Halloween Stories (A short story collection)

Dark Side of Love

Julian arrived at my school exactly one week ago. The new kid in late October. Some story about having to take care of a sick grandma for a few months. I was already in love with him, probably because he wouldn't catch anyone's eye. He was a challenge, and I loved challenges.

So, I invited him to my annual Halloween party, and he said yes. Everyone knows I think trick or treating is completely lame and wouldn't be caught dead begging for stale candy at someone's door. The Halloween party was the event of the year.

Now, here we were on the big night, in close range for the first time as my best friend, Sam, drew two names out of the old cauldron.

"Julian and Tilda," she announced, glancing at me with a mischievous smile as she adjusted her devil's cape.

His green eyes met mine. Finally. A look that was half shy, half inviting.

"And now for the dare," Sam said. "You, Warlock Julian, have to visit the haunted house at the end of the street with Witch Tilda."

Our costumes were actually well-assorted for this kind of partnership, I thought to myself proudly.

"We don't mean knock on the door, step inside, then bolt out the door," Sam continued. "You have to spend a minimum of one hour inside."

I pretended to shiver, but Sam rolled her eyes. She knew me well enough to know I didn't believe in that kind of baloney. The place down the street was an old abandoned castle with a bunch of broken windows. Nothing more.

"Even squatters won't go in," one of our friends shrieked. Now it was my turn to roll my eyes as I said, "then the squatters are wimps."

Before I could figure out how Julian felt about the whole thing, this group of fifteen from Salem Senior High School pushed us out the door to my house along with my friend Greg who would wait outside the castle to make sure we played by the rules. Like he would be aware of anything. His nose was already buried in his phone. I was glad Greg wasn't exactly on top of his game though. That gave us some privacy. Julian's fingers were laced through mine, and I was liking this sudden closeness.

"You scared?" I asked him when we stopped in front of the crumbling, dark ruin. "They say it belonged to some grand old family that fell into disgrace after a bunch of evil acts. And they're the ones who haunt the place."

"I'd rather not judge on first appearances." His lopsided grin made my heart flip flop.

"OK, let's do this thing." I was ready to climb through a window, but Julian had already pushed open the massive front door.

"I thought it was locked," Greg called out, but we both ignored him.

Darkness and creepy silence filled what was once a grand foyer, but strangely, it didn't feel empty or abandoned. It felt as if we weren't alone as a matter of fact. And that's when the scent of a brew reached my nose and a wry laugh rang through my ears.

"Julian, do you hear that, do you—"

"Follow me," he interrupted, voice urgent. And together, we ran up the grand staircase, our footsteps echoing in the vast emptiness. But the scent and sounds followed me. I wasn't scared in the way you would imagine, but in another way that I couldn't yet explain.

In the darkness, Julian became a shadow, and I rushed to keep up, even if that meant trampling my skirt and huffing and puffing. There was an easier way, but I had to play by the rules. The sounds became deafening and the scents enough to knock me out.

And then a sliver of moonlight illuminated a doorway. Julian had already slipped inside that room at the back of the house, and I barreled along, bursting inside. And then I jumped back.

Julian was leaning against the desk. His eyes, suddenly amber, sparkled in the light.

"I know who you are," he said. "And for a century, I've been trying to find the perfect introduction."

I drew in a sharp breath. He was about to bust my cover. But was it really busting a cover if no one else was there to witness it? At least no one from school.

"So tell me." I looked him straight in the eye and noticed the old shyness was gone. No trace of it at all. He was powerful. Like us, but not one of us.

"Funny to dress up as a witch for Halloween when you really are one," he said.

No time for a spell to get me out of this situation. And I had the feeling that tactic wouldn't work as easily as it did in the outside world. I pushed down the sudden sense of excitement and fear that swirled through my heart.

"What do you want with me?" I asked. We weren't alone, and if I stepped back, I knew those who surrounded us would stop me from leaving. And I kind of wanted to stay. Something in Julian's eyes, in the smoothness of his voice, entranced me even though the crest on the mantle above him terrified me. The family of witches that had nearly driven my family into extinction here in Salem. Those evil deeds, the spells that destroyed all the goodness we brought.

Of course they haunted this place. But as a witch, that sort of thing didn't exactly scare me. Now, though, facing one of them—because Julian was one of them—that unknown emotion of fear battled it out with those earlier feelings of lust.

"This is where I died," Julian said. "Killed by your great-grandmother right here in this house. But she offered me a second chance. Her spell was this: If my spirit could one day lure you, the most powerful of the Keenan Witches, into this house, you would join forces with me and my family—the Raleigh Witches and Warlocks—and we would return to greatness."

I could have asked "what happens if I leave?" but I couldn't. Didn't want to. My great-grandmother's spell had worked. I reached out and took Julian's hand, melted happily into his arms, and turned to the dark side.