Half to Death

Part 1

K. Simpson

Notes: Several of the references go back to Several Devils, and this story may make more sense if you've read it. It may also make more sense if you've seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show...but not necessarily. • CPA stands for Certified Public Accountant, which is a professional designation.

CASSIE

I gave her every chance to get it right. I swear I did. I started dropping hints in the summer, and I know she heard them, because she always gave me that Look. But Devvy's stubborn. I may have mentioned that a few hundred times.

I just never expected her to get our anniversary wrong. Not after all my warnings. She knows I have access to her while she's asleep.

If you have to know the truth, I might be partly responsible for what happened, because I went along with her. The trick of handling Devvy is going along with her on little things; that gives me IOUs, and she's good about paying them. (Usually.) I figured this IOU would be good for months. Besides, I couldn't see the harm. Surely even Devvy would cough up some major romance in exchange; it was our anniversary, after all.

And she was kind of cute about it when she asked. For her, anyway.

DEV

Cassie likes to think she knows her way around me, so she thinks she can get whatever she wants out of me whenever she wants it.

She's right, and I really have to do something about that one of these days. But I did think I'd outwitted her on the anniversary thing.

I'd spent all summer ignoring hints and missing cues, which drove her crazy, which was the point, because of course I remembered. It's sort of hard to forget a Halloween party with giant green condoms, hooker wives, mob violence, and demons. You'd think she'd give me credit for that much.

Anyway, I knew she was expecting an anniversary. I also knew it had to be memorable. Preferably with a theme. The Halloween part was a given, so it was one short step from there to...

"You're kidding," she said.

"I'm not smiling."

"Neither am I." She wasn't, either. "You can't possibly be serious, so you have to be kidding. You are, aren't you?"

"No."

"Then I can't have heard you right. Say it again."

"Read my lips, then. Rocky Horror."

"Again. Louder."

I smiled, wondering how much farther it would be fun to wind her up. "It could be really interesting. Those midnight showings haven't lasted all these years for nothing."

"Halloween night's our anniversary, Devvy."

"Is it? Well, then, it'll fit."

The little blue fires were starting to burn in her eyes. "It can't fit. It's a movie about transvestites."

"Transvestites from outer space," I amended. "And Meat Loaf, too. You know, I kind of liked Bat Out of Hell, myself. That song about the dashboard light, anyw–"

"Don't try to change the subject. This is not a normal way to spend an anniversary."

"No. But that fits too. We don't have a normal relationship."

"Excuse me?"

"We got together on Halloween. We have demons. We have no illusions about each other."

She seemed to be insulted. "That's because you get all sarcastic about illusions. You say terrible things about Hallmark commercials, and then you sing 'Feelings.' Off-key. On purpose."

"Nobody likes that song." I paused, pretending to think. "You like 'Time Warp,' don't you? I'm pretty sure it's in the movie."

"Honey, I love you, but you're making me want to kill you."

"And you say I'm not romantic."

Advantage Kerry, and a winner deep in the backcourt. Satisfied, I let her sputter for a few seconds.

"Anyone can do candy and flowers, Cass. If you were an ordinary person, ordinary things might be enough for you. But you're not, and they're not. So let me do something extraordinary for you. Something Joe and Jane Six-Pack would never think to do, even if they could get a babysitter that late."

It grazed the line, but it was good. I went on.

"I know Rocky Horror's no Hallmark commercial, but neither are we. I'd rather do this with you than anything with anyone else, and I think you feel the same way. So try it my way. I'll even make you a deal: You do this for me, and I'll do something for you later."

I gave her two seconds to think about that before I finished her off.

"Besides, you'll look fantastic in one of those costumes."

She said she wasn't going to wear fishnet. I knew she would, though. I couldn't wait.

CASSIE

She doesn't need to know this, but it was kind of fun coming up with a costume. Troy and Heather helped behind Devvy's back when they were supposed to be working, and I think we got the details right. When I modeled it for them, anyway, Troy almost had a heart attack. Which is pretty good, because I think he's gay, or at least not 100 percent straight.

I'm not criticizing. I'm just saying. It's not like I can talk, being involved with Devvy the way I am.

And half the fun was knowing that she'd almost have a heart attack too.

"You'll like it," I told her.

"Will I, now?"

"You'd better."

