Page 8 of Scary In Love
6
Mason
TheTavernisthespot guests arrive in immediately after exiting the haunt. It’s a place to decompress after the horrors of the main event, and I’ve pulled old furniture from all over the house to make sure they can relax and enjoy Halloween-themed drinks.
It’s also where I’ll spend most of the night, a base to make sure everything is going as planned. The cast and crew have rehearsed each scene often enough that I’m confident it will take guests one hour to make their way through all our rooms, but tonight I can’t focus. I’m too busy watching the door, hoping the mystery beauty from the bottom of the stairs will walk through it soon.
It’s still early.
She’ll turn up eventually.
Staff in the Tavern wear 1920s outfits: tweed suits, club-collar shirts, and flat caps. With bloody faces and an assortment of weapons, we’ve obviously been brawling, though it’s not clear if we’re the victims or the instigators. Our well-rehearsed lines should keep guests guessing until the doors close at eleven sharp.
My weapon of choice is an axe with a long wooden handle, a dummy prop that makes a great addition to the bartending experience when I smack the butt down on the bar top, or serve carefully balanced shots off the flat side of the head.
Sammy has a pistol, Lulu has a blade hidden down the front of her corset, and she’ll do a great bit, whipping it out when it’s time for customers to pay up.
Given how much an alcohol license and security cost, I’m hoping we’ll make plenty of extra cash through the bar, and we want people to stay as long as possible.
Everything is on schedule until my radio earpiece sparks with the one thing no haunt director ever wants to hear.
“Medical assistance required in the drawing room. Medical assistance required in the drawing room.”
I push the button to talk and grab a first aid kit from underneath the bar. “On my way.”
My pocket watch is an authentic part of my costume, which luckily still works. We’ve only been open for twenty minutes. How can we have a first-aid incident already? And in the drawing room, of all places? All guests have to do is walk in and sit down.
My brain whips through the details of the room. Two sofas, one table, no trip hazards, one—
Oh shit. The fireplace.
When I drew up our risk assessment, necessary for both a safe experience and insurance purposes, I knew the open fire would be deemed high risk. But I have safety protocols in place; a fireguard, extinguishers, and a room crew who know to keep guests away from open flames. That brought the risk down to medium, but if someone’s been burned, I’ll never forgive myself. It’ll be the end of haunt season, and my time here too.
First-aid instances aren’t unheard of in scare houses. Usually, it’s a fainting guest, and we take them to a bright, modern room for a cup of tea and reassurance that it was all made up and everything will be absolutely fine.
If it’s not a burn, and Clarissa’s made someone faint in the very first room, then she deserves a bonus.
“Ron, hold the next group until I give you my word,” I say through my earpiece.
“Copy that.”
In his role as Jessop, the butler, it’s Ron’s job to greet our guests and help them enter the house on time. He sets the scene for the story, but he’s also a master at making stuff up on the spot, and I’m sure he can entertain them for a few minutes.
It took a while to learn the layout of the house, but I know every inch now, even in the dark. I weave through the corridors that are closed off to the public and get there in under thirty seconds.
As per protocol, the team has turned the lights up, and stepped out of character to support our guest. Though in these costumes, you wouldn’t know it.
Every room has a mix of interactive actors, the ones who tell their part of the Miller family story, and scare actors. Their role is fairly self-explanatory. One of those will be the room lead, and it’s their responsibility to make sure everything runs smoothly. Through rehearsals, they form a tight-knit crew who will scare and reset, over and over again, every night for the three weeks we’re open.
When I burst into the drawing room, I find Clarissa and Matteus, our Lady Miller and our scare actor, huddled around the sofa but no sign of Mikey.
They step aside to reveal the guest, reclining on our sofa, clutching her knee, chest heaving as she breathes deeply.
Her.
The woman at the bottom of the stairs.
The most beautiful woman I have ever seen.
