Get In, Loser, We're Going Haunting

If Rick noticed a lack of tension between Beth and Daryl as compared to the night before, he was either choosing to ignore it entirely, or he simply didn't care. Beth was willing to bet on the latter, because he seemed to be all business tonight. Even though he was dressed in plain clothes and driving his civilian vehicle, he was still in cop mode, all serious business and focused on coming up with a half-decent plan. And to Beth's surprise, Merle was playing along. For the time being.

She figured he must be starting to feel the worry that was slowly seeping into all of their heads; the realization that they were barely 48 hours away from confronting his murderer face-to-face. She knew his concern for his brother's well-being was enough to drown out his usual dark sense of humor and unwillingness to work cooperatively. It was even overshadowing his disdain for the Sheriff.

As soon as the farm began to fade into the distance behind them, Rick started catching Beth up on what he'd been explaining to Daryl on their way over: how he had a friend who worked for the Atlanta Police Department, and said friend had special access to all kinds of technology that the Sheriff's Department didn't have.

Daryl cleared his throat and asked, "An' how's he gonna get us this shit without raisin' some eyebrows?"

"He's got his ways," Rick assured. "Trust me, he's a clever one. Kind of a lab geek, but he knows what he's doin'. A lot sneakier'an people give him credit for."

That had been Beth's first question, but Daryl beat her to it. So she asked the next question on her mind, "And how d'you know he's gonna agree to it? You already talked to him?"

Rick nodded. "I did. Called 'im today."

Merle grunted from his seat, frowning thoughtfully. "But what's he gonna want in return?"

Beth repeated his question, wanting to know for herself. "And what does he want in return for helpin' us out?"

"That's what I was wonderin'," Daryl agreed.

Rick shook his head, smiling. "Nothin' at all. Don't y'all worry about that. He owes me one—I got him the job with Atlanta PD, and set him up with his fiancée. When I asked him if he could help, he was ready ta drop everything an' stick his neck out. Whatever we need, he's got us covered."

"Oh, I see," Merle chuckled. "Grimes has been rackin' up the favors fer years. Reckon he finally found his chance ta shine."

Beth gave him a shrug and a look that said, "are we really gonna turn it down?"

"So what exactly are ya thinkin' we're gonna need?" Daryl asked.

Rick huffed out a breath, picking up speed on the highway towards Atlanta and keeping his eyes on the road. "Hell, I dunno yet. Definitely some recording devices. A tracker of some kind, if we can get our hands on one. Gonna go meet up with 'im tomorrow afternoon an' try to explain the situation best I can, then I reckon we'll go from there based on his suggestions. He'll make sure we're hooked up with everything we need."

Daryl repeated, "Tomorrow afternoon?"

Rick nodded. "Yeah, I was gonna see if y'all wanted to come with me." He glanced in the rearview mirror to meet Beth's gaze for a second.

She nodded eagerly, but Daryl was shaking his head.

"Can't," he muttered. "Gotta work. Been missin' too many hours, got bills ta pay."

Beth's heart fell with disappointment, but Rick was indifferent.

He shrugged in understanding and offered Beth another glance. "You available t'come with?"

"Yeah," she replied. "What'll it be, a couple hours? I can probably slip out after lunch."

"Perfect," Rick said. "That's when I was plannin' to head up there. We'll make it quick."

Daryl shifted in his seat, frowning like he was disappointed that he couldn't join them. But if he was, he didn't make it clear in his voice as he asked, "An' what about tomorrow night? Should we meet up again once ya got the equipment? Hash out a plan or whatever?"

"Shouldn't be necessary," Rick said, distracted with speeding past a slow-moving semi before the passing lane ended. "'Sides, I can't take that kinda time tomorrow night. Gotta go to Carl's parent-teacher conferences."

"So, after we get the equipment tomorrow," Beth chimed in from the backseat. "We're just gonna… meet back up on Friday and—"

"Go for it," Rick finished for her. "We can meet up a couple hours before the party. Go over the plan, make sure we all know what we're supposed to do. Then it's time ta get in there an' get this over with."

Merle scoffed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "Go fuckin' figure. The cop wants t'run in, guns a-blazin'. He don't even care how much risk he's puttin' y'all in, does he?"