I waited, but she didn't say anything.

"So what about your costume?" I asked.

"What about it?"

"Can I see it?"

"Sure you can. Halloween night."

"That's not fair."

"Then show me yours. Or quit dropping these big hints about it. You only want me to ask so you can say 'No' and make me crazy."

Dammit. "Can't you at least tell me what it is?"

"Extra."

"What?"

"I'm going as an extra. I'm thinking about calling myself Unspecified Ghoul No. 3. What do you think?"

"That is so cheating."

"Not everybody can be a star." She smiled the way that always got to me; I hated when she did that in the middle of an argument. "You're the star around here, Cass. We're going to walk in together, and it won't matter what my costume is, because I'm going to be invisible. They'll all be too busy looking at you to notice me. I'd be insulted, except that I understand."

"Is that sweet talk?" I asked, suspicious.

"Depends. Did it work?"

It was close enough for me. She didn't even argue when I dragged her upstairs.

DEV

It rained all Halloween day, but I like rain. I even liked that they were forecasting thunderstorms for that night. What could be better than thunder and lightning on Halloween?

Cassie thought otherwise; she made some dark remarks about going around with wet hair all night. The talk was only for show, though, because she had a very big umbrella, and I was perfectly willing to hold it for her. Better yet, I'd let her off in the front of the theater and park the car by myself. It could pass for a romantic anniversary-type gesture, even though it would really be just to shut her up about her hair.

Best of all, I had a surprise for her before the movie. If everything went according to plan, she'd be in too good a mood to worry about a little rain.

Everything did start off according to plan that night. Even the demons. While Cassie was changing into her costume–she kicked me out of the bedroom and made me change in the guest bath–they were making their own plans. I ran into them in the living room about fifteen minutes before Cass and I needed to leave.

"Interesting look," Monica said.

I turned, expecting the worst. She and Vanessa scrutinized me, I scrutinized them, and none of us seemed to approve.

"What are you two supposed to be?" I asked her.

"Accountants."

Well, most accountants didn't wear that much mascara, and they tended to button most of their shirt buttons, but I had to give the demons credit: They were close. They had the drab business suits down, along with the sensible shoes, the horn-rimmed glasses, and the briefcases. True, Vanessa didn't need to put that KISS ME, I'M A CPA sticker on her briefcase, but I suppose CPAs need love too.

"You're not very scary unless you're dead accountants," I said. "Want some help with the dead part?"

"You're not funny, Devlin," Vanessa said, flipping her hair. "But everybody knows that, so I won't dwell on it. Do you think I'm cute in this costume?"

Cassie was still locked in the bedroom upstairs, way out of earshot, but I still knew better than to answer.

Which Vanessa knew, too. She smiled triumphantly. "You're kind of cute in yours."

"Stop flirting," Monica snapped, "and let's get out of here. We're going to be late."

"Party in Hell?" I asked, to be polite.

Vanessa snorted. "Too cliché. We're corporate accountants. We're going to go scare some stockholders."

Too late for that, given the way the markets had gone all year, but I told them to have fun anyway.

Monica said she always did. Then she went up in flame. Vanessa started to follow but changed her mind about halfway.

"By the way, Devlin, it's your anniversary. You know that, don't you?"

"I've heard rumors. If you want to get really accurate, that would be Rumours, like the nightclub, but–"

"I said you're not funny." She pouted briefly. "What did you get her? Was it expensive?"

"She'll like it," I assured her. "Now go away and play accountant. Try not to get in any situations where you have to do math."

Vanessa said something to that, but Cassie called my name from the top of the stairs just then. She had on a bustier-and-not-much-else ensemble, and if Vanessa said anything else, I never heard.

CASSIE

The look on her face was worth it. I hate fishnet hose–they give you fishnet feet–but the costume didn't work without them, and like I said, her reaction was worth it.

She looked kind of cute as a Goth, too.

"I'm not a Goth," she said. "I'm Unspecified Ghoul No. 3. Remember?"

I started singing "My Ghoul" to her, but she didn't like that, so I kissed her instead. That worked most of the time. It worked then, too. We were a little late leaving the house.

"Are you planning on telling me where we're going?" I asked when we finally did leave.

"Out for a drive. We've got lots of time to kill before the movie."

"If you just wanted to kill time, we could've gone out to dinner."

