1

"Hey, Andy, I havent seen you in a while," Marc stated lamely as he sat down and laid his back against the wet stone. He closed his eyes and picked at a clump of weeds around the angel statue. Lightning lit up the sky, and the churchs clock struck midnight, chiming twelve long tolls that shook the earth beneath Marc Terenzi.

"Looks like its going to storm tonight." Ben sat down by his shorter friend. He laid a handful of roses down on the ground by him. "Here, Andy. These werent meant for you, but she said we were through."

Marc smiled at Ben. "Can you believe it? Two years ago today, we would have been here for a different reason."

Ben laughed under his breath, remembering it all like it was yesterday. "Man, we were so young and stupid," he said as he wiped his nose off, "but I guess thats why it was so good."

"Sixteen and not a care in the world."

"If it wasnt for the accident, wed still be doing those seyonces and knocking over headstones."

"Bledsoe, when youre right, youre right. Except Id probably be in prison about now cause I always liked to stick around and see the polices faces. God, it was a riot." Marc stretched his arms.

Someone came up from behind the guys, but neither of them flinched. "Mike, why do you creep around like that?" asked Ben.

"It didnt scare us just now, it never did, and probably never will," Marc added.

"I dont mean to creep; thats just how I get around." He looked down at his companions on the ground. "Ive brought someone."

"Not another girl...They dont care about Andy," answered Ben.

Marc rolled his eyes. "I wish youd stop using his death as a way to pick up chicks."

"No, no...You guys got it all wrong. Patricks here." Michael searched around the graveyard until he found where Patrick King, his best friend, was wandering around aimlessly.

"God, you brought him!" Marc scolded.

"What?" asked Michael like he hadnt done anything wrong.

Ben stood up and grabbed Michaels shirt neck. "Does he even know why youre here?" he hissed.

"No, but I dont see-"

"Dont see what? Patrick shouldnt be here." Marc rose up by Ben. "Youre gonna put him back in the hospital." Marc looked up to see Patrick staring up at the sky.

"He shouldnt be here," Ben growled.

"But the docs all said he was cured," Michael defended. "I think its time he realizes the truth and meets his cousin." Michael shoved Ben off of him.

"Meets his cousin? He cant meet a corpse, you idiot!" Marc smacked Michael on the back of the head. "Hed go into some serious relapse. Do you want him slitting again?"

"No...But hes here! What do I do with him?"

Ben looked around and thought. "Call Horn to come and get him. Hes a nice, quiet boy. Probably studying at home right now. You know, finals are in a week."

"You messed up big time, Johnson, and now youre gonna fix it." Marc poked Michael with a cell phone. "Get to calling. Ben and I will watch Pat."

***

Ten minutes later, a blue, expensive Mercedes pulled up into the parking lot of the cemetery. Rain had started to pour, and fog had creeped over the ground, weaving in and out of the graves. J looked around from the safety of his car, but no one was in sight. He checked the time and reluctantly stepped out of the car.

He peered through the iron gates, memories growing. "I said Id never go back in there, not after the funeral. But I promised I would get Patrick. A promise is a promise," J said to himself.

J pushed the one of the gates open and journeyed into the land of death. He could hear voices somewhere; they echoed off of the stones. Other than that the air was silent except for the occasional boom of thunder and the light pattering of rain on the grass. A light flickered in the distance underneath a large angel statue missing a chunk off one of the wings.

J found the four guys sitting between the legs of the figure, huddled around a crimson candle, the dripping wax so dark that it looked black. The flame sat content; the wind wasnt blowing tonight. "Hey," J greeted, staring into the flame. "I never thought wed all come back for a reunion."

"Yeah, I guess in a way, were all here. Me, Ben, Michael, Patrick, you, and," Marc whispered the last name, "Andy." He pointed at the grave a few feet from the group.

"Dont mention the A-word around P-A-T-R-I-C-K," Ben whispered while pointing at the dazed blonde, his hand covered by the other one just in case Patrick glanced over.

"He-he!"

"What was that?" asked Michael.

"What was what?" Marc questioned because he hadnt heard anything.

"Its probably just another one of Michaels stupid tricks,"Ben answered as he pulled on a string on his shirt, dismissing the idea. "Ignore him."

"He-he!"

"There it is again! It sounded like someone was laughing at us!"

"Quit playing games,"said J, tucking a hand in his pocket. "Why dont you grow up? Were seniors, not kindergartners."

"He-he!"

"Guys, Im not making this up, and I definitely aint hearing things. Someone is laughing."

"Hes right. I heard it too," answered Patrick. Those were the first words he had said since he had been taken to the graveyard.

"Well, what was it?" asked Marc.

"He-he!"

"A girl!" yelled Patrick. "Id recognize one of their giggles anywhere."

"Where is she?" asked Ben, looking around from his place on the ground. "And what is she doing spying on us?" He stared up at the arms of the angel statue, but nothing was there.

All of the guys looked for the source of the annoying giggle. It laughed at them three more times before they heard something hit the ground and footsteps fleeing from the scene. Michael looked through the thick sheet of rain and night to see a brightly-dressed figure duck behind a headstone. He signaled to the other guys to follow and not make a sound.

They crept up around the stone, ready to attack the thing on the other side. A girl with dyed-blonde hair popped up, looked at them, giggled, and yelled, "Boys!"

"Hey, Im a man, not a boy!" J corrected.

Marc leaned over and whispered to Ben, "Sure he is. If hes a man, then Im an it."

"Nice to meet you, Michael Jackson."

The girl looked for an opening in the circle of guys, but she couldnt find one, so she decided to plow through the weakest. The boy who had said he was a man was quite a bit shorter than his companions, so he was the best bet. She plowed over him and ran.

"Get her!" yelled Michael. He ran ahead of the others, his athletic ability showing. He leapt on the girl and grabbed her hot pink legs. Michael scrambled on top of the girl and pinned her arms to the ground.

She kicked and screamed, but his massiveness held her down. Michael smiled at the guys and bragged, "Gold medal middle-weight wrestling champion."

"Who are you?" asked Ben.

The girl stopped squirming long enough to spit in her attackers face.

"Why were you spying on us?" added Marc.

Patrick pushed Michael off the girl and helped her to her feet. He took her in his arms and stroked her wavy hair. "You okay?"

"Oh yeah, those are some poetic words to sweep her off her feet,"Ben whispered critisizingly.

Marc rubbed his chin like he was thinking real deep. "A real Shakespeare," he mumbled sarcastically.

The girl stared wide-eyed up at the man who had rescued her from the brutish barbarian. "You dont know how long its been," she answered, emphasizing the BEEN. She took her hand and rubbed it on Patricks chest, following it with her green eyes before peering back into his blue ones.

He looked at her with this weird look on his face and then glanced at the guys. They all shook their heads, dumbfounded at the girl. Patrick didnt know whether to give them the thumbs up sign or lip out the words "Help Me."

The girl backed away and clapped her hands together. "You have to meet my sisters. Theyll absolutely love you." She turned to the other guys and scanned them up and down. "You guys can come too." Then she giggled and said to herself, "My God, boys are so sexy!"

"Does she know we can hear her?" Marc asked, leaning over to Ben.

"What else would we be to women?" Ben answered with a question.

"I dont know," Michael butted in. "But Im Gods gift to them."

Marc and Ben looked at him, disgusted. Marc rolled his eyes. "Sure you are."

