Fear: 13 Stories of Suspense and Horror (3 page)

Maria stared at him silently, her hair falling over her face. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving up and down. “JJ—no.” Her voice a faint whisper.

“Please don't kill us,” Sammy said again. “We'll be your friends. Really.”

JJ laughed. He lowered the pistol to his side. “Guess your initiation is over. You made it.”

Sammy and Eduardo froze. Their eyes bulged, studying JJ. Maria hugged herself tightly, her whole body shuddering.

“Initiation?” Sammy finally choked out.

JJ nodded. “Yeah. If you want to hang with me, you have to pass
my
initiation. Bony and I cooked it up.” He spun the pistol on his thumb. “All blanks. Nothing but blanks.” He chuckled again. “That got a little tense, huh?”

The other three still weren't taking it in. You could almost see the thoughts whirring in their heads.

“You punked
us
?” Eduardo said finally.

JJ nodded. “Bony and I. It was kinda his idea.”

“You didn't kill Florian?” Maria asked, brushing her damp hair off her forehead. “That was a lie?”

“A lie,” JJ said. “All a joke. I should be an actor or something, right? I was pretty good.”

“You're both creeps!” Maria shouted. “You scared us to death!”

“Is the initiation over?” Eduardo asked. His gaze was on the pistol in JJ's hand.

“Yeah. It's over,” JJ said. “Friends for life, right?” He turned to Bony, still on his stomach on the grass. “Get up, man. We're done. It's a done deal. We punked these dudes. They're still shaking.”

Bony didn't move. His hands were tucked beneath him, still gripping his stomach. His face was down in the dirt.

JJ gave him a gentle kick in the side. “Come on, Bony. Stop clowning. Get up, man. Let's get out of here.”

Bony didn't move.

JJ gave him another soft kick with the toe of his boot.

Bony's body bounced once, then settled back in place.

“Bony, no! No! Bony?” Maria began to scream.

JJ dropped to his knees. He grabbed Bony's jacket and flipped him onto his back. Bony's hands fell limply away from his body. A lopsided puddle of dark blood stained the front of his T-shirt.

“Bony—no! No! Bony—no!”

Bony's eyes gazed blankly at the sky, glassy and unblinking.

“What happened?” JJ wailed in a high, shrill voice. “They were blanks. They were all blanks. What happened?”

“Y-you
killed
him!” Sammy whispered. “You shot Bony in the stomach!”

A hoarse cry escaped JJ's throat. “No. I couldn't. They were blanks. I know they were. All blanks. Bony and I cooked it up. It was a joke!”

Shaking his head, JJ began murmuring to himself in a panic. “Oh, wow. Oh, wow. Bony dead? I killed Bony? It couldn't happen. It couldn't. Oh, wow. Oh, wow.”

Bony laughed. He blinked a few times and sat up with a grin on his face. He slapped JJ's arm. “Gotcha, dude. That was
your
initiation!”

JJ made a choking sound. The others burst out laughing.

Sammy helped Bony to his feet. “Good one, dude.”

JJ stood up on shaky legs and narrowed his eyes at them. “You were all in on it? From beginning to end? You all knew about this . . . this joke?”

Maria wiped tears from her eyes. This time, they were tears of laughter. The others slapped knuckles, tossed their heads back, and howled at the moon.

“They were all in on it, dude,” Bony told him. “Don't you get it? It wasn't their initiation. It was
your
initiation!”

“You were punked, JJ!” Eduardo cried.

“You should have seen the look on your face!”

They howled some more. Bony hugged Maria around the waist. Sammy and Eduardo did a wild victory dance around the tree.

They stopped when they saw someone running toward them. Her hair flew wildly behind her head, and the wind lifted her coat as she stumbled over the wet grass.

JJ recognized her immediately. “Julie!” He turned to the others. “The waitress from the restaurant.”

He took a few steps toward her. She stopped, hands balled into tense fists. She took a few deep breaths.

“Julie—how did you find me? What's up?”