"Dressed like this? In Greenville? I don't think so." She smiled. "Relax. I've got it covered."

"I don't know if I trust you."

"Only one way to find out."

DEV

It was a reasonably cool thing to do on a Halloween night, if I say so myself. We drove around for an hour or so, going through graveyards and past all the supposedly haunted houses in the county, and I told her all the ghost stories I knew, plus a few that I made up. Finally, I pulled in at an abandoned churchyard, parked the car, and got the picnic basket and lantern out of the trunk. Cassie spread the tablecloth over a flat stone, I set up the umbrellas, and we had a very fine picnic–and a whole bottle of wine–right there in the cemetery.

Cassie loved it.

And even though it was her idea to park afterward, I'd come prepared; I'd burned a CD that afternoon with nothing but "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" on it. All twenty tracks. "Paradise" might be overstating it a bit, but I have to say that it wasn't bad.

"Still don't trust me?" I asked her.

"Never in hell. But I really love you."

"Just checking," I said.

CASSIE

Devvy swears she isn't romantic, but if a picnic in the rain isn't romantic, I don't know what is. So what if it was in a cemetery? As for what happened after the picnic...

Well, yes, there was that Meat Loaf song, but she had Sade CDs in the car too. I rest my case.

So we were having a really good evening, and we were a little later getting started for the movie than we should've. She said she knew a shortcut to make up time.

Now, I'm not usually stupid. I know that nothing good ever happens when someone says, "I know a shortcut." But love makes you stupid, and I love Devvy a lot, so I didn't say anything.

Not then. I might have brought it up a few times later in the evening, but not then.

DEV

At least the storm held off until we were back on the road. That was the good part, because we'd been parked on an old grave–strictly by accident–and with all the rain that day, the ground was starting to cave. Cassie might forgive a lot of things, but falling into a grave on Halloween night probably wouldn't be one of them. I can't say that the idea appealed much to me either.

The bad part was that we were on a back road that I didn't know very well. We were never lost; I don't care what she says. But on a dark night, out in the country, in a downpour, anyone could get a little confused.

Cassie was still in a good mood, singing along with the radio, so I decided not to mention it. Anyway, I was sure that the next left would take us back to the highway.

Only trouble was that there was no next left. The road started winding, and after we'd followed it through a heavy thicket for a mile or so, it dead-ended.

"Nice shortcut, honey," she said.

I would deal with her about that later. At the moment, I just needed to get the car turned around so we could go back the way we came. I did know the long way back to the highway from the cemetery.

So I got us turned around and started back. We'd gone maybe a hundred feet when lightning struck the thicket, and a big dead branch fell directly in our path. Good thing my reflexes still worked. I stood on the brake, and the car skidded to a stop with inches to spare.

Cassie let out a breath she'd probably been holding since the branch fell. "God."

"Or at least the Pope," I agreed.

It was a long way from dazzling wit, but it got her to laugh, which was all I'd wanted. Reassured that she was all right, I tried to back the car a few feet. If we could get some clearance, we could get out, move the branch ourselves, and go on our way.

I might've backed one foot too many. We felt a bump, and then we heard a pffffffffffft.

"This isn't funny," she said.

CASSIE

It really wasn't funny. That was just how Rocky Horror started.

"If this is your idea of a setup," I said, "forget it. I'm not playing along anymore."

She said it wasn't a setup, goddammit, and told me to get the flashlight out of the glove compartment. Then she got out to have a look. She was only gone for a minute, but she was soaking wet when she came back.

"Flat tire. I've never changed one before. Have you?"

Even if I had, which I hadn't, I was a little underdressed to be changing a flat tire in the rain. I pointed that out to her, and she gave me another Look.

"Oh, all right, never mind," I told her. "We'll call AAA. Have you got your cell?"

She had it in her raincoat pocket. All that water must not have done the phone any good, though, because she couldn't get it to turn on. I don't know what she was thinking, taking a cell phone out in a storm, but I could deal with her about it later.

"Good thing I've got my phone," I said.

DEV

We have a difference of opinion on this part. I say she forgot to charge her phone before we left because she was in such a rush to show off her costume. She says I must've pushed the on button somehow while we were parked–she had the phone on her person–and the battery ran down. But it doesn't matter. The outcome was the same: We were stranded miles from anywhere with a flat tire and no phone.