"Come on!" The girl waved the guys in a direction. "We cant keep them waiting. Im in enough trouble as it is."

The guys began to follow the strange girl. She giggled and skipped around in her neon outfit trimmed in fur. "Where do you live?" asked Patrick, uninterested in the answer but bored of the silence.

She bounced off of a brick wall and giggled. "Up there." She pointed to Hangmans Castle, a brick mansion nestled in the side of a cliff.

"Ditz. No one lives there," J said.

"Well, not after Loonie Lou," Ben corrected. "What happened to the guy anyway? Ive heard so many different tales, Im not even sure it ever happened."

"Oh, it happened. My great-great-grandmother was alive when he hung himself." Michael shuddered at the thought of the mans timeless fate.

"The real story is that the guy had these five nieces, and they were his only heirs. Their parents had died in a freak accident. The house went up in flames, but strangely all five of the girls got out although they slept in the basement. Anyway, Old Man Lou was convinced that the girls were out to get his fortune, so he kept em locked up in the tower." Marc stopped to point up at the top of the gothic house. "The girls tricked the butler into letting them out one night, they snuck into Old Man Lous bedroom, and they hung him with the bell rope. In the morning the butler found him dead and tried to untie the corpse. He never finished." Marc paused this time for emphasis. "Some say he was axed in the back of the head, chopped up, and buried in the walls. Havent you heard the expression if these walls could talk? Brings a whole new meaning to the saying."

"It wasnt the walls. We put him in the dumb waiter." The girl growled from the front.

"Ha ha. Very funny." Ben answered, turning to Michael and J and mouthing out crazy while twirling his finger in the air by his head.

2

"Girls! Sisters! I have a surprise for you!" the blonde screamed as she opened the door to the mansion. The guys watched as she let the door swing slowly open with squeaking hinges. Inside, it was pitch black and looked as if the only occupants were hundreds of spiders.

"By the way, what was your name?" Patrick asked as he peered into the creepy house. "I didnt quite catch it." Something ran across the floor and made him jump back.

"I didnt give it to you, silly." She giggled again. "Im Clover."

Marc, who was standing by his Californian acquaintance, murmured, "Psst! I wonder how many spooks live in there."

Ben just shrugged, and both men swallowed heavily.

Clover waved to the guys to join her. "Come on in!"

Reluctantly the five friends followed her into the infamous mansion. As soon as Michael who was bringing up the rear entered, the massive door slammed shut, and the locks could be heard turning. Johnson reached back and felt for the handle and began to jiggle it, but the deadbolt above him clicked into the locking position. "Hey!"

Suddenly the musty, still air that reeked of the waning years of the house grew cold, and a slight, cooling breeze swept past them, but the brief rush brought a chill to their bones. Clover began to giggle again, and more giggles joined her; they didnt seem to stay in one position; it was more like a whirling projection of the sounds of light laughs. Lights began to flash on and off with their rotten-colored bulbs, and the swinging of the lights on the ceiling brought a sickness to the boys stomachs. The room seemed like it was spinning, and still the voices seemed to be right up beside them in their ears and on the back of their necks. At one moment though, all of the paranormal events ceased like someone had turned off the granddaddy of all power switches.

Four girls stood in front of the group of guys and Clover. They wore tattered, dull petticoats and bared girdles with rotting laces and sallow ribbons. Their stockings were yellowed with age, and holes bared the girls white legs. Pointed boots completed the ensemble of old-fashioned garb. All of the girls had brownish hair pinned back into messy buns. One had dark brown hair that faded black as it reached her back, and the next tallest one had light brown locks with bangs. Another girl had reddish brown strands that attempted to look like a professional up-do, but failing at it miserably. The last girls hair was more blonde than brown, but it wasnt platinum like the girls in the graveyard.

The tallest one stepped forward, her skirt a faded black. Spider web trailed behind the girl, and a black widow scurried up into the darkness of the petticoat. A blood-red brooch hung around the girls neck, and her boots rose up almost to her knees, covering most of her striped stockings. She crossed her arms and glared at Clover with light gray eyes that were almost white. Turning around, she whispered to the one standing closest to her.

It was the next girl in height, but she wore an aged brown petticoat with lace. Her boots were splattered with mud, and decaying flowers were weaved into her hair next to a few scattered ribbons. This one had a string of yellowish pearls wrapped around her neck. The girls whispered to each other for a minute or two. Her honey eyes peeked over her shoulder a few times to look at the guys0 faces.

"What are they doing?" whispered J.

Patrick squinted his eyes and cocked his head to one side. "I dont know. Suspicious activity."

A hand rested on Patricks shoulder, and he jumped. He grabbed his chest over his heart. It was one of the other girls. She was the one with the styled hair. Her scarlet petticoat swayed as she tiptoed to look over the blondes shoulder at his friend. She gurgled a sort of purring sound.

Michael looked over his shoulder and yelled, "Whoa!" He stumbled backwards, hitting Ben who shoved him on top of Marc who pushed him into the stairwell banister. The girl smiled at Michael, revealing a missing tooth. She smoothed out her shorter skirt, and her blue eyes twinkled. She put the gold locket around her neck in her mouth to chew on it flirtatiously.

The last girl stood there quietly, her once-white outfit sallow and stained. She wiped her hands on her apron nervously. Her hand rose to the diamond on a band of lace around her. She fluttered her hazel eyes at the group of boys.

Clover held out a hand at the girls. "Guys, meet my sisters. Nightshade," she pointed at the dark-haired girl, "Rosemary," then at the lighter-brown-haired girl, "Ivy," next to the girl with the reddish hair, "and Holly," ending by pointing at the blonde. "Girls, these are the boys."

"I told you not to go outside this house," Nightshade scolded. "And what are you wearing?"

"May the devil take her and burn her," added Rosemary. "Shes not thankful for her powers."

"Outsiders arent allowed." Nightshade glared at the group.

"But theyre men! Real men!" Clover announced cheerfully. "When was the last time we had a live man in the house? Please, lets keep them!"

"Keep them?" Ben asked softly.

"What are we, dogs?" Marc answered.

"I like them," said Ivy. She strolled over to Michael on the floor and sat down by him, grabbing his arm and squeezing it. "Oh! Hes so strong. Hes got...what are they called again, Clover?"

"Guns."

"Guns!" the girl giggled.

Holly asked, "Maybe we can have them for dinner?"

"Dinner?" questioned J as the girl circled around him.

"Well talk about this later. Tonight is a full moon." Nightshade glanced at Clover. "Put something else on and take these men to their room."

"You mean rooms?" Patrick corrected.

She hissed at the blonde. Rosemary gave Clover a lit candle and whispered, "Well be waiting in the dungeon for you. Dont be late this time." She looked up at her dark sister. "Dont make her mad."

3

The lightning flashed, revealing the room in which the boys would stay. It was big, but not overly, and had one giant bed with red, silky sheet and down pillows that were flat with age. Large bedposts rose almost to the ceiling, holding up a deep, red canopy. At the top of each dark, oak post, there was a grim, bestial figure with grotesque expressions on each of their horrid, twisted faces. The dresser beside the gothic bed had one of the curious, ribald creatures mounted in the center. A table and a couple of worn chairs with moth-eaten, velvet cushions were scattered about the room, and a lonely fireplace loomed in the middle of the room.

Ben, holding a candle that flickered softly and gave an eerie presence to the already creepy sleeping quarters, whispered to the other guys as if the faintest sound might wake the dead, "Are you sure its safe to sleep here? Its not the most welcoming place Ive ever been."

