Halloween Party (Fear Street Book 8)

The tombstone loomed gray in the moonlight, its edges eroded into irregular shapes. Thick moss covered the words etched into its surface, except for a line at the bottom.

DIED OCTOBER 31, 1884

Terry Ryan tried to step quickly past the ancient monument, but his girlfriend, Niki Meyer, pulled on his hand to stop him. “Look, Terry,” she said. “The person in this grave died on this same day over a hundred years ago.”

Niki stepped closer, her flashlight casting a dim yellow arc of light on the gravestone. Terry pulled his jacket tighter. The wind howled, sounding like the wail of a creature long dead. Somewhere something scratched and rattled against stone.

I don’t believe I’m standing in the middle of the Fear Street Cemetery at night, Terry thought. He took Niki’s hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze. She turned to him, her beautiful dark eyes bright with excitement. In her red gown and black cape she looked like a medieval princess.

“I wonder who all these people were,” she said, gesturing at the crumbling gravestones.

“Early settlers of Shadyside, probably,” said Terry. “Nobody’s been buried here for years.”

“It’s spooky here,” Niki said. “But kind of beautiful too. How do you suppose all those stories got started, about the living dead coming out of their graves?”

“Just stories,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The wind gusted, and Terry saw Niki shiver inside her cape. They began walking again, and Terry picked a path through the weed-choked lanes between the grave markers. With their every step, the ground creaked, a sound like breaking bones. Somewhere above them the wind shrieked, tearing at a branch. Terry stole a glance at Niki. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement.

The howling wind doesn’t bother Niki, Terry thought. Niki had been nearly deaf since an accident in second grade. But she spoke so clearly and read lips so well, most people didn’t even realize she had a handicap.

Niki herself never acted as if she was different from other kids. She never wanted special treatment at all. In fact—just the opposite. Niki was always ready for adventure.

But was she ready for tonight?

They were almost at the end of the shortcut that led to the edge of the graveyard. Beyond the cemetery’s stone wall Terry could see the outline of the old Cameron mansion. The tall trees around it were whipping from side to side. From this distance it looked as if the house were slowly shaking itself.

The wooden gate at the edge of the wall hung open. Without realizing it, Terry began to walk a little faster. Niki tugged on his hand again. “I dropped my mask back there,” she said. “It’ll just take a second to get it.”

Holding the flashlight on her feet, Niki quickly retraced her steps. “Not so fast,” Terry called, then he remembered she couldn’t hear him. She ducked behind the tombstone she’d been examining. “I’ve got it!” she called.

Terry slipped on a moss-covered rock, then quickly pulled himself up and headed to the tombstone. Even if the scary stories weren’t true, he didn’t want to let Niki out of his sight. He had almost reached the tombstone when a sudden high-pitched scream split the air.

“Niki!” he called. His heart thudding, he lunged behind the tombstone. Niki was there, brushing the dirt off her black silk mask. “What’s wrong?” she asked when she saw his face.

“I heard a—” The scream was repeated. “There it is again!” he said. He put his arm around Niki and held her tight.

The sound had come from the direction of the gate. He thought of going back the way they had come and walking around the cemetery. But it would take too long. Besides, he wanted to get out of the graveyard as soon as possible.

With the flashlight in one hand and his other arm around Niki, Terry walked cautiously toward the gate. They had nearly reached it when a tall, dark figure suddenly jumped into the path in front of them.

Niki let out a shriek and pressed tighter against Terry.

Blocking the path was a figure from a nightmare. The thing’s black clothing hung in tatters. Its face—or what was left of it—seemed to be rotting away. And the flesh on its hands was peeling off the bones.

This isn’t happening, Terry thought. That thing can’t be real.

His hands shaking, he pushed Niki behind him and raised the flashlight threateningly. Can a weapon hurt the living dead? he wondered.

But before he could find out, the figure suddenly reached up and ripped its head off, revealing the grinning face of Murphy Carter. It took Terry a moment to realize that the gruesome head was only a mask.

“Gotcha!” Murphy said. “Boy, you two were scared to death! You should have seen your faces.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Terry, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking. “We knew it was you all along.”

“Sure you did,” said Murphy. “And my grandmother’s the mayor of Shadyside.” He grinned at Niki, then gestured with one of the gloves that looked like a rotting hand. “Come on, let’s go,” he said. “We wouldn’t want to be late for this party.”