Page 25 of The Trick

“Yep, you got it,” I grin, curiosity beginning to mount to painful proportions.

Reluctantly, Delilah moves to the doorway and with her hand on the doorknob, she turns to me. “I mean it, if you need help, you tell me. Promise?”

“Promise,” I lie.

As soon as Delilah is out of sight, I scurry over to the bathroom. My heart rattles against my chest, making my pulse feel like it’s drumming at my ears as I mentally prepare myself for the latest round of what’s sure to be a fucked up surprise. Locking myself inside one of the stalls, my curiosity guides my hands first to the bloodied envelope.

The metallic aroma that’s been present ever since I snatched the box from Delilah’s purse is now heightened as I sit down. Notes of iron and copper consume my senses the closer the bloodied envelope comes to my face while I open it.

Coarse card stock, thicker than the one from the note before scratches at my palm. It’s another handwritten note containing more from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. However, as I skim past the remaining excerpt, I notice another message, this time written in bold, capitalized letters in a distinctly red hue.

“If his path had not been crossed by a being that causes more perplexity to mortal man than ghosts, goblins, and the whole race of witches put together, and that was – a woman” – Washington Irving

THEY SAY REVENGE IS SWEET. I WONDER JUST HOW SWEET IT TASTES…

I read the last sentence over, unable to discern what he means by emphasizing the sweet appeal of revenge, I crumple the note in hand. It’s then as I sit in the narrow confines of the bathroom stall, forced to stare at the black box in my hands, that the unexpected scent of warm sugar begins to beat at my nostrils.

The word “sweet” echoes in my mind. “Tastes sweet?” I ask myself aloud as my stomach begins to flip, wondering what the fuck I’m holding that can smell both sweet and like copper death at the same time.

Peeling the taped seal open, the sweet and bitter aroma nips at my face. Beneath a bed of crinkled gift paper, lay a dozen Pillsbury Halloween cookies. Just like the ones my mom held hostage from me, ironically, fifteen years ago when this nightmare started. I don’t reach for one, I know better. No one receives baked treats from their stalker with a note emphasizing the sweet bliss of revenge without there being a catch.

Appraising the batch of cookies, I notice a patch of red poking through from beneath the first row. Shaking the box gently to shift the top layer out of place, a row of crimson frosted cookies appears with H31 and F666 written on them in what definitely looks like blood overtop what should be an adorable pumpkin.

What an asshole. Who decorates perfectly good cookies with blood? I can’t eat this now, I’m not a fucking vampire. Oh, I swear, this man is maddening. He sure knows a way to ruin everything that’s good, including my mood, because as if I wasn’t already, I’m fucking over him and his lame games.

I go to stand up so I can toss this shitty gift in the garbage when I’m reminded of the box’s weight.

Scooping the cookies up, along with the gift filler, I open the lid to flush them down the toilet, revealing two more gift boxes, each smaller than the one before.

I rip the second box open and an unsettling rush of déjà vu washes over me. The sea of black tissue paper that covers whatever “gift” he has next for me becomes lost in the backdrop. All I can focus on is the small glass cylinder that looks almost identical to Glinda’s ring.

My mind begins to race, wondering if Glinda had some involvement in this because what are the chances that I receive a vial of blood damn near identical to the one she was wearing. Or maybe he’s gotten to her too and there is more at play here. Either way, I feel compelled to reach for it.

As I remove the vial, I feel something pull against the chain it’s attached to. The more I yank the necklace towards me a web of leather straps and buckles begins to unravel until an intricate body harness is unveiled. The chain that drapes down securing the blood-filled vial is centered on a thick black collar that gives way to a leather strap that goes down the sternum. Lace coincides with the leather on the bottom piece of the harness that looks like it’s meant to be secured at the crotch. My fingers graze the lace, noticing a piece of paper wrapped around the middle.

Unraveling the paper, another handwritten note awaits me.

Since I went out of my way to bake your favorite cookies and have this harness custom made with your exact measurements—yes, I have memorized every inch of your 38 – 26.5 – 40 body—I expect to see you shaking your ass on stage wearing what I gifted you. And because it’s almost Halloween and I’m in a giving mood, I have one more surprise for you. I’ll give you a hint. You tried to stab me once with it and I would love to see you try again...

Tossing the note on the ground, my fingers skim past the lingering tissue paper until I feel the familiar handle of the knife that’s been held hostage by this psycho all these years. Excitement creeps in my veins, increasing by the second, as my fingers curl around the smooth handle.

A smile washes over my face as I lift the steel to my red painted lips, pressing a kiss to the blade.My lips linger on the cool steel, savoring this moment when the last sentence from the note swarms my periphery, cutting this blissful reunion short.

Oh, and I hope you don’t mind…I added a little something to the handle.

Removing the blade from where it’s been pressed against my lips, dread fills me as my eyes slowly scan down from the blade to the handle.

My chest tightens from the anger that begins to burn through my sternum as I stare at thenewengraving etched just past the small initials I had added when I first got it.

’Til death.

My gaze locked on the stupid idiom, I feel my temples begin to throb, brainstorming all the ways I’m going to cut him with my knife he so graciously returned to me.

I remain lost in my thoughts, until a shiver suddenly erupts, crackling its icy heat down my spine. The theme song to Halloween begins to play, rattling the speakers in the bathroom that are connected to the main stage area, signaling that the Horseman’s Hollow Duel is about to begin.

Which means he’ll be here any minute ready to torment me… like I deserve.

CHAPTERTEN

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