Something approached the guys from behind and breathed down their spines, but when they turned around, nothing could be found after scanning the room high and low. "I got this weird feeling in my stomach that when the sun rises tomorrow, everything will be dark and cold even though the suns warmth will reach this room," Marc informed.

"What do you mean?" J asked, expecting the worst that could possibly come.

Marc just stared at the shorter male. "We might not make it through the night."

"I was afraid you would say that." J glanced at the bed again, shuddering because of the inanimate statues. "How about we all share the bed? If we stay together, there is a better chance that we will survive because five men arent exactly easy to bring down."

"Or theres a better chance will die because well all be together in one place, which makes it easier to attack." Marc had been walking around the group and stopped behind Michael. "Anythings possible." His face appeared over Michaels shoulder, scaring the blue-haired teenager and making him grab his chest. The Italian then walked over to J and glared at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Is he always that freaky?" Michael muttered to Ben.

"You dont know the half of it," answered Ben as he walked over to the bed. He grabbed the sheets and beated them with his hand to knock off some of the thick dust that had been setting for a long period. "Well, when Terenzis right, Terenzis right. If we are gonna die, then there is no stopping our fate." His blue eyes glimmered as he slipped into the silks.

The other four reluctantly copied Bledsoe by following him to the bed.

***

The four sisters were waiting for their baby sibling. They watched as she ran down the stone stairway and joined them in their circle around a mass of candles. She had changed into her pastel green petticoat and matching girdle. "The boys are in their room."

"You locked the door, no doubt?" Nightshade asked. She was peering at the candles and not at Clover.

Clover sat down and rubbed her hands against her worn petticoat. "I...uh, forgot. Give me another minute or two to go back up there and lock the door."

"No." Nightshade waved her hand as she twisted her fingers together. "Dont waste my time. Its been done. Sisters, the time has come."

All of the girls watched the flames rise higher and turn black, which gave off a purplish glow. Each one of the sisters then threw in a handful of powders, which made the smoke dance into strange shapes. They took each others hands and closed their eyes.

Rosemary reached behind her and brought forth a gold chain that held a medallion. Words were inscripted into the golden circle, but they were gibberish to most people because the characters were irregular. "Once belonged to us, Then to him, Undo what was, Life instead of Grim."

The flames suddenly became red, and the girls eyes became open. Then they passed around the medallion and kissed it, ending with Clover. She planted her lips on it then tossed it into the flames.

Suddenly the smoke swirled up into a point and slowly took form. It creeped into a human figure while in the air, and a mans outline was distinguishable. After a few seconds, it became solid and floated into Nightshades lap.

She stroked the mans brown hair, and each of her sisters came over and kissed his cheek. Her lips followed onto his. "Wake up, Andy. Wake up, our baby."

His brown eyes slowly opened and met each of the girls. His mouth opened as if to say something, but he didnt. He tried to sit up, but his attempts failed.

"Youre weak. Its been a long time, hasnt it?" Rosemary asked the young man. Her hand went over his head, and she closed her fist. When she parted her fingers, a red and black rose was revealed. She took his hands and placed the thorn-covered stem in them. "For you, from us."

"I dont...I dont know where I am," Andy said, his eyes wide and never blinking.

Ivy patted his hair. "Youre with us. Finally, youre home again. We love you, Andy."

"Such a tragic thing happened to you. Do you not remember?" Nightshade asked. He didnt respond. "We tell you every time. You died...I dont believe its bad; its just your life was too short. You wouldve made a difference if it wasnt for that accident."

Rosemary smiled at the boy. "Todays the anniversary. Two years ago that awful event happened. We loved you, Andy. And it seems there are others who do too. Five boys. Wandering through the graveyard at the witching hour, what else would they be doing except visiting a friend who is far away?"

The girls placed their fingers under the tall, deceased teenager and lifted him like a feather. They moved him to a wooden box in the corner. Then Holly whispered something that changed his ragged, rotting clothing into a clean, fresh burial suit. "Am I really home?" he questioned, noticing the coffin that he was in.

"For now," Rosemary answered. She shut the lid and locked him in. "Rest now."

Clover looked at her sisters. "Why do we do that? Why do we bring him back when he doesnt remember anything? He doesnt remember what happened to him or who we are. What are you trying to accomplish?"

"This is the last time. He is not going back. We will keep him here and help him remember," Holly said.

"But what does that accomplish? Nothing. We dont need him."

Ivy spat on her sibling. "What do you know? We do need him."

"If you dont like what we do, then you suggest something." Rosemary slapped Clovers hands and then started to grow rotting flowers in the cracks of the cobblestones of the dungeon floor.

Clover rubbed her stinging fingers, trying to numb the pain. "I say we put a spell on those boys I brought home. Make them fall in love with us. We have been without love since the 1800s because that is when they stopped venturing up to our home, and you vowed to stay in here. Its not a bad idea; they are good looking and harmless. Who would believe them if they said a bunch of witch sisters locked them in the mansion? Their friend Andy is dead (somewhat), and common humans believe death can cause insanity."

Ivy blushed. "They are very handsome. That one with the unusual blue hair is especially attractive."

Putting her hands on her hips, Nightshade jerked her head to raise an eyebrow at Rosemary. If she thought it was a good idea, then it probably wouldnt do no harm to try it.

Rosemary wrapped her arms around her and twirled around in a dance. "Remember the last time I was in love." The other girls rolled their eyes. "It was so romantic. What I would not give for that again-"

"I remember someone getting hurt. I also remember someone transforming a certain boy into a willow tree," said Holly.

"He deserved it," Rosemary grabbed a feather pillow and squeezed it. "One day Ill cut him down."

"So?" asked Holly, anticipating Nightshades decision.

"Well, they cant leave. Not alive anyway," Nightshade strolled over to the barred hole in the wall and looked out at the clearing sky. "There is something about this group...I am not sure what, but its almost hypnotizing." Then she cried a dark, mascara-running tear, and the sky darkened again, pouring another round of the murky drizzle.

4

Michael turned over in the bed, the sun warming his bare chest. "Huh?" He felt around in the bed, finding that he was alone and in a different bed than when he had went to sleep. This one had clean, white sheets and was the center of a white room that had a window with curtains that followed the breeze.

"Hello?" he called out, but the room was empty. What had happened? How had he came to be there? Where were the others? What had gone on last night? He searched his memory but soon found that the events of the former evening were just static in his mind; it was all a blur.

A door to the side, too small to be the main entrance, cracked open. Entering the room was a pretty lady with reddish-brown hair, that reached a little past her shoulders, in a scarlet robe. Her hair was wet, and her skin looked moist. "Sleep well? I know I sure did."

It suddenly hit Michael that this was the sister who was missing a tooth and had purred to him the night before. "Hold it, sister! Why should I care? You stay your distance." He stood up and held out his hand to show that he didnt want her coming near him.

"You didnt have any objections last night." Suddenly Michael found the girl behind him with her arms tight about his body.

He shoved her off and ran to the door.

When he got down the stairs, Michael found his four friends seated at a giant, oak table, munching on some food, probably poison in Michaels point of view. He went over and laid a hand on Patricks shoulder. "Is it me, or is something fishy going on here?" The boy added, "I wouldnt eat that if I were you."

J glanced over in his friends direction. His mouth opened, and a wad of food plopped out onto his plate.