“You won't believe this, JJ,” Julie said, her jaw clenched, eyes wide. “Florian is dead.”

JJ heard Maria gasp.

“Someone shot him in the head,” Julie said. “They found him in the parking lot. He's dead. Someone
killed
him!” Her body shuddered. She wrapped her arms around herself.

Bony stepped up to JJ and grabbed him by the shirt collar. “This is another joke, right?” His eyes burned into JJ's. “The waitress is in on it, right? This is another initiation joke?”

JJ stared back at Bony and smiled.

▼ HEATHER GRAHAM ▼

 

 

 

 

 

I
t was Halloween.

And what a Halloween.

You have to understand, I really,
really
, love Halloween.

Such a perfect night was truly rare. The weather was balmy, almost warm, but kissed with a cool breeze. The sky had been crystal clear all day, blue, beautifully blue.

And a full moon was about to rise high. It had begun its ascent already. Soon, it would be luminous across a black velvet heaven. I mean, conditions could not have been more perfect.

I was dressed like a football player, and it was the perfect costume for me, honestly. Not to sound too cocky, but I can pull off a jock pretty well. I have the old all-American, farm-raised, blue-eyed, wheaten-haired boy-next-door appeal; I'm pretty tall—six three—and I have broad shoulders before adding the pads in. I looked like the real deal. All-American, the boy-next-door. Funny. I was anything but.

 

 

She
happened to be at the service bar just as I was, and since I'd seen her around before, I knew her to be usually shy and mild-mannered. She hung with a crowd that was kind of on the edge—close to, but not quite in with—the elite. The kind always hoping to get in. To get closer to those of us who glowed with the esteem and admiration we received from others. Knowing
me
would be a notch in her belt. She might be willing to do just about anything for the privilege of saying that we were . . .
friends.
That she had been with me, on Halloween night.

Perfect.

She was just perfect.

I'd been watching her, you see. I'd been contemplating this night. Then, tonight, I'd been watching again. Making sure she'd come alone, and was trying to fit in. Tonight, here, I'd been watching again with patience, knowing that I was stalking her, but keeping in mind as well that I needed to find the perfect
date
, to make sure that it was her.

The perfect date.

Someone who drew little notice.

Someone not easily missed.

And that
was
her. Usually
.

This Halloween, though, it seemed she was playing against type.

And it worked for her. No more dowdy little school-girl, bordering on the nerdy. I was pleasantly surprised by her wickedly erotic appeal. The good girl, all dressed up as if she were bad.

Like I said, I'd seen her around before, I
stalked
her. She always had an armload of books. She usually wore glasses, and they were often slipping down her nose. She was the studious type.
A mouse.
She kind of hunched forward when she walked, hugging those books of hers. She was a good girl who had left home and gone on to college to do the folks proud. I always thought she must have come off a farm. You'd think
nerd
, and you'd be right. But I have to admit, though I hadn't given it much thought before, there had always been something appealing about her. Something delicious in the scent of her. And tonight . . . well, she had almost pitch-black hair to begin with. Long and straight. And she had the kind of hazel eyes that— with the contact lenses she was wearing—really took on an honest-to-God, snakelike, vampire appearance. Very cool. She was wearing a dress that might have done Morticia or Vampira proud; it hugged her body, her every curve. It was as if she were breaking out of some kind of shell, and a better man than I might have been hard-pressed to resist. Who had ever imagined the figure beneath those books, beneath the gawky stance? And yet she was still . . . well, the same girl. The same girl who needed me.

And, as I already admitted, I had been watching. Eyeing her. Not quite imagining this, but planning out my moves, you might say.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” she replied, just a little startled that I had talked to her.

“Great costume,” I said.

“You too.”

“It's just a football thing,” I said.

Her lips curled in a smile. “One would think you might have dressed up like a wolf,” she said.

Ouch. So she did have a sense of humor.

“Who'd have thought
you
'd be the sexy undead?” I whispered, my tone very flattering.