Beth tensed, but tried not to let it show. She didn't particularly like agreeing with Merle, yet she couldn't deny when he was voicing her own concerns before they even popped into her head.

She looked to Daryl and asked, "You sure you can't come with us tomorrow?"

"Trust me," he murmured, chewing on his thumbnail nervously. "I wish I could. We need more time ta figure out a plan than jus' a couple hours before the party."

"We got time," Rick assured. "Look, I've got some ideas, but y'all are the ones who really know what we're gettin' into." He met Beth's eyes in the rearview mirror pointedly and added, "Particularly you. And Merle."

Merle sputtered. "Me?"

At the same time, Beth echoed his sentiment. "Me?"

"Yes, you. Both of you," Rick insisted. "You're the one who's seen into Philip's head. And Merle's the one who last came face-to-face with him."

"Ugh," Merle groaned, scowling unhappily. "Don't remind me."

Beth was thinking the same thing, recalling what she'd seen when she touched the matchbook—and when she'd gone into Judge Harrison's memories.

"You two know how he operates better than anybody," Rick went on. "You have a better sense of how he'll react. How t'get close to him without settin' him off."

Daryl interjected, "But yer the one with the experience. You're the one who thinks we can still make some kinda legal case outta this."

"'Cause we can," Rick said. "I'm not tellin' y'all to go in there and interrogate him. I sure as hell ain't encouraging you to do anything illegal. All we gotta do is get some information out of him. Figure out his next move. Work out a way to trap him so he's got nowhere to run."

"That's entrapment," Merle remarked with an eye-roll. "It's already illegal, dipshit."

Beth sighed, ignoring Merle. She was already exhausted by her racing thoughts. "And how're we supposed to do that?"

"Well, if we can get the equipment we need—and I don't see why we won't—then that means we'll have some recording devices and a tracker or two," Rick explained patiently. "Which means all you have t'do is find a way to get close to him, even just for a minute. Jus' long enough to sneak his phone away from him and put a bug on it. That's step one. Got it?"

Beth and Daryl both nodded in understanding, and Daryl asked, "And step two?"

Rick hesitated, though his confidence didn't waver. "See, that's where it gets a little trickier…"

"Love the sound'a this," Merle mumbled sarcastically.

"Y'all will basically be wearin' wires," Rick went on. "So, ideally, if one'a you can corner Philip an' buddy up to 'im, we can get some kinda audio evidence. I'm not sayin' he's gonna confess to anything, but it shouldn't be too difficult to get something incriminating out of him. 'Specially if he's drinkin'."

Beth shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the idea. But she couldn't deny that it was decent. "He is pretty cocky. Full of himself. He might be the type t'brag about stuff when he's in trusted company."

Rick snapped his fingers, grinning. "Exactly, Beth! And who better to coax him into braggin' than a pretty young woman like yerself? If you can catch him off-guard, maybe—"

"Woah, hold on a goddamn second," Daryl interrupted. "Are you really suggestin' that Beth should sidle up close to The fuckin' Governor jus' ta try an' get some kinda half-assed confession out of him?"

"Yeah," Beth agreed, just as taken aback as Daryl seemed to be. "Are you?"

But Rick was nonplussed. "All y'gotta do is get a few drinks in him an' make him think yer the type to be impressed by his stories. Get him comfortable enough an' he's bound ta slip up. It's just a party. I'm not sayin' you should put yourself in any kind of dangerous situation."

"It's The Governor!" Beth objected. "He's a murderer. How is being alone with him not a dangerous situation?"

Daryl grunted in agreement. "Yeah, what the fuck? She ain't goin' nowhere alone with that shitbag."

Beth's stomach fluttered happily at the sound of indignation in Daryl's voice. Though it was quickly ruined when Merle let out a low whistle.

"Ooh, Darylina's gettin' awful protective of his li'l dime-piece, ain't he?" He laughed, but she tuned him out.

"Relax!" Rick argued. "I didn't say a damn thing about her bein' alone with him. I would never expect her to put herself in that kinda situation. But I know it ain't gonna be you to charm any sorta information out of him." He shot Daryl a pointed look. "No offense, Daryl, but y'ain't the most personable man in the world. An' I can't imagine you'd be willing to have a friendly conversation with the man responsible for your mother's and brother's deaths."

