Halloween Party (Fear Street Book 8)

The smell of motorcycle exhaust hung in the air. Several kids began congratulating Terry and David on getting rid of the two bikers, but their thanks were subdued. Everyone seemed to be in shock.

“Nice going,” Murphy said.

“We did what we had to,” said David, wiping his bloody face with a tissue. “Maybe they’ll go pick on someone else for a while.”

“Justine, where’s your phone?” said Terry. “We’ve got to report this to the police.”

Panic and alarm crossed Justine’s face. “No! No police.”

“But they broke into your house!” said David. “They vandalized it! And you heard their threats.”

“That’s all they were—just threats,” Justine said. She moved closer to David, put a hand on his arm, and stared directly into his face. “Those boys are bullies,” she said. “All swagger and no substance. They wouldn’t dare come back after the way you and Terry faced them down.”

“Well, I don’t know,” David said uncertainly.

“Really, everything’s fine now,” said Justine. “A few of the decorations are ruined, but so what? What’s important is that no one was really hurt. Alex? Terry? Are you all right?”

“Fine,” muttered Alex.

“I’m okay,” said Terry. His cheek hurt where Bobby had punched him, and he suspected there would be a big bruise, but no real harm had been done.

“Thank you, all of you, for being so brave,” Justine said, turning her smile up to full wattage. A look of mischief crossed her face, and then she added, “Now are you brave enough for the next surprise?”

“You mean we’re just going to keep going as if nothing happened?” said Angela.

“Well, I hope so,” said Justine. “If we stop now, Bobby and Marty will have won. Besides,” she added, her lovely face turning pouty, “I’ve worked so hard planning everything. We haven’t even had half the surprises yet.”

“We also haven’t settled things between the jocks and the wimps,” added Murphy Carter. “Of course, if you wimps want to concede defeat now—”

“No way!” said Ricky. “We’re just as game as you guys. And for your information, our team has a few more tricks up its sleeve.”

“Good,” said Justine. “Then it’s settled. Why don’t you all relax for a while. I’ll bring out more food. And then in a few minutes we can start the treasure hunt.”

She disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

Terry was starting to get his second wind and wondered what Justine’s next surprise could be. He sneaked a glance at Alex, who was leaning against the wall beside the fireplace, fully recovered from his injury.

Alex caught his eye and shrugged. Then he mouthed one word: wimp. Terry knew he had to stay on his toes. Alex was still into this dumb contest. That meant Terry had to be too. No way Alex was going to win, after everything that had happened.

Justine and Philip brought out trays with hot apple cider and cookies, and soon everyone was relaxed and in a party mood again.

The tape machine was playing golden oldies from the fifties, and Trisha and Ricky began dancing to “At the Hop.” Trisha was smiling and seemed happy again.

“I love these old songs!” Angela said, clapping in time to the music. She leaned back against a corner of the stone fireplace, then gave a little shriek as it shifted and opened.

Where the solid stones had been—was a human skeleton, its hollow face grinning mindlessly.

There were several screams and then the sound of laughter as everyone realized it was another “surprise.”

“I see you’ve discovered one of our trapdoors,” Justine said with her smile.

“One of them?” said Angela. “You mean there are more?”

“Remember,” said Justine. “I promised a lot of surprises.”

“Rad,” said Angela.

“How you doing, Funny Face?” Terry turned to Niki, who was leaning back against the cushions on the sofa beside him, sipping cider.

“Okay,” she said. “How are you?” She gently touched his cheek where Bobby had hit him.

“I’m okay,” he said. “I just hope Bobby and Marty don’t—”

He was cut off by a surprised shriek.

“What is that?” protested Angela, her face twisted in disgust.

“Human brain,” said Ricky. He was standing in front of her, innocently holding a dark metal box.

“Get real!” said Alex. “Where would you get a human brain?”

“From my uncle,” said Ricky, still innocent. “He runs a medical supply house. He let me borrow it for the party.”

Angela looked as if she was going to be sick.

“Let me see that!” Murphy said.

“I can’t take it out—we’d ruin it,” said Ricky, holding the box tighter. “Of course, if you want to touch it—”

Alex defiantly thrust his hand into the box, then just as quickly pulled it out with a strangled cry.

“Sort of slimy, isn’t it?” said Ricky smugly. “Anyone else want to try?”

“Sure,” said David. He walked up to Ricky, pretended to put his hand in the box, but grabbed it instead and turned it upside down. The contents slithered out, landing on the stone hearth with a sickening plop.

“Some brains!” said David. “Looks like cold spaghetti to me. Gotcha!”

“No, I gotcha first,” said Ricky. “Angela and Alex both thought it was brains.”

“No, we didn’t,” protested Alex. “We were just putting you on. This is one for the jock team—”

The argument about whose gotcha it was stopped when Justine rang a little bell.

“May I have your attention?” She was standing in front of the fire, and outlined in light it was almost possible to believe she was a vampire. To one side of the fireplace her uncle Philip sat slouched on a stool, the artificial tear sparkling on his sad clown’s face.