"Eww! You couldve disposed of it in your napkin instead of acting like a heathen," Mike growled.

Ben placed his fork down and lifted his hands to his face. "Everyone cover your eyes!"

Patrick kind of chuckled as he turned around to look at his best friend, but instantly the chuckles became gags. "Eww, man, sick! What are you trying to do, blind us?" His eyes closed tight.

Marc shoveled in some more food as he informed, "At least we had the decency to put some clothes on before coming down for breakfast."

"Just because you can do that at home, Michael," Ben scolded, "that doesnt mean you have the right to do it in public."

The blue-haired boy suddenly realized what was going on and ran back up to the room. He fumbled to find his pants, but they were lost. He settled with an old pair of breeches that just seemed to miraculously fit him. When he returned, he saw that the others were in strange, olden-day clothes as well.

"Michael, man, you looked shocked," Patrick spat between bites of sausage and biscuit. He focused on Michaels wide, bagged, hazel eyes, bloodshot and shifting around the dining area. "Is something wrong?"

Michael sat down and rested his hand on his head. "Something went on last night."

"Well, thats kind of obvious," J stated. "A pretty girl, no clothes, and remembering nothing. Hmmm. I think we can all add 2 and 2 together."

"Thats nicely put," Patrick complimented. "Lets keep this conversation rated PG." As a second thought, he added, "At least, PG-13."

Michael crossed his arms. "How about we end this conversation and forget about it."

"Hey," Marc answered the command by holding both his hands out in a nonoffensive gesture, "you brought it up." He picked up his fork and poked at the sunny-side-up. "I think I lost my appetite."

Ben slowed his chewing on a biscuit and crumbs fell from his mouth on to the tabletop. "Why?"

"It looked at me." Marc motioned with his fork at the egg. Twisted in the gooey mess of yolk peeked two dark shadows that anyone else would have ignored. Oddly, the shadows appeared to be the eyes of a once living organism. "Nasty."

Ben stopped chewing altogether and stared at the half-eaten puff of bread in his hand. He laid it down and turned his head away, covering his mouth with a napkin. He swallowed the rest of the remaining baked good that was already lacerated and drenched in saliva. "Im suddenly not hungry either."

"Whatever," Michael snorted, ignoring the imaginations of the teenagers. He grabbed a sausage and skewered a boiled egg and a few pieces of bacon. "Man, Im starved." With a mouthful of mush, Mike noticed the half-eaten biscuit. "You gonna eat that? There aint any more."

Ben pushed his chipped plate over in front of Michael. "Go ahead."

J looked up from his plate; he apparently didnt take heed to Marcs insight. "Where are our hostesses?" he questioned the others even though he really didnt care; it just seemed lonely in the old mansion.

"Probably asleep in their coffins somewhere. I swear that those women are vampires. We only see them at night. Have you noticed there are no mirrors in this place? I havent seen any crosses anywhere either; not even the window panes criss-cross. Youd think such an old and gothic style home would have some kind of cross. You know, one of the ones with all the points and junk, but I guess that makes it even more threatening for the undead," Patrick opinionated. He pointed at the scrambled eggs on his plate as he added, "And they dont cook these right. Vampires hate garlic, and thats why these taste so funny. No garlic."

"What? Garlic? On eggs?" Ben interrogated.

"What? Doesnt everyone make them that way? You know, the normal way. Or are all of you part of the undead too?"

Marc cleared his throat. He muttered under his breath, "Sicko."

"Hey, if thats the case," Michael tried to explain, "then why did that one in the scarlet clothing stand in the light when I woke up? Thats not typical for your average vampire."

"Ohhh. Thats who you had, huh?" Marc chuckled.

Ben laughed with him. "Rrrrrr," he purred, imitating the girls actions the night before. He made his voice kind of high and said, "Hey, Michael. Is something in my teeth? It feels funny right here." The Californian pointed to where the space would be on the girl. He then cracked up laughing.

Marc thought it was so funny that he began to cry. "Good one, Bledsoe." He held his hand out and high-fived his buddy. "Ha! Ha!"

Snubbing his nose in the air, Michael retorted, "Quit teasing the poor girl."

"Who said we were teasing her?" asked Ben.

"Ha ha, very funny," Michael said. "Im dying inside cause that was so hilarious."

Marc cleared his throat again. "Whats got your panties in a wad?"

"I dont wear panties," Michael responded, growing red in the face.

"No," Patrick corrected, "he still wears his Huggies!"

Tears welled up in the blue-haired boys eyes. "I dont know why I call you my friend. Im not a baby! And I dont wear panties!" Michael looked around until he found what he was looking for. "Now I know who my true friends are." He put an arm around J.

J pushed him off. "He probably doesnt wear anything based on the way he said the previous two answers."

"No! Come on, I wear boxers or boxer-briefs if it calls for it! Quit making fun of me!" Michael stomped his foot on the ground like a toddler. He almost broke out screaming and rolling on the ground, but he decided against it, and a smile appeared on his face. "Youre all just jealous of me!"

"What?!" yelled the other four in unison.

"Thats right. I got the good one, and the rest of you got the leftovers. You had to pick through the deepest trash while the treasure in scarlet picked me."

"Yeah, shes a real treasure," Ben coughed.

"Hey, Mike, your dog leaves you treasures too," Patrick announced.

"Im leaving," Michael informed the group before storming out of the room.

***

Holly had asked J to meet her in the library. It took some time, but he finally found the annex that held the nooks and crannies that were filled to the top with books. When he went into the room, he found the blonde in her faded white evening gown, reading by candlelight.

"Enter, Master Horn," she commanded; he had been waiting outside the room.

The short man graced the room with his presence. He went over to one shelf and scanned some of the book titles, but he eventually made his way to the mahogany desk which the hazel-eyed girl sat at. J put his hands in his pockets and began to rock back and forth on his heels. "So?"

"So?" she repeated.

"Why am I here?"

"I dont know; you tell me. I merely asked you to join me, yet you didnt have to. Why did you decide to come to me? You seemed so shy. Your friends looked as if they bossed you around. But I think you have courage and authority to come here...all alone...with a woman that you dont know." Holly stood up and ran her fingers through Js light brown hair. "Trustworthy and trustful."

J smiled. "I guess its because I like you. I mean, at first you scared me. But for some reason, I just find it soothing to be around you. Your life is so serene, so calm. My life feels that way when Im near you."

"But this is only the third time--counting last night as two separate times." Holly giggled. "Why have you changed? Why have you changed from this scared, uneasy boy to this brave, docile man?" She knew what the answer was; she just wanted to hear what he would say.

"Holly."

"What? Come again?"

"You asked why I have changed. Its simple really; you. All I gotta do is say your sweet name," J explained to the girl. "Holly."

Holly smiled. It was funny how love could be molded like dough. One minute you are one person, then the next moment you are another because love makes you do stupid things. It was sad though that Js love for her wasnt the real thing; his love was some spell that was cast on him. Too bad because she really liked him. "Accompany me to my room, Joshua," Holly whispered to the boy in his ear.

"Okay. And you can call me J."

"J, huh?"

He nodded. He looked at the door then back at her. "Well?" J asked, smiling.

"Well what?"

"Arent we going?" He lifted both his eyebrows and hopped a little bit while motioning to the exit with his head. "How bout it?"

Holly giggled again. "Oh, of course! Let us be away then."