Daryl scowled, but didn't argue. He went back to chewing his thumbnail nervously.

"And what makes you think I can charm anything out of him?" Beth asked. "He's out of his mind, Rick. He doesn't care about pretty girls—he doesn't care about anything except money and revenge."

Rick sighed. "I'm not sayin' you will get anything out of him, I'm just sayin' you gotta try. If nothin' else, we can get a tracker on his phone. And maybe an idea of what he's plannin' next. At the very least, we gotta keep an eye on him so he doesn't get too close."

She exhaled a shaky breath through her nose, slowly finding the logic in the Sheriff's plan. She had to at least try. "Without spooking him into fleeing into hiding again."

"Exactly," Rick confirmed. "We gotta tiptoe around this, but I trust that y'all will know how to handle it. And I'll be right outside, ready to jump in at the first sign of danger."

"Outside?" Daryl repeated. "Y'ain't even gonna go in with us fer this?"

"Told you," Rick said. "I'll be too obvious. I'm shit at playin' undercover. 'Sides, ya need somebody outside. I gotta make sure we're recording what we need. And I'll coach y'all through it, if need be. We can get earbuds or walkies or somethin', so I can communicate with you the whole time."

Daryl shook his head. "An' how d'we know he won't recognize me? That'd end this li'l plan 'fore it even gets started."

Before Rick had the chance, Beth reminded him, "It's a masquerade party. Nobody will see either of our faces. We're not gonna give him the chance to recognize us."

Rick hmphed. "What she said."

Daryl heaved a long sigh, obviously discontent with the whole idea. "I dunno 'bout this. Doesn't seem like much of a plan."

Rick chuckled, earning him a pair of quizzical looks from Beth and Daryl—and another from Merle. Then he shook his head and told them, with complete confidence, "Listen, I already came up with the gist of it. The rest is up to you two—er, you three, with Merle included. This is gonna be y'all's show. I'm just the backup."

At that, Daryl craned his neck around to look at Beth over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. She returned his look with wide eyes, almost certain that her face was draining of color.

Rick noticed their exchange and reminded them, "Y'all came to me for help, right? Well… I'm helping. Best I can. But I can only do so much."

Merle chortled, seemingly entertained. "Damn. Think I'm startin' ta grow a li'l fond of Officer Friendly. He's got more Bad Cop in him than I thought."

Beth shot him a glare.

"What? He's right!" Merle said. "We're the ones runnin' the show. We're the ones that know what the fuck's up. 'Sides, ya got a ghost on yer side. The hell y'need a cop for other'an backup? And maybe a credible character witness in court?"

He laughed loudly at his own poor joke, but Beth wasn't laughing at all. That dread was returning to her gut, making her hands tremble and her mind race.

She knew Rick was right. There wasn't really much he could do on the inside of the party. Not without giving them away and spooking Philip into fleeing entirely. And yeah, they had a literal ghost on their side. But she couldn't help remembering how Merle had let them down at the last minute inside Terminus Car Rental, and how Beth and Daryl had been forced to think on their feet with no warning just to get the information they needed without being caught.

And what if this turned out like that? She didn't think Daryl could fake another heart attack to get them out of a sticky situation. It wouldn't be that easy.

She just knew it wouldn't.

But she trusted Rick. And more than that, she trusted Daryl. Hell, at this point, she found herself almost trusting Merle in an odd sort of way.

Which left her with only one real doubt… whether she could trust herself to do what needed to be done. Or at least, to try.


When Rick had said he'd found a costume shop that was open later than most, Beth had fully expected him to drive them to a Spirit Halloween set up inside an abandoned Toys 'R Us, or maybe even one of the low-key Halloween stores that had popped up all over Atlanta for the season. However, as he pulled into a parking lot and found a spot to park his Hyundai, she saw a large sign hanging over the entrance that read: The Other Side: Year-Round Cosplay & Halloween Depot. Her heart leapt with excitement and she felt a burst of optimism course through her.

"Wow," she remarked as they all climbed out of the car and headed for the front doors. "This place looks great, Rick. How'd you find it?"

Rick shrugged. "It was the top-rated store when I Googled masquerade costumes. Think you can find what we need in here?"

