaten me into submission?
They wish.
I’ve survived worse and come out stronger.
Now, it’s their turn to squirm.
A chill prickles the back of my neck as I hear footsteps approaching, crunching behind me on the gravel path.
I turn, squinting into the darkness to see a shadowy figure emerging from the fog. The light from the jack-o’-lanterns casts an ominous glow on their face, making it hard to distinguish their features. But the closer they get, the clearer I can see them. And my adrenaline surges once I spot that dark look in their eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to sound low and steady even though my heart begins to race. “What are you looking at me like that for?”
The figure steps closer. A cold smile spreads across their face, and the glint of a blade catches the light.
My breath hitches.
“You realize this is the end for you, don’t you?” I say, trying my best to sound defiant—to sound in control.
My mind races with thoughts of those dark secrets I’ve uncovered as of late.
They can’t silence me. Not like this.
They raise a silver knife, and in that moment I realize that it’s my end that has come.
Pain erupts in my chest as the blade plunges in, and a strangled cry escapes my lips. I stagger, clutching at the wound.
“You think this will save you?” I gasp, struggling to stay on my feet. “You think your secrets will die with me?”
The killer steps back, watching me with cold detachment. My vision blurs, but my resolve hardens. Even in this moment, I know their sins won’t remain hidden forever. Not if I can help it.
As I fall to my knees, the world around me fades into a haze. The sounds of the festival become distant echoes, and the fake gravestones around me blur into shadows. The irony isn’t lost on me—dying in the graveyard I helped build.
But my knowledge, my secrets, won’t die with me. I’ll haunt them, even from the other side. They won’t escape the truth. No. My death won’t be in vain.
Darkness engulfs me, but still a fierce determination burns within.
They think they’re safe, but they’re wrong.
Their sins won’t be buried with me.
Even in death, I’ll make sure they pay.
Chapter 2
Present
Hattie
“Ready! Set! Get your caskets up and go!” The sound of an air horn goes off and soon we’re off to the races—the casket races, that is.
It’s late October, the night is dark, the air is cold, and the mood is spooky.
Need I say more?
Oh right, the casket I’m currently in is rather comfy, all things considered. There’s a white satin lining and a sort of flimsy foam pillow, but for all intents and purposes, I think I could take a really nice nap in here if I wanted—despite the fact I’m strapped in with five-way restraints like a toddler in the back of a minivan.
Not that I could nap with the icy wind blasting my face at what feels like a million miles an hour as we race across a barren field lit up with orange and purple twinkle lights strung overhead.
My sister, Winnie, thought up a thousand different activities for the festivities happening here on the grounds of Willoughby Hall for what’s been dubbed as the Halloween Hollow Festival. And well, casket races are just one of her myriad of wicked epiphanies.
There are about twenty of us lying semi-upright while the casket we’re in—no lid included—is chained to a dolly. My casket in particular is currently being pushed by two of my rather elderly besties, Clarabelle and Peggy.
They really are the original besties, and they love each other so very much.
Clarabelle Harper is a gray-headed hippie and Peggy Ebersol is a redheaded Georgia peach who isn’t shy about her addiction to pricey handbags and cheap men.
Both women are somewhere in their eighties and both have been a fount of entertainment ever since we met upon the arrival of my employment at the Brambleberry Bay Country Club.
“Keep it straight, you moron!” Clarabelle bellows at her so-called bestie.
I never said they weren’t human. Sure, they have their differences—loudly, and at least twice a day.
“I am keepin’ it straight, you cotton-headed ninny!” Peggy’s country-fried accent comes through, especially when she’s frustrated, which is surprisingly quite often. “It’s you who keeps trying to make a right. And don’t you think for a minute I’m not aware that you’re trying to hightail it down to that donut stand!”
I can’t blame her. The name of the stand might be Creepy Crullers, but they’ve got donuts of every variety. And I’m already eyeing the double chocolate Dracula delight.
And after this little stunt, I think I deserve about ten of them.
Make it an even dozen.
We go over a bump and I knock my head into the top of the casket.
On second thought, make it a baker’s dozen.
But before my imagination can run wild with all things deep-fried, a group of zombies—aka teenagers dressed as a ragtag group of brain munchers—come barreling through the field, right into our path. One of them flails their loosey-goosey arms our way and nearly collides with our casket.
“Just great. Now we’ve got the undead joining the race,” I mutter, gripping the sides of my satin-lined box.
“Brains,” one of them moans at the top of his lungs, but I can see the laughter in his eyes.
“It would be really funny if we crashed into you and found out the hard way that you have no brains,” Clarabelle shouts as the dolly swerves wildly and by proxy the casket with me inside it.
A harried scream evicts from my lungs, and soon I can hear the terrified howls of my competitors as well as caskets crisscross in one another’s paths as our handlers do their best to guide us to the finish line.
I’m going to kill Winnie by way of my casket.
Then I’m going to track down that crew of brainless zombies and mow them down with my casket, too. Not that I’m a homicidal maniac per se, but on a night like tonight the threat seems fitting. And if for some reason I’m the one that ends up dead because of these morbid shenanigans, I’m not taking a good old-fashioned haunting off the table either.
Another group of zombies runs across the field and I all but close my eyes as we swerve once again to avoid sending anyone to a real cemetery.
“Out of the way, you brain-dead hooligans,” Clarabelle yells, shaking her fist at the entire lot of them.
Peggy cackles as she pushes me along. “I bet they’re on their way to Creepy Crullers, too!”
