Bells of Demonio (Kings of Terror 1)

Tyson crossed his arms and sat back against the booth. “That’s your definition of not recent, bro?”

“Come on, we’ll be fine. We’re in a group and we’ve traveled to far shadier places than this,” Jacob soothed.

“There are people here dressed as the worst kind of psychopaths. What if one of them channels their festive persona a little too much? Did you see the guys dressed like them, Wrong Turn hillbillies? I don’t want to get eaten.”

“Ty.” I turned towards him as much as the booth would allow and placed a hand on his fuzzy arm. “You will be fine. Nothing is going to happen to us.”

I wouldn’t downplay his concerns. Alex really should’ve mentioned this sooner. We may have been fine with it, if not wary, but Tyson wasn’t as into all this as much as we were.

He’d skipped last year’s trip because he got engaged and she hated us. He was here now because he’d gotten rid of her.

“How did they go missing?” Bellatrix asked.

“Near the woods.”

“That’s where not how.”

He made a sound of annoyance. “I don’t know how. Like I said, it has something to do with that story we heard inside the haunted house. That’s what made me remember it in the first place.”

“That story about the Leprechauns?” Jacob questioned.

“Babe, please. Leprechauns aren’t real and if they were I don’t think they’d live in the woods.”

With that, we all knew which story he was referring to.

“Creepy demon creatures aren’t real either,” Collin huffed.

Alex wiggled his brows. “You sure?”

“That was a local folk tale meant to do exactly what it is, scare people. None of us have heard of it until now. Seriously? You think demons are lurking in the woods, man?”

Jacob tilted his head and pointed at him. “They are demon-people. They live in the woods, not lurk. In a big giant mansion. There were pictures of it and everything.”

Collin tossed his hands up. “No shit. It was part of a haunted house. Ever heard of props?”

“That make people go missing?” Alex retorted arrogantly.

Seeing Tyson was becoming more uncomfortable, I shared a look with Bellatrix.

“Okay, enough,” she interjected. “Demon people or not it doesn’t matter. We’re not going into the woods. They’re off-limits anyway. We all heard the same tale.”

That seemed to hold them over for the time being, thankfully. They could debate for hours on end about this kind of stuff. Local legend or not, whoever came up with the story being broadcast throughout the haunted house put a lot of detail and vivid imagery into it.

I kept my thoughts on the folk tale to myself. Opening my mouth would only make this worse. I’d circle back to the discussion later. I knew for a fact it would be coming up again.

A group of four filed into the restaurant, cutting off my study of the back wall as I caught a glimpse of them in my peripheral.

Don’t stare. I told myself, doing exactly that. It was hard not to. I’m pretty sure the entire Hell House patronage and the employees were doing the same thing. Bellatrix and Tyson certainly were.

They lingered by the podium waiting to be seated, unbothered by the attention.

The group consisted of three men—all broad-shouldered and tall—and a woman with bright blue hair, so small she could’ve been a pixie. Her costume was the complete opposite. It was giving modern Nancy Drew. She was just cute enough to pull it off.

Her companions on the other hand were wearing something straight out of Peaky Blinders or off old school Wallstreet, button-down blazers beneath tuxedo suit vests, complete with ties and dark pants. Their costume make-up was so well done it could’ve been applied by an FX artist.

I tried to piece together what exactly they were supposed to be.

The man furthest away, his head was completely buzzed on either side with a stylish mess of dark hair on top. The contacts he was wearing made one of his eyes pitch black and the other a glowing shade of ember.

The guy on the opposite end, closest to us, had tapered hair almost the same shade as Bellatrix’s and mine.

He was wearing the same kind of eye modifications, only his were both an unusual shade of silverish white, similar to the ones my sister and I hid.

The man dead center was the largest of the three with a full head of hair somehow darker than mine that went to his nape and curled at the ends. He had the contact thing going on too. One eye a translucent hue and the other the same color as his hair.

All of that was taken in before their main features—the face masks. They started at their noses and wrapped around the jaw, appearing almost skeletal between strips of flesh. One turned to say something and when they opened their mouth, two, rows of pointed white teeth became visible.