“Is everyone back in the groove, ready to party?” Justine asked. Without waiting for an answer, she went on. “It’s time for the next surprise. This one is a treasure hunt, but it’s not like any treasure hunt you’ve ever heard of.”

“A treasure hunt!” exclaimed Trisha. “What fun!”

“Get real,” said Murphy. “Treasure hunts are for little kids—and wimps.”

Justine, still smiling, turned to Murphy. “You might not think so when you see the list of items,” she said teasingly. “But, of course, no one has to participate. In fact, it could be a little dangerous. This treasure hunt is only for those who are really brave.”

“Hey, I never said I wouldn’t participate,” said Murphy.

“Good,” said Justine, her cat-green eyes sparkling with excitement. She began passing out a photocopied list. “This is a list of the items Uncle Philip and I have hidden around the mansion,” she went on. “There are treasures in every room—on both floors and in the attic and basement. Whichever team finds the most treasures by midnight will win a special prize.”

Everyone grabbed the lists and prepared to rush off—but Justine’s voice stopped them. “One more thing,” she added. “Please be careful. After all—anything can happen on Halloween.”

Trisha found the first treasure before anyone had even left the living room. While Justine was still explaining the rules, Trisha carefully removed the food still sitting on the casket and opened it to reveal a bundle of bones wrapped in tattered blue cloth. The hand bones of a mummy.

“I’ve got a treasure!” she cried. “But, Justine, is this really from a mummy?”

“Supposedly,” said Justine. “We picked it up in Egypt.”

For the next few minutes everyone checked out the ground floor. There were constant shrieks and laughter as one person after another discovered a new treasure—or a trick.

“This is great, isn’t it?” said David, laughing, as he and Terry simultaneously walked into the pantry from opposite doors.

“I can’t believe all this weird stuff Justine and her uncle have,” Terry said. He showed David the only treasure he’d found so far—a hairy tarantula preserved in a glass paperweight. “I found this in the toilet tank.”

“I found my treasure in a terrarium,” David said, showing Terry a stuffed cobra. “At first I thought it was alive because it was moving around. But then I saw it was attached to an electric motor.”

“I’m not even sure I want to find some of this stuff,” Terry said, scanning his list. “A bottle of blood?”

“Murphy already found that,” David said. “He was prowling around in the front hall and tripped over a loose floorboard. The bottle was right under it.”

“Catch you later,” Terry said. David was a good guy, he realized. Too bad the other jocks weren’t more like him. The thought of the jocks made him think of Alex, which made him think of Niki, and he wondered where she was in this big spooky house. Maybe he’d run into her.

Niki looked at the list halfheartedly. Even though this was the greatest party she’d ever been to, she wasn’t that interested in fun and games.

The party still seemed like a mystery to her. Nothing added up. The treasure hunt, she decided, was the perfect chance to explore the mansion freely.

She replayed in her mind the conversation she had lip-read when Justine was in the phone booth, and had now decided that it didn’t have anything to do with the party.

After all, Justine seemed only to care about her guests having a good time. And despite her weird uncle, she was really sweet.

But there was still something intriguing about her, and Niki was determined to find out what it was. She would have felt a little guilty about searching the house, but the treasure hunt gave her the perfect excuse. It wasn’t even snooping, not really . . . .

She was working her way through the rooms on the top floor. So far none of them contained anything of interest to her.

She entered a large bedroom at the back of the house and switched on the light. She jumped back, her heart pounding, as a huge glowing head dropped in front of her. After a second she realized it was just another one of Justine’s surprises.

She switched the light off again, and the head was pulled back up to the ceiling on an automatic reel. After a little searching she found a lamp and clicked it on, then smiled in satisfaction.

From the perfume bottles and cosmetics on the antique vanity and the beautiful ruffled pink satin bedspread, she realized she must be in Justine’s room.

You can tell a lot about a person by examining her bedroom, Niki thought. For example, take her own bedroom. Her sewing stuff and the fashion cutouts on the bulletin board showed her interest in fashion design. Her collection of stuffed dogs showed that she loved animals and hoped someday to raise them. And her rock posters showed just the sort of music she preferred.

But, she realized, standing in the middle of Justine’s room, this room didn’t say much about Justine at all. There were no stuffed animals, no pictures of movie actors or rock stars, no hint of a hobby, nothing personal at all, except for a picture of a smiling man and woman from the fifties in an ornate frame on the vanity.

Justine’s schoolbooks were stacked on top of the radiator, but there was nothing in the room that could be used as a desk.

Strange, Niki thought. Justine must not take school very seriously. But then, she reminded herself, after all the places she’s lived, Shadyside must seem like very small potatoes.

She opened each of the drawers in a chest, but there wasn’t much in them besides a few folded pairs of underpants and some sweaters.

Her curiosity piqued even more—by what she hadn’t found—Niki opened the closet door and was shocked to find it almost empty, except for the school clothes she’d seen Justine in.