The two held hands as they left the library and headed upstairs. "By the way," J pondered, "how did you know my name was Joshua? I never told you or your sisters."

***

Clover watched Patrick digging through the old, musty closet. He seemed to be in deep thought, intent to find that something to fill a gap. He picked through purple-striped hat boxes with decaying head ornaments designed in complexity with filthy doves and other bony corpses. He managed to pry a rusted umbrella off an old-fashioned bicycle, missing the two small wheels along with the giant front one. Finally after an hour of searching with an impaired sight due to the dust, Patrick found what he thought he had been searching for.

A case, green with age, was worn shut with a bent clasp rusted in its twisted form. Patrick knocked it off with a cricket bat, slowly opening the case. The hinges creaked in an eerie, high-pitched squeal, but Patrick didnt notice. The only thing on his mind was the perfectly preserved violin. His fingers flowed over the perfect, handmade form and up the carefully-threaded strings. Plucking one, it was like magic to hear it still in tune.

"Hey, you, blondie," Clover instructed. Patrick almost jumped on top of the delicate instrument but stopped himself, just millimeters away.

"You mean me?" asked Patrick, pointing at himself with a finger. The girl nodded. "My names uh..." Patrick hesitated to tell this strange girl his true name, but something told him that it was all okay. "Patrick."

"Interesting," said Clover teasingly.

"What?"

She pranced over to the violin and gently picked it up. "You think your a pretty good player, dont you?"

Patrick straightened up, knocking the dust off of his clothes. "I wouldnt call myself Mozart, but yeah, I play pretty well." He held out a hand to take the instrument back.

Clover batted her eyelashes at Patrick as she placed the neck of the violin in his grip. "Play something for me." Patrick squinted his eyes and surveyed the girls face for truthness that she really wanted to hear him.

"Do you have a guitar?" Patrick questioned hopefully. "I feel like writing a song. Inspiration hits me when Im with you. Your smile, oh its a beautiful thing."

The girl giggled, holding her hands over her mouth. "Im sure I can find one. Tell me more about, well, me!" She plopped down on the wood floor in Indian style to listen.

"Uh," Patrick scratched the back of his neck, "Well, for starters, your eyes...theyre so piercing green that their like jade knives that stab into my soul when you look into my eyes. And your lips are always a luscious, fruity color. Uh, are you sure you cant get a guitar now?" Patrick started to tap his foot impatiently, and then he began to bounce up and down like he needed to use the bathroom, biting his lip not to yell out.

"Whats wrong? Are you okay?"

"I dont think I can keep it all in anymore. I gotta let you know..."

"Know what?"

"I love you!"

***

Ben didnt know where he was going. He didnt have a reason to be nosing around the mansion, but he was bored, and boredom always led to curiosity. He wandered the gloomy hallways, often slicing thick spider webs in half to make his way to the next door. Some were jammed, and others were locked. But Ben opened every heavy wooden door to find moldy furniture, rotting beneath sallow sheets.

He rambled to large, carved doors in the back of the house. Running his fingers across the intricate engraving, Ben noticed a brass key, rusted in the keyhole of one. He looked to his left and then to his right, double checking that no one would see him snooping. He laid against the door and tapped his fingers on it. Something creaked towards the left hallway, and Ben jerked his head to see what it was but shrugged, deciding it was the old house settling. Turning the key and pulling the door open, he stepped out.

The door led to an outdoor garden enclosed with a whitewashed brick wall. A twisted willow grew from the side and over the wall, its browning switches blowing in the slight breeze. All of the flowers were dead, and it looked like a graveyard. Nothing had lived in the garden in quite a while Ben decided.

He strolled around the small nursery, dragging his hand over the wrecked fountain. Algae and fungus grew on the bottom and up the sides of the demolished bricks strewn around in a circle. Still water sat stagnant, a breeding ground for mosquitoes in any other garden. This one though showed no signs of any insects; it was the perfect garden that every gardener wanted.

A statue sat off in one corner of the enclosure by the mansion and the wall, half of it shattered on the ground, but Ben could still make out what it had been. The destroyed half was once a pretty girl until it had been struck by lightning recently. The charred remains were still visible, and a patch of weeds had began to infect the rich soil. The other part of the statue was a boy, alone without his love.

"Man, the story of my life," Ben said to the statue. "Always alone, even when Im with someone." He sat down by the sculpture and picked through the rubble. "The last girl was horrid. I dont know why I stuck with her. I guess Im afraid to be alone." He put his face in his hands.

Ben looked up and rubbed his hand over his head and down his neck. He glanced over at the ruins; the boy had a bouquet of stone flowers held out to the girl, holding the hem of her dress and her finger up by her mouth. Neither were painted, but you could sense that the children were blushing. "What the-?"

Water began to spray up out of the fountain. It spat out a few mouthfuls of moss-green slime until crystal water had filtered through the pump.

Ben approached the fountain slowly, grabbing a fallen limb as protection. His eyes darted around the courtyard, and he spun around looking for a mysterious stranger. Standing his guard down, Ben peered into the pool of fresh liquid. His reflection smiled up at Ben, and he stumbled backwards, falling on his bottom. He crawled over to it again, peeking over the edge and noticing that it was just his reflection. It only did what he wanted it to do.

Taking a handful of water, Ben splashed it on his face and sipped the refreshing liquid.

"Thirsty?" asked a womans voice.

Ben spun around to find the light-haired Rosemary gazing at him. The garden had transformed into a very different place. Thistle, daisies, pansies, roses, bluebells, honeysuckles, tiger lilies, tulips, and about three dozen other flowers grew everywhere; they were in the ground, on the brick wall, and hanging in pots suspended from the willow which had now grown green. In the corner of his eye, Ben caught a glimpse of a lizard scampering away from under his arm. Birds called out to their mates in beautiful song, and a pair of rabbits hopped out of a hole in the side of the wall barely large enough for a small child to crawl through.

Wide-eyed, Ben tried to explain it. But there was no explanation. Suddenly he found himself on a emerald hill. The breeze rustled the stalks of grass beneath him. Rosemary sat behind him, forming an intricate crown of dandelions with her pearl-white hands. She sat the finished headpiece on his dark blonde locks.

Ben grabbed the girls arm and startled her. "What?" she asked soothingly.

"Everythings different." He let go of her and looked down at his hands. "Am I?"

The girl cooed softly to her teenage companion. "Take my hand." He looked down at it, longingly, but he ignored it and grabbed his other hand to stop him from taking hers.

His icy eyes looked into her warm, sweet ones. "Youre so trusting. Youre better than I was," Ben said, "more than I am." He turned away, shielding his cold irises.

Rosemary guided his face back to meet hers. "What do you mean?"

Ben sighed and watched a white butterfly flutter by. "Ive been hurt one too many times. Never will I trust a woman again. Last time it cut way too deep, and now Im drowning in my own tears and blood. But you. You still have a chance to love."

"You can trust me."

"But-"

"Trust me," she whispered, offering her hand to the boy again. She looked deeply into his eyes. A force pushed his hand on top of hers, and she laced her fingers with his. A calming sensation came over Ben, and he loosened up, melting like butter and resting his head on the ground. Rosemary laughed and put an arm over him and on the ground on the other side of him, so he couldnt get away. She stroked his hair and kissed his lips softly.

"All of this happened," he rolled his eyes around the landscape and then up and down his body, "by taking your hand." He grabbed her lacy sleeves and pulled her to him.