"Now what, Sherlock?" she asked.

"Sarcasm won't help."

"Oh, I don't know. It might cheer me up. That would help."

"Save it for later, Cass. We've got to think."

She thought, or pretended to. "We could build a signal fire."

"It's raining."

"Or stomp 'SOS' in a cornfield."

"You've seen too many movies."

"I like movies." She paused for effect. "Well, I did like them up until about two minutes ago. We wouldn't be in this mess right now if it weren't for movies, would we?"

Something she'd said a few weeks before–"apology jewelry"–flashed through my mind. All right, then. Fine. I'd go blow my credit limit first thing in the morning. But that would be possible only if we got out of here tonight, and getting out would be possible only if we worked together. So I smiled at her.

Which unnerved her into silence and gave me a little time to think.

"You stay here," I finally said. "I thought I saw lights a mile or so back. I'll use their phone to call AAA."

"What? And leave me here by myself?"

"I'm already wet. No point in both of us getting out in this. Besides, you can't walk in those shoes."

"Can, and do all the time, and you know it."

"Not on a country road. Not in the dark."

She eyed me narrowly. "Not in this outfit, you mean."

Well, there was that, too. "You don't know what we'll find at that house. Anyone could be living there. You don't want to go exposing your charms to just anyone, do you?" Quickly, I added, "Your physical charms, I mean. You have many, many ch–"

"Drop it, Devvy. And don't argue with me. I'm going with you."

It was her Non-Negotiable tone, so I gave up. "Don't expect me to try to carry you when you break a heel."

"Now who's not being romantic?" she asked coolly.

Dammit.

CASSIE

We found the house with no trouble; it was closer than Devvy said she remembered, but whatever. It was odd that I hadn't noticed it myself, because it was really big and all lighted up.

"Looks nice," I said.

She didn't answer. I suppose that's because she was too busy sulking about the umbrella. We'd left my big one at the cemetery by mistake, and all we had was her little one. I wanted to share it with her, or at least take turns, but she wouldn't. She picks the worst times to get all self-sacrificing. I just knew she'd catch a cold and maybe die, and she'd do it just to spite me about making her forget the umbrella.

Well, sue me for putting her in the mood to park.

I tried again. "Looks like they're having a party. Wouldn't it be fun if somebody was dressed up like Tim Curry?"

"Frank N. Furter," she growled.

"That's what I meant."

"Tim Curry's the actor. Frank N. Furter's the role. Don't confuse them."

Maybe it would be better if we didn't talk. I went on ahead of her to the front door and rang the bell.

Devvy was still back in the dark, too far away to see, but I swear the door opened all by itself.

Concludes in Part 2

(c) 2002

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***

Half to Death

Part 2

K. Simpson

Notes: A few things in this chapter are borrowed from Shirley Jackson's classic The Haunting of Hill House. • The New Orleans reference goes back to That Voodoo That You Do. • I've lived in two haunted houses (seriously), and Dev's tactic really works. Moving, however, works better.

DEV

Cassie jumped back off the porch like she'd been hit by a flying porcupine, and in the process, she almost broke one of her heels. I told her those shoes weren't for actual use.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Aren't they home?"

She said she didn't know; that was the problem.

"There's no such thing as spontaneous door-opening, Cass. Spontaneous combustion, sure. It's controversial, especially when it happens to people, but physics is a peculiar—"

"The door's open. Nobody's there. You explain it."

"Maybe later. Let's just get in out of the rain right now."

She got behind me and held on. "You first."

Me first? That would be novel. I loved her, but I had no illusions about my rank in this organization. Oh, well, I liked the high-maintenance type; God knew I wasn't maintenance-free myself. So I bit my tongue and walked into the house, towing Cassie.

She got mad when I stopped short and made her crash into me, but she understood a second later.

CASSIE

I wasn't at my best right then, you know. I was wet, I was cold, my raincoat was leaking, I'd almost broken a heel, and Devvy was in one of her sarcastic moods. But I wasn't crazy, and even if I had been, she saw it too. Someone had written it in big red letters right over the stair landing:

"Oh, my God—they misspelled my name!" I said.

Well, it was the first thing that popped into my head. Devvy practically tore me off her and said some really bad words.

"It's kind of hard to miss," I told her. "Look how big it is."