"Definitely."

Rick led the way while Beth and Daryl followed behind him through the automatic glass doors, entering with wide eyes and curious gazes. Merle stepped up beside Beth, his head on a swivel.

"Where ya think the dressing rooms are?"

She shot him a suspicious look. "Why?"

But he must've spotted them over the aisles and racks, because he grinned and proclaimed, "Ah, there they are! Gonna try ta see some titties!"

Before she could voice her repulsion, he'd disappeared. They were approaching an aisle of children's costumes, Beth and Daryl following Rick absent-mindedly while they stared around at the large warehouse-like store and the many intimidating aisles.

Daryl cleared his throat and directed his question to Beth when he asked, "So, what're we lookin' for exactly? Sum'n with masks, I'm guessin'."

"Well, yeah. Not just anything, though," Beth replied. "Remember, it's a Masonic Lodge party at an upscale estate. We're gonna need to fit in with all the rich folks."

Daryl grunted, already worrying his lower lip as he gazed around with the slightest hint of confusion on his face.

When Rick stopped in the middle of the aisle and reached over to pull a toddler-sized costume off the rack, Beth asked, "Um—that's a little small, don'tcha think?"

Rick chuckled, holding the fairy princess dress in his hands and inspecting it closely. "Actually, I had more'an one reason ta come here tonight. I'm in charge of costumes this year. Already got Carl's, but I still need one for Judith." He held the sparkly pink thing up for Beth's examination and asked, "Whadd'ya think? Fairy princess?"

Beth sighed, though she couldn't help smiling. "I think you should be a little more creative or Lori might not let you be on costume duty again."

Daryl nudged her arm and told the Sheriff, "Alrigh', how 'bout you find a costume fer the kid while we go find ours."

"I'll wait for y'all over by the dressing rooms." Rick nodded in agreement and Daryl gestured for Beth to lead the way.

As soon as they reached the end of the children's aisle, Merle reappeared beside her, clearly upset. She gave him a questioning glance and he frowned.

"Big mistake," he muttered darkly. "I ain't ever peepin' in a dressing room again."

Coincidentally, they were passing by the dressing rooms, and she couldn't help but glance over to see what Merle had gotten himself an eyeful of. The only occupied door opened up and a heavyset man in his sixties stepped out, dressed in some kind of medieval costume. She had to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

Daryl shot her a bewildered look. "Wha's so funny?"

Merle grumbled, "Shut the hell up, blondie. It's not fuckin' funny. You got any idea how traumatic it is t'see old man balls?"

Beth just shook her head and whispered to Daryl, "Merle tried to peep in the dressing room."

At that, Daryl whipped his head over to see what she saw and quickly put the pieces together. He chuckled. "Fuckin' idiot."

"And fuck you, too, Daryl!" Merle snapped. "I did see some titties, y'know! Jus' not the titties I wanted…"

Beth sighed and continued moving forward, looking up at the signs hanging above the aisles and steering them towards the one labelled Masquerade. "Okay, seriously now, we need to get down to business. We can't half-ass this costume thing. We gotta blend in as best we can."

Daryl was following Beth, but he stopped at the end of an aisle about fifty feet from the section she was heading towards. She paused and turned back to see him eyeing a costume hanging on a rack, reaching out to touch it and looking to her with raised eyebrows.

"How 'bout this?" He suggested. "It's got a mask."

Beth smirked when she saw the Zorro costume. "Daryl, it's a masquerade. You can't walk in dressed as a movie character."

Merle laughed. "Dumb fuck." She shot him a scathing glare, thankful Daryl couldn't hear him.

The living Dixon let go of the costume and shrugged, a bit disheartened. "Well I'ono what the fuck masquerade means. Thought it jus' meant ya gotta wear a mask."

"I mean, technically you're right," Beth assured him. "But it's gonna be real fancy. Like, dress-shoes-and-long-coats-with-tails fancy."

He hummed in understanding and followed as she continued to lead the way towards the masquerade section. "Alrigh', whatever. I'll leave it up to you. Jus' don't make me look too ridiculous."

"You do that jus' fine all on yer own, Darylina," Merle quipped.

But Beth promised, "I won't. You'll look great. We both will."