"Push me?" asked Rosemary. She motioned with her head towards a milky-colored swing on a new set of ropes twisted with pale ribbons that trailed the ground at the end. She went and sat on the board, the ruffles of her cream-colored dress waving in the gale. Rosemary smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

Ben followed her to the swing and pulled back on the ropes.

***

Marc turned the knob on the black marble bathtub and began letting the hot water fill almost to the brink of spilling over the edge. He reached for the back of his shirt to pull it over his head but decided his clothes could just dry. When the water was to the maximum height, he slid into the bathtub, fully clothed. The steam rose, but his body still felt cold; he had only got in the bath to warm himself up, but it wasnt working; it just seemed to make the freeze worse.

He submerged his whole body, excluding his head, into the liquid that was barely penetrable by the weak lighting in the room. The water hugged his body and helped drift his clothes away from his chilling skin. For about a minute, he was okay, but Marcs teeth began to chatter, and the cold began to cloud his thoughts, making him paranoid.

The water slowly rose over his brown eyes, then over his dark brown hair, until Marc was fully swallowed by the liquids. He waited under there, peering at his blurry feet and his flowing pants. The breath that he held onto as his only connection to life began to disappear, so he returned to the surface.

When he came out, he noticed that he was no longer in the bathroom; Marc found that he was in a necropolis. The sky was a deep black with no moon, and the only light came out of the fountain that he was sitting in. The water in the fountain was still and warm, like that of the bathroom, but the red glow that produced from somewhere below him was eccentric.

Marc pulled himself out of the stone fountain and scanned the graves. They were odd; they were twisted and stretched like something Tim Burton might put in a film. The white words on some of them stood apart from the deep grays that made up the cemetery. Reading some of the names, Marc found that this was not the cemetery that he had visited earlier.

Something caught Marcs attention. It sounded like music that was far away. He jumped over some of the headstones but weaved between the taller crosses and old, malicious angels as he followed the sound. When he reached a crooked-looking hill, Marc peeked over the side.

There was Nightshade, the eldest of the sisters, the one who could intoxicate you with just a glare. She was sitting on one of the angel statues as her eyes watched something on the ground that was invisible to Marc.

Marc ducked behind the hill again because he heard something behind him, but the only thing present was the wind and the cold that still unusually haunted him on the late-spring night. He darted his attention back to the gray-eyed girl only to find those piercing eyes staring straight at him. His boots began to pound the ground that held the dead as he ran away.

He jumped behind a half-broken angel, catching his breath. Marc checked around the corner to see if she was following him, but nothing had. His heart began to fall back to its normal pace until a hand could be felt on his shivering shoulder.

Marc turned to find the taller woman standing beside him, smiling. "Oh, God! You scared me...How did I get here? I know you know."

She just shrugged her shoulders, her brown and black hair bouncing softly. Nightshade looked at the ground and reached out for the Italian. Her arms wrapped around his uptight body, instantly relaxing it. She held him closely, and the chill seemed to disappear from his bones. She whispered into his ear and ran her fingers through his wet hair.

He didnt object to it. They just began dancing . Everything around Marc slowly disappeared except for her; he could still see everything, but reality had faded, making it seem like a dream. Nightshade had held his body to hers, melting in the Italians arms. She, though, became sad because she knew she would have to leave him, and it started to rain.

Marc and Nightshade stopped dancing, and Marc looked up into the sky. The water had suddenly begun pouring heavily without a sprinkle to start it or give notice. The boy smiled and laughed a little. "Did you do this?"

Nightshade looked away, her hair becoming soaked in the skys tears; she too was crying.

"Whats wrong?"

She hugged Marc tightly. She didnt want to let him go. "Dont leave..."

"I wasnt going to," Marc comforted her. He wrapped his hands around her dripping, black, floor-length dress. He rubbed his head against her bare shoulder. "Lets keep dancing in the dark." Marcs wet hair rested against her neck, and they began to dance again.

One of her striped glove covered hands reached for the sky where the sun was rising. Suddenly its awakening process began to reverse.

Marc glanced behind him to see the last of the sun disappear behind one of the sinister hills of the graveyard. He gave one amused laugh. "Middle of the night," he said and then turned back to her.

The two turned there attention back to each other while the rain kept falling.

***

His eyes were all puffy and swollen because Michael had went to his room and cried the day away. The last of his tears had dried up, and Michael was feeling dehydrated. Why were the guys so mean to him? He had never done anything to them. But that was life. You had to take the good with the bad and the happy with the sad. Where though had it said you had to take all the jokes and torment from the guys who claimed to be your buds just to get a little love from a pretty girl even if it was a one-night stand?

Michael ventured into the kitchen, searching for a glass to pour some water in. He searched the cabinets until he found molded wine glasses in the back of the cupboard. It wasnt anything too dangerous growing on the slick surface, so he thought it would be okay to use the cup.

Reaching over to the sink, Michael turned the faucet, but nothing came out. "Huh?" He turned the knob some more, expecting a rush of tap to spray him. He closed his eyes and turned his head, steadying himself for impact as the knob stopped, unable to turn any further. Nothing. Michael opened one eye slowly, and then the other one followed. Something was seriously wrong with the plumbing.

He tapped the spout like a monkey finding something new. Where was one of the sisters when you needed her? Michael sat the glass down before setting out to find someone to help him. As he left the room, he noticed the old ice box in the corner. Just to be sure there wasnt any bottled water stashed away inside, Mike peeked in.

His eyes filled with horror. It was gruesome. Blood was spattered everywhere. The steel blade was still protruding from its victim, blue from freezing. Forever locked away in the ice with utter horror painted on the face. Michael pulled the body out of the freezer and dangled it in the air. "Someone should cook this chicken. It looks like its gonna rot soon." He threw the carcass back into the depths of the cold.

Returning to his search, he found Ivy reading in the den. Sitting by the fire, she looked cozy and content while reading a thick, old, hard-covered book that was worn with age. Michael quietly entered and snuck up behind the girl in the high, straight-backed, raggedy, and old red chair. He peered down at the book, his head spinning as he tried to read the gibberish written on the pages. "Whats that say?"

Alarmed, Ivy jumped in her seat and looked up at her company through broken-lensed glasses. She pulled them off her nose like a librarian might do and folded them up to study his face. "What does this say?" she asked, pointing at the book with a long finger.

Michael nodded his head and smirked. He leaned down to get a closer look at the writing, but hurriedly lifted his head up when Ivy shut the book an inch from his nose. She snubbed her nose. "Youre not permitted to look at that."

Putting on his big, sad, puppy dog eyes, Michael poked out his bottom lip and begged, "Please? Do it for Michael."

She giggled, instantly washing away the seriousness off her face. "Well, okay. But only for a moment. Just dont tell Nightshade. She would hang me if she knew I let you read this." She slowly opened the book back up, turning it around so Michael could read it without looking upside down.

He didnt know what the symbols meant, but somehow he could understand the dialect. It was strange; in fact, he had never witnessed anything so extraordinary. The words seemed to pop up off the page and dance around him in circles, chanting the meaning of their poetic language.

Ivy closed the cover, and she sat the book down in the floor. Putting her arm around Michaels shoulder, she looked him up and down. "I fancy you," she began. "In fact, I fancy you quite a bit. You are not like the other boys that courted me back then. I want to do something for you."

"Oh, no, you dont have to wait on me hand and foot," Michael answered. "Youve done enough for me already. I mean last night. Supposedly it was really good." Michael surveyed the girl. "I bet it was."

