Nighttime in the Nob Hill home, as the family lays sleeping in their beds. Our couple is spooned together in the dark master bedroom, his arm draped protectively over her. Moonlight pours through the curtained window, spilling across their bodies. The soft chime of the mantel clock downstairs carries up the stairs announcing the hour. Midnight, the witching hour. The time when the spirits come from their places of rest and when shadows take a life of their own. The house settles in the night, cool air fills the room, causing her to shiver in her sleep. A muscle in her cheek twitches and he lips sink into a frown.
*****
White sheet ghosts and carved pumpkin Jack-o-lanterns populate the front yards of Nob Hill. Bits of fake spiderweb wave on the breeze, stretched over windows and porches. A few yards also sport tombstones, marking non-existent graves. It is strange, still, for Emily to look out onto the decorations and not see piles of golden and red leaves piled amongst them. Here, in such a more temperate climate, the grass is still green and her climbing roses still bloom. Another day of fighting the shadows, she thumbs the garage door opener on the sunvisor and lets the Lincoln idle as the door opens behind her. Golden sunlight spills across the black trunk of the car and reflects in her rearview mirror. The car is slipped into reverse and it elegantly backs into the driveway. The opener is thumbed again and she wheels the vehicle into the street.
As much as she detests it, Emily finds herself in one of those obnoxious chain discount stores. It takes all her skill not to balk as she fills her shopping basket with bags of candy. To think, that a few years ago, she wouldn't have had a second thought about shopping here. Shows what living with a socialite sociopath will do to your shopping habits. Musing over it momentarily, she decides to add another bag of peanut butter cups to the basket, all for herself. She carries her selections to the checkouts, eyeing the selection of tabloids and women's magazines that populate the racks. As always, the Tattler catches her eye, and she notes with a blink of surprise that Jane Morricone has her name on the cover again. The woman had become a household name after she published her book about Darryl Conrad, the second Red Dragon killer.
The line moves forward and Emily deposits the basket on the counter, reaching into her purse for her wallet and credit cards. The clerk noisily chews a wad of gum and glares at Emily. She ignores it, reaching into her bag for her wallet. He looks thoroughly unenthused with his job, smacking his gum as he swipes the merchandise across the barcode reader. The gum sounds unnaturally loud to Emily, and she blinks for a moment. Something buzzing in her ears. She shakes her head, and withdraws a credit card, laying it on the counter as he finishes the basket and totals out her purchase.
"Twenty eight seventy, lady." he grumbles around the gum wad. A drop of saliva falls from the corner of his mouth as he does so. Her eyes follow its path to the counter, a thin line of revolt forming in her brain. She purses her lips as he takes the card from the counter and shoves it back to her.
"Yer sposed to swipe it yerself." He points a grubby finger at the electronic card reader in front of her. "Duh." he mutters under his breath as Emily swipes the card, returning it to her wallet, and retrieving a pen. The buzzing grows stronger and she feels a little light headed. A receipt is slid in front of her, along with a pen she nudges out of the way. She signs the slip and slides it back across the counter. He looks at it, shoves it into the cash drawer, and hands her a second receipt.
"Have a nice day." The words are robotic, and he doesn't even look at her as Emily grabs her bags. Emily looks at him though, studying his face and remembering it. She doesn't know why, and wonders about it as she walks out the door to her car. People were so rude these days. Rude, and lacking in hygiene as well. She thumbs the trunk release on the keyfob and deposits the bags into the cavernous trunk, slamming it shut afterwards. As she slips into the drivers seat she feels that awkward twist of her stomach again. She presses her fingertips against closed eyelids, as if the pressure would make the tinges go away and the images vanish.
Blood.
Spilling from his lips as he draws his last breath.
Blood on the Harpy blade.
She snapped upright in her seat, shaking her head violently and receiving a glance from the woman getting into the Toyota parked next to her. Emily waited until the Toyota was gone before emerging once again from the Lincoln. Her feet carried her back into the store, and she felt her eyes seeking out the clerk who had helped her. He was away from his register now, talking with another associate. They laughed and he smacked his gum. Pity. Well, she reconsidered, perhaps not, as she headed for their cleaning supplies. She selected a pair of rubber dishwashing gloves and then headed for their hardware department, selecting a heavy plastic dropcloth before returning to the front with her purchases. Her clerk had left his register, and she stepped to the next one, the blonde he had been talking to when she had come back in. Emily swiped the credit card and waited idly while her purchases were totaled. She nodded absently as she let her eyes drift around the store. She took her receipt, nodded at the blonde, and moved towards the exit.
*****
Darkness has begun to settle over the city, the sounds of children mingles with the buzz of evening. A breeze causes the white sheet ghost to flutter as the Jack-o-lanterns are lit, exposing their carven features to the rapidly descending night. Inside their home, Emily clears the table as her husband follows their daughter upstairs to get her into her Halloween costume. Mischa has chosen to be a fairie, and the two reappear in a little but with her in glittery wings and a star-tipped wand clutched in her hand.
"Mommy! Look!" she squeals as she runs to the kitchen, her father following behind and grimacing at the loose sparkles that decorate his black silk shirt. Emily smiles and admires her daughter's costume as the child comes to a stop before her. Scooping her into the air, Emily takes the wand from her, tapping her on the head with it. Mischa giggles and grabs for the wand.
"Are you sure you want to take her out?" she asks Hannibal, who stands in the formal dining room watching as Emily pulls the Maglight from the drawer. She holds it out to him, watching his hand close over it, taking its weight.
"Want daddy to take me!" Mischa interjects her opinion on the matter, earning a smile form her intimidating father.
"We'll be safe, I assure you. And how can I refuse such a child?" Hannibal steps to the kitchen and takes Mischa the Fairie from his wife's arms. He plucks a plastic pumpkin bucket from the counter and sets out to the front door. Emily follows in his wake, watching the star-tipped wand as it taps against his dark sleek head. "You'll be fine, Emily?" he asks before opening the front door, brow lifted and head cocked to the side. The fairie Hannibal holds mimics him, while waving the wand at her mother.
"Yes. Go. Have fun." she kisses each on the cheek, and sees them out onto the porch. She waits there until they are out of sight. She steps back inside and closes the door. "Just fine." she murmurs again, a wicked smile growing across her face, along with a strange glow in her eyes.
*****