"Am I gonna have to try on a bunch'a different shit?" Daryl asked, the slightest hint of dread in his voice.

She glanced back at him with a coy smile. "How else will we know if it looks good on you?"

He rolled his eyes but, to her surprise, did not protest. He actually seemed to trust her.

Maybe they were making more progress than she'd thought.


The section of the store labelled Masquerade was actually quite extensive and took up an entire back corner of the large building. As it was a weeknight and nearing closing time, there weren't many other customers left in the store, and Beth and Daryl were alone in the section save for one wandering teenager perusing through a shelf of masks and gloves, paying them no mind.

Beth spent a solid twenty minutes searching through the racks upon racks of costume pieces, vigilantly checking sizes and holding items out before her, briefly considering Daryl's opinion. He mostly shrugged and grunted, quirking a brow in doubt here and there, completely unsure of how to respond. He followed her around with an armload of clothing, the pile building higher and higher until he was holding it tightly to his chest, chin resting atop it and arms clutching at the bottom. She kept adding more to the pile in his arms, and though he appeared a bit more wary with each new addition, he didn't say anything. Not even when she picked out a salmon-colored men's suit with lavender frills around the collar. Though she was pretty sure that was because he didn't realize it was a piece meant for him.

Her concentration was briefly interrupted by the sound of clanging metal and a breathless, "Holy—what the fuck?"

She whipped her head around to see the lone teenager at the other side of the section, staring with wide eyes and slowly backing away from the shelf of masks. Merle was standing right in front of the rack, a mask slipped over his face, grinning wickedly and laughing at the teenager's pale-faced shock.

Beth sighed and called out, "Dammit, Merle! Leave that kid alone!"

His grin disappeared and he yanked the mask off, dropping it to the floor. The teenager looked around in bewilderment, spotting Beth and appearing even more spooked and confused than before. Then they muttered another "what the fuckin' fuck" before darting off towards the store's exit.

Merle heaved an overdramatic sigh and complained, "You never want me havin' no damn fun! I jus' wanna do haunty ghost shit while I can, tha's all."

Beth rolled her eyes and went back to sorting through costume pieces while Daryl looked from her to the mask on the floor with a furrowed brow.

A few minutes later, she decided she'd picked out enough options for them to try on and led the way to the dressing rooms. When they got there, they found Rick lounging in one of the three chairs situated in front of the dressing room doors—which were more like stalls than actual rooms—holding a small stack of costumes in his lap. A single employee was lingering around the desk nearby, occupied with sorting through go-backs and empty hangers.

Rick sat up to attention and eyed the pile of clothing in Daryl's arms curiously. "Y'all find what ya need?"

"Hopefully," Beth responded, grinning with excitement. She couldn't deny that she was downright giddy to try on a bunch of fancy dresses, and even more so to see Daryl in the outfits she'd picked. "Did you?"

Rick held up a toddler-sized costume and said, "Think so. Carl's gonna be a pirate, so I figured I'd have Judith match. Pirate princess."

Beth laughed at the sight of the pirate princess outfit. "Okay, good idea. Lori's gonna love that you made 'em match."

Rick grinned with delight, eyebrows raised. "Think so? I hope yer right. Been needin' to get back into her good graces."

Daryl grunted, heaving his armload of costumes onto the empty chair beside Rick and quickly changing the subject. "Got a bad feelin' about this."

Merle plopped himself down in the other empty chair, making himself comfortable. "I got a bad feelin' about it, too." Then he grinned, rubbing his hands together in excitement. "Can't wait t'see how goofy y'all end up lookin'!"

Beth ignored him and quickly separated the pile of costumes, handing half of the pieces over to Daryl. "Alright, here. Go try these on. The hangers are all color-coordinated, so you know which pieces go together."

Daryl grumbled unhappily, "Y'want me t'try all these on?"

"Duh," Beth teased with a playful smile. "And come out when you get each outfit on. So we can see how we look together."

Rick chuckled. "Oh boy, I get a show?"

"You're gonna be one of the judges," Beth said.

"Oh!" Rick laughed. "Even better!"

Merle was laughing, too, rubbing his hands together yet again. "Do I get a say?"

Beth shot the dead Dixon a stern look. "Only if it's helpful."