"What have you always wanted?" asked Ivy. "Deep down, what is the thing that you want the most?"

Michael thought hard. There were so many things that he wanted, that he felt he needed. It was so hard to choose just one wish. But in the end, Michael knew there was only one true thing that he wanted; and the bonus was that it could probably give him everything else.

"Fame?"

Michael nodded his head. How did she know?

"Let me show you something." She took Mikes hand, and Ivy led him to the bookshelf, randomly selecting a paperback. "This is the one." Ivy opened the book, flipping near the middle of the book and holding it out to Michael to read.

His eyes scanned the page, but all of a sudden, he was in another place. Michael was a star; he was captain of the US swim team, holding a gold medal to show the world who the best of the Olympians. He was the star receiver on his favorite football team, and he was the pitcher of a major league baseball team. In fact, Michael was the best at everything.

Ivy approached the amazed man in his mansion, standing before the case of trophies, of awards, of ribbons, and of medals. "Do you like this? Is this what you wanted?"

"Everythings so unreal. And who I am now is who I wanted to be." Michaels smile faded into a frown. "No, this isnt what I really want."

"And that is...?"

Michael turned to the girl and looked into her eyes. "The greatest trophy of them all. The chance to be number one in her heart." He pointed to the girls chest. "You."

5

It was sunrise.

The girls knew that they couldnt keep the boys forever; questions would start to arise in the little town where they lived. People would start investigating and find the sisters. It was just all too risky. Something had to be done. The rule of thumb by love is "if I cant have you, then know one will," but the girls didnt want to annihilate the young men that they had fallen in love with. It definitely was out of the question. They all knew what they had to do.

"No!" screamed Clover. "I wont give Patrick up! I love him!" She glared at her sisters and pointed a finger at the eldest. "You dont care though...Whenever I fall in love, it is always a problem, and problems must be fixed. But not this time. No. I am taking control. I will not leave Patrick." She sniffled. "If I have to run away with him, then I will. Just as long as we are together, I will be happy."

The other four shook their heads in disappointment.

Rosemary picked at a bug on the dungeon floor. "I love Ben just as much as you love the blonde. But I know he cant stay; he has his own life, and I want him to be happy. And if his happiness can only be achieved by setting him free, then I guess that is best for all of us."

"What is best for me is Patrick."

"What is best doesnt always feel right," Rosemary added, "but that doesnt make it wrong."

Clover stuck her nose in the air and turned her back. "I wont leave him."

Nightshade laid her hand on the young girls shoulder, but Clover brushed it off. "Patrick needs to go back to his family. They miss him and love him too, if not more than you. And he needs to have his own life back. Hell be happier that way, even if that puts you out of his life forever."

"No."

Holly squinted at Clover, glaring with a little hate. "Its always you, you, you. Its always what you want. Why not for once let somebody else get what they want?"

"Give it up, Clover," Ivy demanded.

Clover sniffled and almost began to cry, but she decided that the others were right. "Fine. What do you propose we do?"

The girls sat in silence as they thought. Suddenly, Ivy came up with an idea. They devised it carefully, down to the last possible detail, and they made up alibis and backup plans just in case anything went wrong. They had to make the guys believe that everything never happened.

***

"J! Oh, J!" yelled Holly. She searched the house high and low for the man she had to say goodbye to. Finally she found him in the kitchen. "I need your help. I need you to...uh, plug in a light for me." None of their lights ran on electricity, so she magically made a socket and lamp appear in the library.

The two went into the library. Holly told J how she wanted to read, but the light wasnt working right, and the plug had came out. She didnt want to plug it back up because she saw a big, scary rat in the dusty, dark corner.

"Okay," J said. He got on his hands and knees and found the cord behind a Victorian sofa. "Here it is." He reached over to the socket and shoved it in.

But something went wrong. J suddenly felt thousands of bolts of energy go swimming through his weak, human body. He was helpless against the high shock. He passed out on the library floor after hearing the clock on the desk toll its twelfth ring, signaling that it was midnight.

***

Patrick had so much fun in the last day, talking and laughing with Clover. Finally, she had found a guitar, and Patrick serenaded her time and time again. At the moment, the two were laying on his bed, Patrick telling the girl about his high school.

"That sounds so wonderful," the girl admired. The two sat in silence, neither knowing what to say. Clover traced a heart in the sheets. "How much do you love me?"

Without thinking to hard about it, Patrick replied, "I would do anything for you."

Clover nodded, knowing he would say that. She didnt want to hurt him, but what was best for Patrick was to let him go. "Vow your love to me for the world to hear." Patrick looked at her confused. "Come with me. I know where you will be able to do it."

The two journeyed to the forbidden outdoors, and Clover pointed up at a telephone pole. "Up there, at midnight, you are gonna yell it out to the world."

Patrick laughed. "This is gonna be so insane. But anything for you." He scrambled up the termite-infested wood pole. "Tell me when!" he yelled down to her, chuckling madly like a loon.

Clover cried a tear and wiped it away quickly. "Oh, youll know." She whispered a spell underneath her breath, and the winds began to stir violently. Her dyed-blonde hair whipped in front of her saddened face as she forced a gust to push Patrick into the sets of telephone wires. Turning her head away, she whispered, "Now."

***

Marc had no choice. He had to get back in the bathtub full of hot, scalding water. His bones had froze over again; he couldnt explain why, but it only happened when he wasnt in Nightshades arms. The waters pulled his pants and shirt towards the top, and his weight held them to the bottom, where they swayed between the difference.

He looked around the bathroom, surveying the contents of the room. It was pretty much plain with no candles, bath salts, or fragrances sitting on the counters or in the floor. The towels in the room were a musty gray color that blended in with the walls. "What do these people do in their spare time? Stare at the ceiling?"

Marcs eyes wandered to the ceiling to see if it was even interesting, but his hopes were suddenly spoiled when he found it dead white, so he just closed his eyes.

Nightshade approached the door. She peeked into the crack and watched the man for a minute, trying to find a way to do what had to be done. Her eyes wandered to the black hair dryer that Clover had brought home and that Nightshade disapproved of deeply.

The Italian opened his eyes and saw the girl with the brown and black hair staring through the almost-shut door. "Hey," he said, greeting her. He began to rise from the tub but was cut short.

Chains had came out of the drain, wrapping themselves around Marcs legs, and then they pulled him back into the water. The rusted metal links coiled around his body and enclosed his arms. "Whats going on? Nightshade help!" Marc screamed, unaware that it was her who was controlling the chains. "Nightshade-"

A chain wrapped around his head, muffling his voice and gagging his mouth. The chains held him down into the steaming liquids. But he could still hear the sound of the bell tolling midnight through the water.

And suddenly the hair dryer plugged itself into a socket and wobbled to the side of the counter. "Goodbye, Marc." Nightshade whipped her hand, and the appliance fell into the waters as it turned on, and the room lit up.

***

Ben and Rosemary were playing hide-and-seek out in the newly falling rain. It was nearing midnight, and the only lights were the iridescent glow of the lightning bugs and the lantern Ben carried around on a long, iron rod. Rosemary found the boy hiding in the bushes. "It is your turn."

Ben laid on the ground and covered his eyes with his hands. "Im only counting to a hundred. One, two,-"

Rosemary snapped her fingers, and she was on top of the mansion. Ben had to be the highest object in a couple hundred yards, and the house was the tallest thing that Rosemary knew. She sat down by a demolished gargoyle and rested her chin on her hands. Watching the boy, she saw him stand up and look around until he noticed her figure on the roof.

