All Hallows Eve, Vol. 3

Chapter 5

Five

Harper

As expected, other than having a slight tickle in my throat from coughing so hard, I don’t feel any different. The drink tasted and smelled terrible, and there’s still a faint lingering smell from the spill, but we can chalk it up to a silly evening of entertainment.

We showered, cleaning all the black lipstick smeared everywhere, and got into bed. Whitney almost immediately fell asleep on my shoulder. My mind doesn’t turn off as easily as hers, and I listen to her steady breathing while I calm down from the day.

My eyes finally start to flutter, and I turn to cuddle closer when I hear a loud thump from the other side of our dorm room. I sigh to myself, assuming it’s probably some drunk coed roaming the hall. It’s close to one a.m, and there are still plenty of parties in full swing.

Another bang has my eyes popping open. This one sounds louder. Closer.

We locked the door, right?

A third noise that’s more of a crash has me sitting up in bed, knocking Whitney off me. Groggy and confused, she grabs my arm, trying to pull me back down with her.

“Baby, come back to sleep.”

“I heard something.”

“People are still partying. Want to cuddle. Sleepy.”

“No. Seriously, Whit. I heard something in the apartment.”

She wakes up a little more, taking me seriously. “Inside? Are you sure?”

“No. Did we lock the door?”

She closes her eyes and rubs her forehead, deep in thought. “Um. I can’t remember, honestly. I put out the extra candy, and I think that was the last time either of us left. Sorry.”

“Shit. I swear I heard something. I was drifting to sleep, so it’s possible it may have been from outside.”

“Do you want me to go check for you?”

I glance behind me and see her beautiful pale skin on full display from the waist up. I accidentally pulled the blankets away when I sat up, leaving her exposed.

“We’re both naked. If it was nothing, which I’m sure it is, getting dressed is too much effort.”

Whitney hums her approval and pulls me back down into her arms. “Sleep.”

I chuckle as she nestles into me, and a few moments later, there’s another loud sound. Whitney sits up, this time looking concerned.

“Fuck. Okay. I heard that. That’s definitely inside the apartment.” She rolls out of bed, throwing on an oversized t-shirt, and grabs the bat we keep for safety. I do the same but add a pair of shorts to feel less naked and vulnerable.

Whitney rests the bat on her shoulder, and I walk to the closed bedroom door on her heels. She opens it and quickly peeks around the corner. Looking back at me, she shakes her head, letting me know she doesn’t see anyone. We keep the light on above the stove in case we get up in the middle of the night so she’s able to see down the hall.

“Are we going out there?” I whisper, my voice quivering from fear.

She places a finger over her lips, motioning me to be quiet as she steps into the hallway. I pause for a split second, deciding whether I’m staying or following, and quickly step with her. Our feet are quiet as we take delicate steps to make no noise.

Whitney stops in her tracks when she reaches the end and looks around the corner into the living room. Her hand flies to cover her mouth, and her eyes bulge as she turns to me. She saw something.

I mouth “what” and watch her nostrils flare as she composes herself.

“Three men,” she mouths slowly while holding up three fingers.

No way. How did three men get into our apartment? I never heard the door open.

“Three?” I mouth back, my eyebrows pulling together in fear and concern. Whitney nods, and we stare at each other, silently deciding what to do next.

“Hello?” A deep voice that sounds like silk drifts through the room. Whitney crashes into me at her shock, and I grab her waist to steady us. “Hello?” the voice repeats louder.

“We have a bat!” I yell, my voice sounding shakier than I’d like. Whitney’s eyes widen in shock that I spoke back, and I shrug.

“I do, too, but I’m sure mine is more pleasurable.” That voice was different—a slight rasp to his tone. If I wasn’t in so much shock, I’d probably laugh at his bad joke, but there are three strange men in our apartment, and one of them just referred to his dick as a bat.

“What do you want?” Whitney finally speaks up and turns back to face the living room. I give her a little shove, and she side-eyes me before stepping forward. She hovers the bat a few inches from her shoulder, ready to swing if needed.

