Page 28 of Dirty Tricks

The journey takes us into the hills, winding up the steep bends of the narrow road. Everyone else is in a jovial mood, some boys calling out a rugby team chant, others trying to top each other with ribald jokes; cheering and laughing, shouting out the punchlines.

I keep a smile in place, nodding or shaking my head when Jenna or Vonnie addresses me, otherwise staring out the window, melding into the shadows as I usually do.

The contrast of their excitement just serves to intensify my dread. My only relief is that with Finn driving, I don’t have to bear the weight of his gaze.

The bus is an ill-fitting shape for the steep and narrow street, especially on the corners. I close my eyes and think thin thoughts as it travels higher until we finally turn onto a large flat parking lot already crowded with vehicles.

“Everybody dismount,” Finn cries as the vehicle shudders to a halt. “The passcode for the door is six-six-six, sixty-nine.”

An obligatory snort comes from the teenage boys.

I drop a pin for Xander then join the queue. I count fourteen people plus me as we enter the new venue.

It’s an old sanitorium of some kind and I keep my arms close by my side, not wanting to catch any old-fashioned diseases that might leak from the porous walls.

Inside, there’s a far spookier atmosphere than the bright lights and fun decorations of the party we just left. Cobwebs stretch from wall to wall, appearing so real I stick close behind Finn, letting him break the clingy strands apart.

There’s a large lobby with candles dripping molten wax until they’re twice as fat and half as tall. The flickering light makes shadows dance along the old concrete walls. Dark patches show where moisture has stealthily invaded over the years, letting mould spread its dank fingers from the cracks like monstrous wallpaper.

“This is so cool,” Vonnie squeals in my ear, literally jumping with excitement. A bat flies across our path, the string guiding it only obvious after we’ve shrieked.

Once we mount the circular staircase to the mezzanine, we find other partygoers. The costumes here are far darker, far sexier than our school dance. As a man with a ball gag in his mouth and a satisfied expression in his eyes walks past, drawn by a long leash, I admit that Finn’s bunny costume would have fit right in here. Arse plug and all.

“Through here,” he tells me, gripping my wrist so I can’t misunderstand.

He leads me along a passageway, ducking into a door at the end, the only marking on its khaki painted metal a pentagram that looks like it’s drawn in blood.

“Wait,” I call out, turning to see a crush of red masks and neither of my friends. “Where’s Jenna and Vonnie?”

“At the bar,” Todd’s voice says from behind the mask nearest me. “They’ll bring their drinks through here when they’re ready.” He raises his mask, wiping sweat from his brow. “I gave them the directions.”

The words should be reassuring but instead they drip another layer of fear along my tingling spine. His eyes are flat and cold. As I stare at him, they seem scarcely human.

“It’s set up for selfies,” Finn says, swerving me away from Todd to tuck me under his arm. “We can all get some great shots and make the rest of the school look like amateurs.”

As we move farther inside, I steal frightened glances around the decorations, unease increasing at every snatched image.

Along the walls are chains, manacles, some with skeletons dangling from their rusted iron bracelets. A large shadow moves across the corner of the room, something far bigger than a bat being drawn on a string.

In the centre are stocks, the old wooden boards sitting open, ready to entrap its next victim. Beside it is the matching pillory, the neck and wrist holes gaping like open mouths.

Each direction brings a worse surprise. None of the items look like playthings, staged to cause a fright. A rack in the corner looks like its gasping for its next victim, like having tasted the glory of a live body being twisted into disfigurement at least once, it’s ready for more.

I instinctively cling closer to Finn, shoulders shaking when that shadow moves again, snuffling sounds filling the room as our echoing footsteps cease.

“Fuck me,” Todd says in strangled admiration. “This is some next level Halloween shit.”

“Ooh. Look at the doggy,” a hockey-masked boy behind me says, moving over to pat the head of the creature skulking in the shadows. “Why would someone leave this little cutey here? Who’s a good boy?”

The dark furred hell hound steps into the light as the boys coax it into play. It stands two feet high at the shoulder, dark hair gleaming with the good health of a careful owner.

Okay, it’s not a hell hound at all. With its large paws and eagerness, I doubt the dog is long out of puppyhood.

Finn jerks his head at Todd, and he moves, snapping his fingers in front of the animal and shooing it from the room.

I wish I could follow it to safety or that Finn could be that easily dissuaded from his plans. Instead, he grips my wrist tighter, then pulls me hard back against him, both of us facing forward, his arm clamped so tightly across my shoulders, I can barely move.

“Who’s up for a photo?” he asks with forced jollity. Then, when a volunteer steps forward, he gives a menacing chuckle. “Into the stocks!”

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