Where were her jeans, sweatshirts, sneakers? What did she wear after school? Didn’t she have any party dresses?

She took her flashlight, shone it around the closet, then saw a faint, square-shaped crack at the back. She remembered the trapdoor in the fireplace and wondered if this was another one.

Excited, she stepped to the back of the closet and began to press around the crack with her fingertips. Nothing happened.

Frowning, Niki stared at the door, then began to feel around the empty closet shelves. Her finger touched a small knob and she turned it. The back of the closet swung open, revealing another, larger closet.

Niki gasped in surprise.

This hidden closet was jammed with clothing—but clothing very different from the everyday clothes she had seen. At first she thought they might be very old clothes left by the people who had lived in the Cameron mansion before.

But when she took a few off the hangers, she saw that they were new, many of them with labels from expensive designers and famous department stores in New York, San Francisco, and Paris.

There were beautiful woolen suits, shiny satin cocktail dresses, colorful skirts and jackets in sophisticated styles that no one she knew would wear. A chrome rack on the floor held dozens of beautiful high-heeled shoes in every type of leather and every color of the rainbow.

The back of the closet revealed three beautiful full-length formal gowns and two fur coats, one mink and one fox.

Niki couldn’t believe her eyes. This was the most beautiful wardrobe she had ever seen. Were all these clothes Justine’s? But when would she wear them? And why were they hidden away like this?

Maybe, she decided, they were Justine’s mother’s clothes. But nobody really knew if Justine had a mother or not. Maybe there was another, older woman who lived here—Philip’s girlfriend or wife, maybe? But in that case, why did Justine have so few clothes of her own?

It’s a real mystery, Niki thought. She loved mysteries.

A small bureau stood against one side of the closet and Niki opened its drawers to reveal pastel negligees, nightgowns, and silk underwear. In the bottom drawer was a carefully wrapped package. She opened it, not even considering that someone might catch her snooping, and was shocked to see a framed photo of Justine and a man with their arms around each other, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes. But the man was much older—from the streaks of gray in his hair, at least forty.

Was Justine having an affair with an older man? Was that why she never went out with the boys from school or never went to any of the games?

Niki carefully put everything back just the way she had found it, then closed the secret door. She was about to leave Justine’s room when her eye caught the bathroom door.

She went in and, with only a small pang of conscience, opened the medicine chest. It was filled with typical medicine-cabinet things: toothpaste, mouthwash, several bottles of nail polish and other cosmetics, aspirin, and a box of Band-Aids.

There were three prescription bottles on the top shelf. Niki took them down one by one. She didn’t recognize the names of any of the medications, except a sleeping pill her mother sometimes used. But all three prescriptions were made out to “Enid Cameron.”

Enid? Niki thought. Who’s Enid? Philip’s wife?

But no matter how many explanations she considered, the one that kept popping into her mind was that Justine was somehow leading a double life.

During the day she went to school like any other teenager. But at night and on weekends she had a whole other life that no one else knew anything about.

But why? And why keep it all such a secret?

Maybe, Niki thought, she was just letting her imagination run away from her. Maybe there was a logical explanation for everything she had seen. She needed to talk to Terry, she realized. If anyone could figure this puzzle out, it was him.

Now all she had to do was find him, somewhere in the mansion.

Terry was really enjoying the treasure hunt. So far, in addition to the tarantula, he’d found three of the items on the list: a polished monkey skull that had been hidden inside a laundry hamper, a crystal ball, and his latest acquisition, an ivory pendant in the shape of a dagger.

He found the pendant when he had opened a cupboard and was scared out of his wits by what appeared to be a bloody, disembodied head—but turned out, on closer inspection, to be the head of a mannequin, covered with catsup.

After he had got over his fright, Terry found the pendant around the mannequin’s neck. He’d laughed and added it to the rest of his loot.

He heard a couple of other treasure hunters coming his way, then remembered that Justine had said her uncle Philip was preparing some surprises in the attic. He searched and found a narrow staircase leading upstairs.

Mounting the dark, creaky stairs to the attic, his heart thudded with anticipation and a little thrill of fear. What treasures would he find up there? What scares? This was definitely the best party he’d ever been to.

The attic was small and dusty, and filled with old boxes and trunks. Terry realized, from the thick layer of dust on the boxes and trunks, that they had been sealed up long ago.

He switched on the overhead light and spotted a closet door. A perfect place to hide items on the list, he thought.

Grinning to himself, Terry pulled open the door, then stopped and stared in shock.

“No! Oh, please—no!”

The room went white. Terry’s breath caught in his throat.

He gripped the closet door to hold himself up and stared into the shadowy cubicle.

“Alex? Alex?” he cried.

Hanging from a rope was the limp body of the Silver Prince, his neck bent at an impossible angle. Sticky red blood was splattered over the front of the beautiful costume. It puddled onto the closet floor.

Drip, drip, drip . . .