Before us stand three incredibly sexy men with various smiles on their faces. Whitney and I quickly look at each other and back at them. This is the craziest thing I’ve ever seen. Only one is wearing a shirt, but it’s wide open and barely hanging on his shoulders. It’s red flannel, and he has a longer dark beard and eyes to match, giving him the hot lumberjack look. The guy in the middle has wavy blond hair and sun-kissed skin. His blue eyes pierce, and his black swim trunks hang low on his hips, showcasing the perfect V that dips below the fabric.

“Evening, ladies,” a sweet southern accent drawls from guy number three. He has a close-cut beard, jeans that sit open on his hips, and a cowboy hat that he tips with his greeting.

“H-hi.” I stammer. Being equally terrified and entranced. Our bat holds no weight if the three of them decide to gang up on us.

“Harper. What do we do?” Whitney sounds as confused as I feel. “Do they look… familiar?”

“We apologize for the interruption, little ladies. Might I introduce myself? Name’s Beau.” He tips his hat again. “Beau Dalton.”

“What? That’s… No ,” I whisper more to myself than to be heard. “Beau Dalton? Whitney, he said his name is Beau Dalton.”

She scrutinizes him, and I watch her eyes drift to the table where we left the drying book from earlier in the evening.

“I’m Cruz Rivers,” says the surfer-looking guy, drawing our attention back to him.

“Whitney, do you see it?” I see it, but I don’t believe it.

“Yeah. Who’s the lumberjack in Chopping Her Heart Open? It’s an animal name, isn’t it?”

“Hen—”

“Henry Fox, beautiful ladies. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His baritone timbre vibrates through my core.

Whitney half-turns and pushes me back into the hallway, but she stays halfway between the rooms to watch them.

“We’re dreaming, right? Harper, tell me we’re dreaming. There’s no way the three men standing in our living room are the MMCs from the three books sitting on the kitchen table.”

“I’d love to tell you yes, but there’s no way I’m dreaming too.”

“But if I was dreaming, wouldn’t you tell me that exact same thing? Ouch! Why are you so violent today? Did you need to pinch me?” She rubs the spot where I pinched her to reduce the sting.

“Now you know you’re awake, don’t you?”

Whitney gives me a smug look before turning to check on our visitors. I peek, too, and they haven’t moved. The three stand waiting for… what?

“What do we do?” Whitney pleads. “Do you think the potion did this? I thought it was just a fun joke?”

“So did I. I never expected bottled water and crushed flowers would do anything real.”

“You’re the smart one, Harper. How do we get them back in the books?”

My eyes scan the room, looking for any clue. I really wish I had a pencil and paper so I could make a list.

How did we get here? I made a love potion that smelled and tasted nasty. Whitney accidentally spilled the leftovers, specifically on the three books sitting on the kitchenette. Now it seems the book boyfriends from those three books are standing in our living room, giving us… hungry eyes.

“I need to look at the grimoire. Maybe I made a mistake?”

We shuffle into our tiny dorm kitchen, leaving little room to separate us. I open the book to the page where I left the silk bookmark and carefully inspect the ingredients. Everything looks right, so I look over the measurements.

I gently rub a spot on the paper and look closer. “Shit.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Whitney looks over my shoulder, trying to see what made me curse.

“I-I read this measurement wrong for this vegetable root. I thought it said twenty-five milligrams, which I thought was a lot, but”—I lean closer and inspect the numbers—“there’s a tiny decimal that’s barely there. It was only supposed to be two point five milligrams.”

Whitney grips my arm in panic. “Oh my god, are we gonna die?” Her eyes dart several times between the three men and the book.

“Well, not from the drink I made. All the ingredients were natural, and nothing was toxic at any level. I don’t know about our fate with them , though.”

It’s a statement I’m not happy to make, but it’s true. I don’t know what happens now or what their intentions are.

“Oh, fuck. Look.” Whitney releases her vice grip on my arm, scurries to the table grabbing the three books, and returns to my side. Handing me a book, I look it over in disbelief, turning it in my hands several times as Whitney does the same.

“They’re gone, Harper.”

“Not, gone. They’re standing in front of us. The men are no longer on the covers of the books because they’ve manifested into our living room.”