We careen around a corner, narrowly avoiding another casket that’s tipped over. The occupants who are dressed as skeletons just so happen to be laughing too hard to right themselves.
“We gotta hurry,” Peggy shouts with determination in her voice. “Those grannies from the old fogies home are about to beat us!”
“Not if I can help it,” Clarabelle shouts back, giving the casket a surprising burst of speed.
Just as I think we might actually make it, another zombie lunges at us, causing a chain reaction of stumbling and screaming.
Clarabelle trips over a shoe that someone lost, and Peggy veers to avoid her, sending our casket into a tailspin. The world becomes a blur of scary sights and screaming, and I can’t help but join in on the terrifying chorus.
We finally come to a stop just south of the finish line and by some miracle manage to land in fourth place—with me in one piece.
Clarabelle and Peggy hoot and holler as they soak in the quasi-victory that wouldn’t be possible without them.
“Creepy Crullers, here we come,” I cheer as I unstrap myself with shaky hands.
“Dibs on the werewolf selling the treats,” Peggy calls out, already making a beeline for the stand.
“Not if I get there first,” Clarabelle shouts, taking off after her. “Hands off my hairy man!
You did great, Hattie, Rookie barks as he heads my way.
Rookie is the cutest little golden retriever puppy who, well, isn’t so little anymore. He happens to belong to my boyfriend, Detective Killion Maddox, but he feels like he belongs to me because I’m lucky enough to keep him most of the time. Either way, we’re family now.
My name is Hattie Holiday. I have long dark hair, the color of a raven’s wing, eyes the color of a moonlit midnight sea, and the haunting ability to read people’s minds. I can read the minds of animals, too, and you bet dollars to Creepy Cruller donuts that they have much better things to say.
You’re a winner in my book! Rookie barks and turns just enough for me to see he still has his teddy bear strapped to his back. The teddy bear’s name is Mr. Jolly Beary and he just so happens to belong to both Rookie and Cricket. As of late, they never leave the house without him. Rookie gives another soft woof. Now let’s go get those donuts!
All you care about is filling that donut hole of yours called a snout, Cricket mewls as she leaps into my arms in a single bound.
Cricket is a beige tabby that has lived with me for years, and she feels more like a sister than a friend—a fur friend, that is.
Hattie, are you okay? Her whiskers twitch as she does her best to inspect me. Did you hurt yourself? Will you be able to open a can of Fancy Beast cat food for me once we get back to our tiny cabin?
A laugh bubbles from me. “I’m fine and yes, I promise to fill both of your bellies, hopefully starting with donuts.”
Ha! Rookie gives a gleeful bark. I guess that means she likes me best.
Before I can answer, my sister, Winnie, walks up dressed as the bride of the crypt keeper—although she looks gorgeous in every sense of the word as that black beaded dress clings to her figure. And she should be dressed for haunted success, considering she’s the grand dame of this place.
Her boyfriend, Fitz, just so happens to own the haunted mansion that’s essentially the centerpiece of this giant Halloween bash, Willoughby Hall, or Halloween Hollow as they’ve renamed it for the week leading up to the big event.
And not only have Winnie and Fitz managed to turn this into a spooky success for the spookiest season of all, but they’ve just opened a part of the one hundred-and-eleven-room mansion up as a B&B.
A part of me does wonder if some of the guests are regretting their choices at the moment. All thirty-three acres, both inside and out, have been transformed into a Halloween wonderland as a gift to the townspeople.
“You nearly died out there.” She laughs at the thought of my would-be demise.
“It’s nice to know you’d grieve me,” I tease. “The place looks great. Who knew you were a natural at all things scary? Does Fitz know you still sleep with a nightlight? And now we know why. Apparently, your mind is a terrifying place to be,” I say, nodding out at the frightening festivities as if to prove my point.
Winnie belts out a laugh. “Thanks, my terrifying mind and I tried our best. By the way, Mom is outraged with half the horrors we’ve got cooking. But I swear I tried to keep things as wholesome as possible. I’m not a fan of gore and neither is Fitz. To hear Mom say it, you’d think I was channeling demons.”
“Mom won’t do yoga because she thinks she’s channeling demons,” I counter just as my mother heads this way with a dark-haired woman who just so happens to have birthed the man I love. “Speaking of demons.”
“Hattie.” Winnie elbows me, doing her best to stifle a laugh.
A groan works its way up my throat. “You can’t blame me for the things I say tonight, I was just chained to a casket for the last fifteen minutes. You have no idea what that kind of experience can do to your mind.” And oddly, your libido.
Where is Killion again? I cast a quick glance around and spot him near the hot apple cider stand, but it’s too late to escape. The dark duo is upon us.
How and why my sweet mother has glommed onto Nora Maddox’s stark black wings escapes me to this day. Their friendship is rather new. Maybe there’s hope of it petering out before Nora converts my mother to the dark side and they both hate me for no discernable reason.
My mother steps up and offers both Winnie and me a collective embrace.
“We come bearing bad news,” Mom says, pulling back with a frown on her face. My mother, Ruthanne “Ruthie” Holiday, is a blonde bombshell at any age. And she isn’t one to frown or have bad news ever.
I shoot a look to the Queen of Darkness among us. It seems Nora is rubbing off on her already.
“Well, what is it?” Winnie all but shrieks. I know for a fact she doesn’t want a single thing to go wrong at this little shindig she’ll be hosting until the end of the month.
Mom glances at Nora before looking our way. “There’s been a death.”
***I hope you enjoyed this preview! Thank you for reading!****