He put up his hands in mock surrender. "Alrigh', princess. Only constructive criticism. Got it."

Rick glanced to the seemingly empty chair, then back to Beth, his smile faltering. "Merle gets a say, too?"

Daryl interjected, "What? Merle gets a say?"

Beth sighed. "I just said, only if it's helpful."

Daryl mumbled under his breath unhappily. Nonetheless, he took his armful of costumes and disappeared behind the door of one of the dressing room stalls. Beth took her own armful of garments and slipped into the stall directly beside his.

After about five minutes—and lots of thumping around and hushed cursing from Daryl's stall—Beth unlocked her door and stepped out to present her first costume. It was a floor-length purple gown, complete with a matching bejewelled mask that covered her eyes and nose. She held out her arms and did a little spin, the extravagant, poofy lower half of the dress flowing around her.

Rick let out a whistle of admiration and remarked, "Wow, Beth, very nice."

"Thanks!" Beth beamed.

Merle grunted indifferently. "Looks more like yer goin' to a Renaissance Fair than a masquerade party." Then he chuckled and added, "That mask is doin' wonders, though. I'd say yer finally a six with half yer face covered, blondie!"

Beth rolled her eyes and shot the dead Dixon a glare of contempt before quipping back, "That's rich comin' from a solid three."

Instead of getting offended like she'd hoped, Merle's smirk grew into a wide grin and he cracked, "Damn, you think I'm a three?! I knew ya had the hots for me."

He cackled loudly while Beth scoffed and stifled her own little smile of amusement.

Rick arched an eyebrow and looked about to ask what she was talking about when the door of the other dressing room stall opened and Daryl emerged, appearing stiff and uncomfortable in his new get-up. It was the matching outfit to her own, a long-coated tuxedo in the same shade of purple, complete with frills and tight pants that ended several inches above his ankles.

Before anyone could say anything, he grumbled out, "I hate it. This is fuckin' torture."

Rick was struggling to stifle a laugh, covering his mouth with one hand, but Merle wasn't being quite so nonchalant as he laughed aloud. Beth had to admit she was fighting back her own grin at the sight of Daryl Dixon in what could only be described as an atrocity of a costume.

"I think you look," she started, hesitating for just a second as he glared at her. "Really dapper."

Rick burst out laughing and her straight face faltered to give way to a crooked smile. Daryl rolled his eyes and groaned, cursing them both as he quickly retreated back to the privacy of his stall.

"Oh, c'mon, Daryl!" Beth called out to him. "I mean it! You look handsome!"

"Screw you both!" He called back from over the door. "Costume number one is off the damn table!"

Beth looked back to Rick, who shrugged and admitted, "Prob'ly fer the better. Didn't suit him."

She nodded in agreement. "'Spose yer right. We'll try the next one."

And so she went back into her own dressing stall to change into the next costume while listening to the sounds of Daryl doing the same on the other side of the thin wall that separated them.

Their next attempt was about the same. Daryl hated the fit of the suit, Beth didn't much care for the amount of bare chest her dress was showing, and Rick seemed hesitant to admit it, but he ended up giving a thumbs-down and a heavy frown of disapproval. Merle laughed loudly and wiped tears from his eyes, all too amused by the sight of his baby brother in so many silly outfits, one after the other. Nonetheless, he gave Beth a brief nod of approval, only to break into louder laughter whenever his eyes landed on Daryl.

So it went for the next pair of costumes, and the ones after that, and yet another pair after that. Rick would give Beth an enthusiastic smile and a thumbs-up, and then Daryl would emerge, grumbling and cursing and squirming in his ill-fitted clothes, and Rick's smile would fade while Merle's grew wider. By the fifth and sixth costume changes, Merle was laughing less and offering genuine input, suggesting certain colors that didn't look good with Beth's skin tone and certain styles that complemented his brother's hunched posture.

By the seventh costume change, Daryl was cursing louder than ever inside his dressing stall. "I'm about t'just go with the damn Zorro costume, all this shit makes me look like I'm tryin' ta tame lions at the fuckin' circus!"

But Beth just chuckled and assured him, "We only have a couple left, one of 'em is bound to look good on both of us!"