"It's not a spelling issue."

"Maybe it's the handwriting, then. It's pretty bad."

I was just making a joke to try to break the ice; she was getting really tense, and I hate when that happens. But she didn't seem to appreciate it.

"Calm down, honey," I said.

"Don't patronize me. I didn't tell you to calm down when you thought the door opened all by itself."

"That was different."

Her voice went up at least an octave. "How? We walk into a strange house and see our names written on the wall, and that's different?"

"Well, think about it. They obviously know us. So it's obviously some kind of practical joke." When that didn't help, I added, "A demon practical joke. We've got demons, remember?"

She said it wasn't the kind of thing demons ever let you forget—and a few other snappish things—but she did relax a little.

"They're having some fun with us, sweetie. I bet it's their idea of a Halloween joke. I don't think demons go trick-or-treating, but I guess they have to do something."

That finally got a smile out of her. "You might be right. You'd think they'd have done enough by now. I can't speak for Vanessa, but Monica doesn't know the meaning of 'enough.'"

"Or 'drop dead,'" I said.

"I don't think she can. But hold that thought until we see what else happens." She was standing there dripping; there was a big pool of water around her feet by now. I really hoped lightning wouldn't happen. "Let's go find the phone."

"Would you mind holding my hand?"

She laughed. "After what we just did in the cemetery, I don't think it's against my principles. But why? Are you scared?"

"Yes," I lied.

OK, maybe it wasn't a total lie. The house was really creepy-looking on the inside—at least, the front room was—and the storm wasn't helping. All the lights were on, but it still felt dark. Like a haunted house. I would've sworn I'd seen this place in a movie.

But Devvy would act brave if she thought I was scared, just to be nice, and it wouldn't hurt for one of us to keep a cool head.

DEV

There was no reason to tell Cassie, because I didn't want to worry her, but I didn't like this house. I wasn't happy about the writing on the wall, either, but the real problem was the house itself.

Let me put this on the record: I don't read Stephen King. Not anymore. One of my uncles said, "He puts strange pictures in your head," and he's right, because I've got Salem's Lot in mine. To this day, I try not to look out windows at night so I won't see the baby vampires looking back in.

All right, it's stupid; I know that. But you get a stupid scary thing stuck in your head and see how you like it.

That's all beside the point, though. It wasn't Stephen King's fault that I got bad vibes off this house, because the house was bad. And the badness didn't seem to have anything to do with Monica and Vanessa; on this scale, it wasn't their style. Even on a purely human level, something wasn't right. Who would leave all the lights on and the door unlocked if nobody was home?

But Cassie was already scared, so I kept my concerns to myself. There had to be a phone somewhere; as soon as we found it, we'd call a wrecker and clear out. Two minutes tops, if AAA picked up right away and I talked fast.

"I don't see a phone out here," Cassie said. "What do you think? Kitchen?"

Sure; why not? After that, we could try the dungeon. This place looked like it had one. Or dozens. But I kept that to myself, too.

CASSIE

She tried to be brave; she really did. But I could tell Devvy was spooked. She was just about the color of chalk, and it wasn't the Goth makeup, because that had washed off in the rain. Her hand was cold, too.

Now that I think of it, so was the house. We'd just gone down the hall toward where we figured the kitchen was, and in one place, it was like walking through ice. Also, the hall was pitch-dark. I closed my eyes and just let Devvy pull me along.

"Are we there yet?" I asked, squeezing her hand.

She answered—from a long way away. I opened my eyes, and I was standing in the kitchen.

Devvy was standing all the way across it.

I might have screamed a tiny little bit. She came running.

"It's OK. It's OK. I've got you. What's wrong?"

I told her. She didn't believe me at first.

"You can't have been holding my hand, Cass. I let go a couple of minutes ago."

"Then whose hand was I holding?"

It was a reasonable question, if you ask me. But she went all chalky again.

DEV

I'd read this book.

And if I heard singing, or if we found a tower room with a spiral staircase, we were out of here.

"Devvy? What's the matter?"

"Hill House."

"Your voice sounds funny. I can't understand you. What did you say?"

Calm. I had to stay calm. I couldn't go losing my head just because I wanted to. "Nothing. Clearing my throat. Do you see a phone yet?"

"No. Do you?"

"No."