Ben laughed to himself as he made his way to the house. "Now, how did she get way up there? One hundred seconds isnt exactly a really long time." An hour later, Ben finally found his way to the flat, shingled, housetop. "Where are you?"

Squinting to see through the rain, Ben carefully stepped across the roof, searching between the gargoyles. The churchs bell tolled midnight in the background; it could be heard for miles in fact. He saw the girl huddled over at the corner of the roof. He straightened up as he saw her raise her hand. "What?" he asked himself.

Rosemary said quietly, "Well always have each other in our dreams." She dropped her arm, and a flash of lightning filled the sky and struck down on the lantern. Thunder rolled a few seconds later, and Rosemary went back inside the house.

***

Ivy had been watching Michael in his bedroom for half an hour. He was sitting on the bed, tossing cards into a hat that was across the room. She still didnt know how to get the job done. But she decided it could be a spur of the moment thing.

"Hey," Michael greeted. He got up and approached her. His hands ran across her back as he kissed her.

Ivy smiled and blinked rapidly.

"Something wrong."

"No," she said. "Ive got to...uh...tell you something."

Michael grinned. "I do."

"I do what?" Ivy was confused.

The blue-haired boy laughed. "Dont be silly. Of course I will marry you. Itll be fun!"

Ivy was shocked. "Huh? Thats not what I was going to say. And who said anything about me asking anything to you. I said I was going to TELL you something." Michael gave a hurt sigh. "Well, Michael..."she began, still not sure of what to do. She was trying to stall until she came up with a good idea. "Michael. I have to tell it to you now." The clocked tolled midnight. She lied, "Michael, Im pregnant with your baby."

Michaels grin twisted into a frown. "Wha-wha-what?" His voice became really high, and his eyes rolled into his head as he fell.

6

The last tolls of the bell at midnight hung on the still air. Ben scrunched his face up as a drop of water hit him in the nose, and then another one hit him in the eye. A whole army of them pelted down all over his body. Ben sat up suddenly, and he felt his body up and down. "Im alive! Alive!" he laughed. He turned to the nearest person and shook them awake.

Marc shook his head as his friend kept shaking him by the shoulders. He waved his hand in front of his face, like he was trying to swat a fly away from his face. "What are you doing?" he asked sleepily.

"Im alive!" Ben yelled.

Marc sat up wide-eyed and felt his body. He laughed with his companion. "Im alive, too!"

"Too?"

Patrick kicked the guys. "Quit making so much racket. Its not a miracle that you two are alive. Its a curse; this whole towns probably awake by now. Now me on the other hand, it IS a miracle."

"I am invincible!" yelled J. He shook his fists up at the dark sky. "I showed you! I showed you all!" J turned to look at the others. He covered his mouth as he snickered. "Man, you guys need to see a hair dresser. Its all like bam!" J motioned with his hands to show it was stuck out in all directions.

"I wouldnt be talking," said Marc. "It looked like you stuck your finger in a light socket."

Patrick grabbed his head. "My hair, my beautiful hair!"

"Shut up about the hair." Ben hit Patrick in the arm.

Michael, who was still unconscious, began twitching and hyperventilating.

"Uh oh. Asthma," Patrick announced and dug through the blue-haired boys pockets until he found the inhaler. He shoved it in Mikes mouth and pumped it.

A groan came out of Michael as he sat up. He realized that the guys and him were in the graveyard. "NO! NO! Im not ready to be a daddy!" Michael screamed, still remembering what Ivy had said. He began to grunt.

"Could you quit that? It sounds like youre constipated," Marc demanded and then threw a rock at him.

"What is he ranting about?" Ben asked, covering his ears with his hands. "Somebody shut him up, please!"

Patrick looked around. "What day is it?"

Ben noticed the tire marks in the mud. "Looks like Sunday night. They always bury people on Sunday here." He pointed at the tracks.

"Well, what did we do from Friday night at midnight to Sunday night at midnight?" Michael asked suspiciously. No one had a reasonable answer.

"Was it all just a dream?" questioned Marc.

Patrick said sternly, "Of course it was just a dream. We all had it; you know, its like a uni-mind between us all. What do you think happened? We met a witch in a graveyard and was seduced by her and her crazy sisters?"

"It could happen," Marc answered seriously.

"I dont believe it," Patrick barked, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

"What else is there to believe?" asked Michael. "People are gonna wonder about us. We need a good, reliable story to stick with so no one thinks were crazy."

"But maybe we are." Marc looked at the others.

Ben stared at the sky. "Does anyone else find it strange that Old Man Lou had five nieces, and there were five sisters living in that mansion? Everyone says that no one lives there. Maybe theyre right. What if the girls are just ghosts? And did anyone hear Clover, if that is her real name, say that they put the butler in the dumb waiter, not the walls?"

"You are crazy!" J exclaimed.

Ben raised a fist to hit the insulter but put it down. "What?" asked Marc. "Too soft? Want me to do it?" He grabbed J by the collar, so he wouldnt be able to run away. Ben shook his head. He pointed to something behind J, and all the heads turned to see what it was that had frightened the Californian.

Lightning flashed to reveal what they had been sleeping next to. "Andrew King," J whispered as he read the name off the headstone. Marc peeked around the side of the grave to see the actual front of the stone. He scrambled back against Michael and Ben.

"What?" Michael asked curiously. Marc was too stunned to answer; he just waved a shaking finger in the direction. The others all got up to see what it was.

A hole had been dug up in the mud, ending six feet below the surface. The smooth, black lid of a coffin shined with the wet droplets on it. It was barely cracked, not enough to see in it.

Michael ripped a dead branch off a tree nearby. He used it as an arm to open the lid rest of the way. All were expecting a dead, decaying corpse within its resting place, but the casket was empty. The red velvet interior turned scarlet as the rain dampened it.

Epilogue

J, Patrick, Michael, Ben, and Marc laughed at each other, drunk and confused. They were just outside Hangmans Castle. Rain pelted down, drenching the guys black tuxedo coats and their white, crisp, button-up shirts.

Marc clawed at the wooden boards blocking the entrance, and Ben and Patrick went and helped him rip the barricade. The boys broke into the old home and sat down in the foyer floor with only a dying candle.

"Congratulations, J! You beat us all to the ol ball and chain," Michael chuckled. "What a wild bachelors party! A real boys night out if I do say so myself."

"Yeah, wont be long though before Terenzi and me have our last nights as single men," Ben spat.

Marc slapped J on the back. "Can you believe we came back after all these years?"

J shook his head. "I still aint sure if that ever happened."

Patrick laid down on the marble and stared up at the ceiling. "This past decade, I was so sure that it was all a dream, but now, being in Loonie Lous home makes me wonder. Everything seems to be where I remember it."

"Spooky," Marc whispered.

"Whats this?" Michael pondered. "Hey, bring that light over here."

Patrick carried the melting wax over to the corner of the room where Michael was standing. "It looks like a bunch of weeds if you ask me."

Ben wandered over to the others. "No, they arent just any weeds. Nightshade, Rosemary, Ivy, Holly, and Clover." He pointed out each flower as he named them.

"Being here just does something to me; it sends a shock right through me," J said.

"I cant get enough," Marc added, eyes glazed over. All the others nodded.