And she was right, of course. This time, they emerged from behind their doors simultaneously, and she looked over just in time to see both Rick's and Merle's jaws drop. For a split-second, she expected them to burst out laughing. But they didn't.

Merle gave a huff of disbelief and Rick raised his eyebrows with a similar expression, and when she glanced over, she found Daryl looking her up and down with wide eyes. She couldn't help but look back at him the same.

"This," Rick said decisively. "This is it."

"Well shit, blondie, ya really did it," Merle said. "Ya found sum'n that makes my goofy baby brother look like a real fine gentleman. Color me impressed."

She couldn't help the grin that appeared on her face.

Then Merle quickly added, "Lookin' pretty fuckable yerself there, princess. Like the type'a broad I might think about callin' the next day. Nice work."

Beth resisted the urge to scowl at him and chose instead to take it as a genuine compliment. It was probably the best she'd ever get from Merle Dixon, after all.

Daryl was adjusting his salmon-colored jacket, appearing more comfortable in the outfit than he'd been in any of the others. He stretched out his legs and bent his elbows and took a gander down at himself, shrugging. "Don't feel too bad, even if I hate the color," he muttered.

She laughed and fisted her hands in the fabric around her waist, doing a quick 360 in her poofy, salmon-colored dress. The hem tip brushed against her ankles, the lacy top clinging to her shoulders and chest. "I think it looks good on you," she remarked. Though she quickly added, "On both of us."

She caught him smirking from behind shaggy, dark hair. Then he busied himself with adjusting his sleeves and turning to the side for a profile view as he gazed at his reflection in the nearby mirror.

"Yeah, these are definitely it," Rick concluded. "You two look incredible. Yer gonna blend in with no problem."

Merle scoffed, ever-hesitant to be too kind. "Should be good enough. Not that I'm sayin' we should stop tryin' on more goofy outfits." He barked out a laugh. "This's the best show I've seen in years!"


Before they left, Beth dragged Daryl to the shoes section for the final pieces of their costumes. She didn't need to ask to know that he didn't have any salmon-colored dress shoes in his wardrobe at home. Once he'd found a suitable pair that fit, she decided on a modest pair of heels in the same color—though not before trying them on and assuring herself they would allow for at least a few hours of comfortable wear.

"Make sure you can run in 'em," Merle remarked as she studied her reflection in the mirror.

"Why?" She asked, cracking a smile and expecting another wise-ass retort.

He shrugged, completely serious. "Never know what could happen."

The tone of his voice erased the smile from her face and she found herself actually contemplating his words. He was right, after all. They were coming face-to-face with a known murderer. And she was supposed to be the one sidling up close to said murderer, extracting information. She'd already seen just how unpredictable he could be.

Nonetheless, she brushed off Merle's comment and settled with the heels. She told herself that if worse came to worst, she could always ditch the shoes and run barefoot. Though she was really hoping it wouldn't come to that. How much further would she need to run than down the street to meet Rick, anyway?

Besides, Daryl would be there. And she felt in her heart, with unquestionable certainty, that he wouldn't let any harm come to her.

They finally exited the store with bags in hand and satisfied smiles, chatting light-heartedly about all the various outfits Daryl had been forced to try on while he rolled his eyes and begged them to erase the images from their minds. But that only proved to make Beth and Rick laugh a little harder.

Her laughter abruptly stopped, though, when she reached the car. A chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with Merle's presence.

It was the feeling of being watched.

She whipped her head to the side and peered across the parking lot, towards the shadowy darkness of a narrow alley set between two small businesses. She caught movement in the darkness and squinted, looking harder. Then a pair of glowing red eyes appeared, blinking at her. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she quickly realized what she was looking at.

A big, black dog.

She blinked and another pair of glowing red eyes appeared.

Two black dogs of equal size. And they were staring at her hungrily.

But she quickly looked away and climbed into the backseat of Rick's car, hoping her face hadn't gone as pale as it felt. Her blood was running cold in her veins, and she still couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

Defiantly, she thought, Screw you and your ominous signs, Legba. You can't scare me anymore.

Maybe if she kept telling herself that, she'd start to believe it. But there was no ignoring the sensation of dread that was turning her stomach.

Something more was coming. She could feel it.

And this time, she was ready.

to be continued…