Page 30 of A Christmas to Die For
"Is this fake?" Sabrina leans in, sniffing the unmistakable crimson stain. Maybe it's just corn syrup and red dye.
"Well?" I ask, waiting.
"I think it's real."
"What the fuck!" I shout, stomping my foot into the crusted ice. "Who would do this? This wasn't here when I put mystuff in."
"OOooOOoh, maybe youdidsee someone in the camera." Sabrina is wavering her voice like she's a ghost, clearly not seeing the severity of our situation.
"Let's just go back," I suggest.
"Are you crazy? The cabin is right there. We can't solve the problem here on our own. Here, look."
Sabrina unclips something from her waistband.
"A pocket knife? Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"It's a Benchmade!" Sabrina boasts. "These are pretty expensive."
"Do you even know how to open it?"
"Yes, missus. Do you want to hold onto it?"
"It's fine. I'm just—"
"The staircase is gone, look!" Sabrina gestures to the entrance, where a weathered "No Trespassing" sign swings on a rusted chain. The handrail is still intact, but the cement steps are broken apart, scattered across the ground, as if the police thought this would actually keep people out.
"Looks like we'll have to climb up the hill," Sabrina points, and the decision to go has already been made.
"Great,"I deadpan.
"I'm not exactly the most graceful, so please don't catch me face-planting in this slush," I tell Phoebe as I awkwardly side-step up the giant, slippery hill. That blood was really unexpected, but I'm not about to give up now when we are literally here, at the entrance.
I'm half-sliding my way up this hill. A large branch to balance with would've been nice. Poor Phoebe is clutching her handheld stabilizer, trying to keep her camera steady while climbing at an odd angle to keep me in frame.
At the top, I roll out my shoulders, my heart pounding and my blood turning toxic with nerves. In my calmest voice, I ask, "You good, Phoebes?"
She nods and gives me a thumbs-up just out of frame—her signal that she's recording.
"Hey, everyone. Welcome back toMaske of Sanity. I've got the ultimate treat for you today. Look where I'm at."
Phoebe pans to the cabin as we both dig our feet into the half-frozen earth, trying not to slip and slide all the way back down—like we're contestants on some ridiculous obstacle course game show.
"I'm standing at the very cabin that made national headlines, exactly one year after all hell broke loose. That's right. We're in Frosthaven Falls."
Even though this format is new for us, Phoebe's a pro. She gets wide-angle shots like she's reading my mind, no need for me to even say a word. She even captures the icicles still dangling from the eaves—sharp and glistening, glinting in the dim light like crystal knives. Menacing, yet beautiful.
"You ready?" I ask, my skin buzzing like it's crawling with invisible static. My nerves are getting the best of me. Why am I so jumpy? It's just an empty cabin. It's not like a killer is going to be hiding inside, waiting.
"Ready as you are," Phoebe replies. She's just as eager, and maybe just as scared.
A small wooden porch wraps around the entire house, though a large overhang shields us from the falling snowflakes.
The front door sits innocently enough. Not bolted up like I expected, no caution tape draped across it. The only warning was that simple, almost mocking sign at the base of the broken staircase. It shouldn't be this easy… right?
"What if it's locked?" Phoebe asks off-camera.
"We might have to do some Hollywood magic—break a window, crawl in, unlock it from the inside, and pretend it was open the whole time."