“Oh, well. Life
can
be pretense and dress-up,” she said. She sounded breathless. In fact, it was great. She almost looked as if she were going to swoon.

“Need some air?” I asked her.

She looked at me, surprised once again. I think she might have blushed—hard to tell in that makeup she was wearing. Fake lashes? Or were those her own, touched with mascara?

This was like a fascinating miracle. She was actually stunning tonight. Seductive and clever. Witty. And the way she looked in the tight getup, I hadn't been lying. She was sexy. Sensuous. Hot.

She looked downward for a moment and I knew she was thinking quickly. Maybe her heart was even fluttering. After all, I was one of the most popular kids in school. Okay, I admit—I come from a lot of money. I drive a cool car. But the rest, I'd done on my own. I have a certain amount of charm and pure
animal
appeal. She was thinking,
Wow, me! Vince Romero has singled
me
out of the crowd!

Okay, I think I've admitted, I might be a little on the cocky side, too.

She looked up at me. “Air,” she said simply.

“Yeah, it's getting stuffy in here,” I said with a shrug. “Shall we slip away?” I was my most seductive self. I'd never quite imagined it like this. That I'd be more than playing, teasing. But I wasn't jarred or thrown off. I was simply enjoying.

She stared at me for a moment. I almost smiled. She looked the part, but she wasn't quite there. She was like a deer caught in headlights. She seemed to tremble. Then she nodded. Just as if she'd been hypnotized.

“Um, you did come alone?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Such a sweet, throaty note in her voice. “And . . . you? You came alone?” she asked.

Okay, so I usually had a blonde with size quadruple-D bazoongas on my arm.

I smiled. “I've been waiting for you all night. I've watched you, you know.”

“Oh,” she breathed, staring at me. “Really?”

“Really,” I assured her.

She flushed with pleasure and looked away for a moment. “You know,” she admitted, “I've been watching you, too.”

“Really?” I countered.

“Really,” she said. “I guess . . . well, I guess you didn't notice. People are watching you all the time.”

I shrugged, but smiled, and placed my hand at the small of her back.

We slipped out the back door. I was careful. No one saw us.

“Hey, my car is right over there. And I have a six-pack in a cooler in the back,” I told her. I had noticed that she was carrying a draft beer.

She looked up at me. Those eyes of hers were wicked tonight. “I'm sure you do,” she said.

“Be prepared,” I said. “That's my motto.”

She laughed again. The sound was throaty. Sexy. Wow. It was going to be a good night. Oh, yes. Halloween. A full moon. This little wishy-washy girl suddenly looking like a
Cosmo
girl. It was all right. And she just had no idea.

I felt my blood heating up. This was going to be an easy conquest. Easier than I had imagined.

I slipped an arm around her shoulders as we walked to the car. There was a full moon out. Cool. Too cool. You didn't get a full moon on Halloween all that often.

We reached the car.

“Want to drive?” I asked her.

“Sure.” She sounded a little breathless.

It was such a great pickup. Everyone wanted to drive my car. It was a jazzed-up sports car, an Audi with a few custom alterations. Friends drooled to have my car. And she was getting to drive it.

I opened the driver-side door for her, and she slid in. I bounded around to the passenger's seat and hopped in beside her. She was running her fingers over the leather seat. “Nice,” she told me.

“Thanks. Ivanna Romanoff,” I said, rolling her name pleasantly on my tongue. “Pretty name.”

“I'm glad you like it,” she told me. I was a little surprised. After the first sign of shock she'd shown, she'd begun gaining some confidence. Maybe she knew that she was nerdy, but—now that she was in the proper attire—dynamite-looking and totally alluring without her hunch-over-her-books and down-on-the-nose glasses.

“Russian?” I asked her.

She waved a hand in the air. “Oh, well, I guess my ancestors were from Eastern Europe, somewhere. Vince Romero. Spanish? Italian?”

I smiled. “Eastern European, too,” I said. “But, hey, maybe that means we're meant for each other, huh? Romero—Romanoff. Not that far off.”