Hellfire | Isle of the Lost

SIX: A Hell Raiser

When the clock struck midnight, Mal's guests arrived in full force. There were no gourd-like carriages or rodent-like servants to be seen, not anywhere. Nothing had been transformed into anything, especially not what anyone would consider a cool ride.

There were only feet, in varying degrees of shoddy footwear. Perhaps because their feet were the largest, the Gastons arrived first, as usual. They never risked a late entrance, so as not to miss a buffet table full of food they might swallow whole before anyone else got a taste.

During the awkward silence that followed the Gastons head-butting their hellos and competitively slamming pitchers of smuggled root beer, a whole ship's worth of Harriet Hook's pirate crew came marauding through the door.

The Gastons and the pirate posse busied themselves with chasing the next group of guests through the house. This happened to be an entire cackling slew of evil step-granddaughters, festooned with raggedy ribbons and droopy curls, elbowing their way around the corners at top speed. "Don't chase us!" they begged, just waiting to be chased. "You're horrible!" they screamed, horribly. "Sto-o-o-o-o-o-p," they said, refusing to stop.

Their cousin, Anthony Tremaine followed them into the room, rolling his eyes.

Dark-haired Ginny Gothel arrived with a bushel of wormy apples, and a game of bob-for-the-wormiest-apple broke out in the tub. Everybody wanted a turn on the chandelier swing, and the rest of the guests were engaged in a serious dance-off . All in all, it was shaping up to be a wicked good time.

As Carlos stood against the faded wallpaper nursing his spicy punch, he jumped up when he heard a knock on the door. He followed the sound, finding out that it was coming from the back of the house instead of the front door. The de Vil boy listened carefully, hearing a secret knock that only one other person knew.

"Helena!" Carlos said as he opened the door, shocked to see her standing there. "W-What are you doing here?"

"Um, you're throwing a party, remember? Heard it's supposed to be a real Hell Raiser," She answered plainly.

"Right," Carlos responded, feeling himself burn with embarrassment for forgetting the fact that there was a wild party going on inside his house. "But you don't like parties."

"I figured that this one was worth coming to," Helena replied with a shrug of her shoulders, nervously shifting on her feet.

It was then that Carlos realized that Helena was awkwardly standing outside the house. "Come in," He said, motioning his hand to welcome her inside.

Helena walked inside while Carlos closed the door behind her, the two then making their way to the main ballroom, where most of the party was. The daughter of Hades surveyed the room, impressed with how the son of Cruella de Vil was able to turn Hell Hall around. Every piece of broken-down old furniture was covered in a dusty white linen cloth. Every few feet of plaster wallboard was punctured by a crumbling hole that revealed the plywood and plaster underneath. He dug out his mother's antique brass candelabras and rigged them around the room. With the lights off, the candles glimmered and flickered as if they were floating in midair.

There was even a chandelier swing - a staple at any Isle party. It was created by climbing up a makeshift ladder to tie rope swing to the light fixture. And when it was being tested out, a cloud of dust had settled over the whole room. It was an unexpectedly nice touch since it looked as if fresh snowfall had sprinkled over the hall.

Carlos even called his cousin, Diego de Vil, who was the lead singer in a local band called the Bad Apples. The band was ecstatic to play at Mal's party and was fully set up by the window within a few minutes later. Their music was loud and fast, and Diego, a tall, skinny guy who sported a black-and-white Mohawk, sang out of tune. It was marvelous. The perfect soundtrack for the evening.