"Maybe they don't have one downstairs. I guess we'll have to try upstairs."

Was she out of her mind? "Do you want to try upstairs?"

She considered. "No."

"Good answer," I said.

We stood there in silence for a minute, thinking things over. Then, by reflex, I checked my watch. (At least the watch was waterproof.) It was half-past 11; we were going to miss the movie now for sure.

"Forget the movie," Cassie said, reading my mind. "I just want to go home."

So did I. For lack of a more constructive idea, I gave her a hug. It was fine with me that she felt like holding on for a while.

CASSIE

All this time, it was storming outside, and I've already said that didn't help. Getting a hug did, though. After a while, I finally cranked up the nerve to think about going back down that hall. We'd have to go through it to get to the front door—there was no other way in or out of the kitchen—and the front door looked like the only way out of the house.

What we'd do after that, I didn't know. But it had to be safer outside than it was in here.

So I grabbed both of her hands, to make sure I didn't lose her this time, and we left the way we came. We had to walk through that cold spot again, but Devvy didn't say anything about it. She had more clothes on than I did, though, so maybe it was just me.

We made it back to the front room alive. And then we saw the phone. I swear it wasn't there before, because you couldn't miss it; it was one of those great big old-fashioned crank-type jobs.

"Nerves," she said when I mentioned it.

I smiled a little. It had been a while since I'd felt like it. "If that's your story, fine."

"It's our story. Now come here and help me suss this thing out."

I don't think it's bragging to say that we're both pretty smart, but we're not very techie. Between the two of us, it took about ten minutes to figure out how to work the phone, and then it took a few more to get Devvy's AAA card with the phone number on it. The rain had gotten into her shoulder bag and soaked her billfold, so the card was stuck in a slot. You can't really work with wet leather.

Well, there was that time in New Orleans, but that was different too.

Finally, we got the card and the dial tone. We were pretty much set. Except for one thing.

"Honey?" I asked.

"Hmmm?"

"How do we tell AAA where the car is?"

She slammed the receiver back down on the hook, put her head against the wall, and started banging it. That usually upsets me, but this time, I understood.

I was just about to make her stop when we heard a clock start striking midnight. Then we heard this awful scream from the top of the stairs—the kind they mean when they say a scream is "blood-curdling," only worse, because nobody was standing there.

And then the lights went out.

I might have screamed myself again. Just a little.

DEV

People are brave in places. Some people want you to think that they're the exception—that they're not afraid of anything—but if you look for fear in them, you'll always find it. Conversely, even the biggest cowards can rise to big occasions.

I'm no exception. I'll admit to not liking spiders, and I have an ambivalent relationship with mice, but I still have those brave places. For some reason, mine are hidden under the great-big-chicken ones. You can scare me, but only to a certain point.

That house had finally scared me to that point. Either that, or I'd finally lost my temper. Either way amounts to the same thing: I was mad as hell.

So I walked into the middle of the room, faced the stairs, and yelled one word.

"NO!"

The lights came back on.

And the damnedest thing happened: We were standing in an ordinary living room in an ordinary farmhouse, and an ordinary-looking older couple were staring at me as though I'd snapped.

CASSIE

I don't have an explanation for any of it. Those nice people said we'd just walked in, soaking wet from the rain, and asked to use the phone. You could tell they were a little nervous about it, the way we were dressed, but they couldn't really see my costume under my raincoat. And when I told them we'd been on our way to a Halloween party, they relaxed right away.

About me, anyway. I think they were still a little scared of Devvy.

So we called AAA, and eventually, we got home. The witches were waiting up for us. I let Devvy handle them. When she came up to bed, she said they denied everything.

"And you believe them?" I asked.

"They were really mad that they didn't think of it themselves. Monica especially."

"She was mad?"

"It wasn't pretty. Why?"

"If it made her mad," I said, "it was worth it."

Devvy smiled. "Was it?"

"Some parts more than others." I scooted a little closer to her. "I really liked the part in the cemetery."

"Did you, now?"

"Not just that part. Most of it scared me half to death. But that's OK, because I love you half to death."

Both her eyebrows went up. "Only half?"

"If I loved you to death, you'd die. And then you'd be off the hook for our next anniversary."

She laughed and kissed me. There are a few things that Devvy gets right.

(c) 2002

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