3 AM

“Are you coming with me or not?” Lizzie asked me while she batted her eyes trying to look cuter than normal. I didn’t want to, but it was so hard to tell her no. We’d been dating since spring, but it felt like years. She’s the one, and by one I mean the one I shouldn’t be able to be with. She’s gorgeous, like off the scale beautiful. Super smart too, top of the class and head cheerleader. 

I shook my head, “You really want to spend the night in a cemetery? It’s cold and wet.”

She grabbed my hands, and pulled me in closer, and looked me deep in the eyes. “I guess you’ll have to come and keep me warm.”

I started racking my brain trying to come up with a good excuse to get out of it, but nothing was coming to mind. “Halloween is tomorrow anyway,” was the best I could come up with.

She nodded, “That’s why we go tonight and welcome it in…but if you’re too scared I could find a friend to go with me instead.”

That felt like a shot to the groin. “Alright, we’ll go. But when we both get sick just remember I was the voice of reason.”

She smiled and jumped up hugging me around the neck. “You’re so great. Come on, I already have my car packed.”

I sat down in her car. I’d never seen her so happy. “Why is it so important to you?”

She shrugged, “It’s a tradition. I’ve been bringing in Halloween at the cemetery for years now. You’re an athlete.  You know how important traditions are.”

The cemetery was on the edge of town. It was larger than I’d imagined. We drove around a winding path until she parked near a large tree. It was just after eleven. In my eyes bringing in Halloween meant that at one in the morning we could leave. I was hoping she had the same idea.

I met her at the trunk and grabbed a large duffle bag and blanket. She grabbed a flashlight. I looked from her to the empty trunk and back to her, “I’m just your pack mule.”

She waved the flashlight, “Someone has to carry this. It’s the only one I got.”

She spun and led the way. It didn’t cross my mind that she wanted to sit on a grave. I figured we could sit in the car or at least in the vicinity of the car on the path. But she was walking with a purpose knowing exactly which headstone she was going for.

She stopped and took the blanket from my arm and spread it out. I sat the bag down beside it. I pulled out my phone and used the light to read the headstone. ‘Tim Gates.’ It didn’t take more than a second for that name to click in my mind. Our little county only had one celebrity.

“That’s not the Tim Gates right,” I asked.

She sat down and leaned back against the tombstone, “The one and only.”

“You want to sit on the grave of a serial killer,” I said trying not to sound panicked. “He killed nearly thirty people.”

She shook her head, “More than thirty.”

I was starting to freak out, “How did you know he was buried here?”

She looked up at me, “Are you scared?”

I tried to keep my cool, but I was starting to sweat. “I’m not scared, just concerned. Do you believe in ghosts or spirits?”

She nodded, “Absolutely.”

Not the answer I was expecting, “And you’re not the least bit concerned that a serial killer could have some supernatural resurrection and kill you? I’ve seen a lot of horror movies and this is how they begin.”

She patted the blanket next her beckoning me down. “He won’t hurt me.”

I looked around to make sure I wasn’t being pranked or worse, recorded. “And what makes you so sure,” I asked sitting down.

“He promised he would never hurt me,” she said laying her head on my shoulder.

I chuckled, “When did he promise that?”

“Every night when he tucked me in,” she replied.

A cold chill ran down my body. “Why would he tuck you in?”

She pulled out a bag of chips and opened them, “Isn’t that what dad’s do for their children.”

It wasn’t adding up, “He was a Gates, you’re Tomes.”

She nodded, “I am now.”

I ran my free hand through my hair trying to make sense of it. “So you changed your name?”

“Not willingly,” she said through crunches. “The court thought it would make it easier on me growing up. They changed it to my foster parents. Good thing for me I didn’t have to switch foster homes or there would be no telling what my name would be now.”

I started to calm down. She just wanted to feel closer to her father, which made sense. Halloween was probably one of the happy times for her growing up. He probably dressed up too and took her to houses for candy. There was nothing creepy about how he used a straight razor to carve people like turkeys.

She looked up at me, “Your heart is racing. Are you worried his hand is going to bust through the ground and grab you?”

“I am now,” I said looking between my legs.

She laughed, but then got quite. The silence was making me uneasy. There weren’t any noises, just a slow moving cool front. I had to talk to keep down the nervous tension I could feel building.

“So after your dad died did you come here a lot,” I asked with a shaky voice.

