Henrietta’s first hint that the other teens in the graveyard aren’t part of her campaign is the screaming. She’s not totally experienced when it comes to LARPing, but she’s been in enough of them to know how fake screams are supposed to sound.
The high pitched, nails-on-a-chalkboard squeals combined with the throat-ripping bellows of panic? Yeah, not fake.
Her second hint is what they’re screaming.
“We didn’t finish the incantation–”
“–circle isn’t done–”
“Salt! Salt! SALT FOR YOUR LIVES!”
Henrietta’s been waiting for the Orc Barbarian to throw foam rocks at her all night, so it’s more instinct than actual thought that has her combat-rolling behind the nearest grave. It must look a lot like disappearing in the flickering candles they’re holding, because the screams intensify.
“Quick, maybe if you finish the incantation, it’ll still be bound–”
“Salt, salt, saLT, SALT–”
Henrietta hears a mumbled mess of latin underneath all the screaming. She presses her back to the tombstone she’s cowering behind as the Latin cuts off. Dread sinks into her stomach as a mysterious fog rolls in and the smell of brimstone fills the air.
Oh, Henrietta thinks, peeking over the edge of the grave marker, oh no.
The cult is still in various stages of panic, but they’re no longer alone. Henrietta might have said what she’s seeing is impossible (because it IS, her brain screams), but she can’t deny that there is a woman standing in the middle of the candlelight where there previously had not been a woman.
“Did you,” the woman asks, voice rumbling, “really just summon me without a finished circle?” She pokes a black-heeled foot out over the spray-paint on the grass and looks incredulous when nothing happens. “Seriously?”
“But–” one teen in a long, black cloak says. He looks from the woman to where Henrietta last was. “But you–there was–” He spots Henrietta’s plastic horns, peeking over the edge of the grave. “There! There’s another one!”
Henrietta doesn’t have time to duck when the woman–the demon–turns. She’s got red skin, a black dress, and is dragging a long length of chain behind her. It’s shockingly similar to what Henrietta is wearing, to be honest, and if she wasn’t scared out of her mind right now, she’d be impressed with the authenticity of her costume.
The demoness grins, showing off quite a lot of pointy teeth. She crooks a finger to Henrietta, eyebrow raising. “Another…demon? Was it?”
“I,” Henrietta says, trying to stay in character, “was just–just in the neighborhood.” She stands, trying to mimic the way the demoness is standing, hip-cocked and lips pouting. “You know…so close to–to Halloween…”
“Of course, little sister,” the demoness purrs. She taps her chin. “Normally, I would flay your skin from your bones for interfering in one of my summons, but it is rather nice to not be bound…I’ll give you a pass. For Halloween.”
Henrietta very, very firmly doesn’t pay attention to the horrified whimpering that’s coming from the cult members behind the demoness. “For Halloween.” She takes a slow step back. “I’ll just leave you to–to that, then.”
“Please do,” the demoness purrs. She flicks a hand. “Off you run, little sister.”
Henrietta doesn’t need to be told twice. She takes off through the grass, her heels nearly sending her to the ground more than once. The demoness laughs and that, more than anything, keeps her going.
She meets her LARPing group at the gates to the cemetery.
“DEMON!” the orc barbarian shouts and Henrietta doesn’t have the energy to dodge the foam balls. Sally deflates. “Aw, I already killed you.”
“What’s all that screaming?” Akira asks Henrietta. He peers around her shoulder, trying to see into the heart of the cemetery. “Is that…fire?”
“Halloween ambiance,” Henrietta says. “Crazies. We gotta go.” She pushes at their shoulders.
“Damn,” Akira says, shaking his head. “Some people get too into that. Fire in a cemetery? They’re just asking to get the cops called on them.”
Henrietta finds that unreasonably funny and won’t tell either of them why until the sun is up.
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