“He didn’t die,” she said sternly. “He was killed by the government. There’s a difference. But no, my foster parents only brought me the once. I had to find my own way to visit my father.”

“Like what a Ouija board,” I asked with a slight laugh. But she didn’t answer, just sat in silence. “You did…did it work?”

She tilted her head back again, “Would you believe me if I said it did?”

I thought about it for a second, “I don’t know.”

She sighed, “Don’t you think it’s funny that the ones that don’t believe those boards work are the same people scared to have them in their houses.”

I didn’t know what to add and didn’t want to sound less than supportive. I pulled her in closer and held her tight. “Are we spending the night here, it’s getting late…or early.”

“No,” she whispered. “It’s almost time.”

I nodded gratefully, “What time are we waiting for?”

“Three o’clock,” she said stretching her legs out.

I leaned my head back with my eyes closed and nearly drifted off when I jerked awake. “What’s special about three?”

She sat up and turned to see me in the glow of the flashlight. “Do you really want to know?”

I nodded so she continued, “It’s the witching hour. People talk about how crazy things always happen in the three o’clock hour. That’s because the veil between the living world and the next is at its thinnest during that hour. And on Halloween during the witching hour it’s nearly nonexistent. In fact, if someone knew what they were doing the curtain can be pulled back just enough for interaction.”

I was no longer drowsy. I sat up straight and checked her expression. I’d never seen her look so serious before. “You think that you’ll be able to see your dad tonight, that’s why we’re here?”

Her gaze didn’t move, “This isn’t my first Halloween here.”

My mind was spinning. This was either the most elaborate prank ever or she needed to be on some kind of meds. I looked at my phone to check the time. About three more minutes and I’d find out for sure.

“Wouldn’t you do anything to see your father if he’d been taken away from you,” she asked sounding emotional.

I was trying not to pass judgment even with her dad having been a serial killer. “Maybe,” I answered. 

She looked up at the moon that was starting to poke through the clouds. “He gets stronger every time. I can see the tether shrinking each year. This might be the year he can stay.”

This night was not shaping up for what I had hoped for. There was a very good chance she would be bawling her eyes our within the hour. Any sense of intimacy would definitely go out the window by that point. I just needed to suck it up for a little longer and help her through her grieving period. Everyone has a time of the year that gives them trouble. Now that I knew hers I could be prepared in the future.

“Do you feel the change,” she asked.

I shook my head, “I didn’t feel anything.”

“Look,” she said pointing at the moon. 

The normal white glow started to shimmer. It looked like the moon was glossy and more fluid. I was having trouble not staring at it. I felt her grab me and say “It’s time.” I thought she was taking my hand so we could leave but then she pinned it against the head stone. I turned back in time to see her run a knife across my palm. I jerked my hand back, but the blood ran everywhere.

I got up to my feet with my hand clenched tight, “What are you doing?”

“I needed your blood on his stone,” she said calmly licking the blade.

I took a step back from her, “And why would you need that?”

She smiled, “It marks the willing sacrifice.”

I took another step, “I’m not a willing sacrifice. You’re crazy.”

She shook her head, “Not crazy, also not my first time. There’s always a loophole to every rule. It took me a while to find it though. See, you willingly put your hand on the stone and you willingly allowed your blood to be spilled. At least you didn’t struggle to prevent it. See…loophole. Turns out if enough people sacrifice themselves for a specific soul they can return. It’s a very drawn out process. One has to be completely committed to the cause. You make lucky number three. You should feel special.”

I was still waiting for our friends to jump out with cameras and holler how they got me or something but nothing happened. She just looked at me with those crazy eyes. I once thought they were the most beautiful eyes in the world, but now they looked hollow and empty.

I tried to back away, but my legs didn’t work. My body felt numb and cold. My eyes were heavy and just wanted to sleep. She kept smiling. How could’ve I been so wrong about her.

“You’re in shock,” she said stepping forward. “Don’t fight it. Just let it take you away. Hi daddy.”

I looked down and saw a large hand holding a knife that was stuck under my right rib. I tried to pull it out, but my arms felt like they were filled with sand. I was starting to feel dizzy. My legs were beginning to shake.

Lizzie looked back at me, “Honestly, if I didn’t need one more then we might’ve worked out. But blood comes first.”

I felt his hot breath on my ear when he spoke, “Trick or Treat.”