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For everyone who knows that Halloween is a state of mind not a time of year.
And all the songs sang A tale so dark and true That once day our lady of spring would return To save hell from you
Berries of black stained her lips Cursed by the devil’s wicked fingertips Our lady of death would seek and find To break the curse for souls to bind
Death’s four horsemen rage and fight Against the long October night Oh, come Halloween! In Hell, above so below Trick her treat Time to learn Time to eat.
For the devil himself is one with death. They walk hand in hand.
Go ahead. Turn the page. I know you’re dying for hell. Trick-or-treat? Judas
“Not a rescue,” it said plainly. “A damning.”
“Funny how sin and fun go hand in hand, isn’t it, James? Live a little. We only have one life.
I am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and I thought people would see it because ‘romantic’ doesn’t mean ‘sugary.’ It’s dark and tormented — the furor of passion, the despair of an idealism that you can’t attain. Catherine Breillat
Oh, my friends, something wicked this way comes.
“It’s a part of my affinity and my affliction toward you.” “I’m going home.” “You are home.”
“I was once made of human stuff, like you. Then I found the devil himself and traded my humanity for dark power, a deck of cards, and, of course, to be in his service. You? Same story. At least this time around.”
I scoffed. “You should see what I can do with an actual mirror. There wasn’t one on my vanity.” Zyre tapped his chin. “Wonder why, hm?” But before I could question his odd and teasing grin, he continued.
He chuckled. “I can see why you’re his bride. You two have similar senses of dark sass.” “Wait, what? I’m not his bride.” “Toodles!” Zyre waved before erupting into a cloud of glitter that made me cough.
“Why are there no mirrors? Why does this place look like Ash Grove?”
“I see you had a lovely walk, my bride. You know, Halloween in hell is something souls aspire to for eternity.” He took a leisurely sip of bourbon. “You got to waltz right in. Wonder why that would be?”
I held out a shaky and accusatory finger. “It was you the whole time. Sending the ghouls after me, the demons, you—you lied to the Halloween Boys.” “Ah, you’ve solved the easiest part of the mystery. Congratulations, Blythe. Now, will you finally start piecing the rest together so we can get on with it?”
In the mirror, I watched as Devil looked on, seemingly pleased, and bent forward, brushing his lips against my ear from behind. “Hello, Mortala. My bride. Welcome home.”
His crystal blue eyes narrowed. “Unfortunate name. Judas betrayed Jesus and his disciples. The great deceiver, some say. An incarnation of the devil himself.”
Do devils love each other? Do they walk arm in arm in hell saying, “Ah, you are my friend, how I love you,” things like that to each other?...it was a matter of a concept of evil, wasn’t it? Anne Rice, The Vampire Lestat
The devil was the overpass, every deep cavern of terror, and the rushing waters of horror.
The sun filtered in through the multicolored stained glass of Lamb’s Blood Church: hell edition. A church so thoroughly defiled now by demons and devils and sex that surely it belonged in hell more than Ash Grove, even.
I had horns now. I was death. I’d find a way to start acting like it, and I would make him burn if he got in my way.
“You said once that Stevie Nicks was one of the greatest lyricists of all time, didn’t you?”
“My job is to look after this place and all its levels. I ensure balance. You’ll find that, on this side of the veil, balance is more paramount than most things. The notions of good and evil merely come from mortals making sense of the balance we on this side of the veil inherently comprehend.”
“It is as old as time, Ace. You could say Halloween was inspired by this place. A worshipping of the season change, the thinning of the veil, harvest, Samhain, whatever you want to call it—it all started here.”
“I promised that I would chase after her soul—we all did—and if that leads us to our end, then so be it. Boys, we’re going to hell… to kill the devil.”
I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside of me there will always be the person I am tonight. Tender Is the Night, F. Scott Fitzgerald
No, if I were in hell, then I would become hell. I would become hell for him. He would want to release me just to get rid of me. No more doormat, scared bunny, running teenager. This ended now.
What if all this is real and not a lie? What if I’m not tricking you? Could you try to believe that? If only for a moment.
How many people throughout eternity had heard the devil laugh? To be the source of that had my mind and heart spinning and beating like bat wings in the night. Was I… crushing on the devil?
“Is this all real?” I said, awed. “Please, just tell me if this is a trick.” “Can’t it be both?” he asked in that sly way the devil always and never answered. But in an effort to ease my turmoil, he did finally add, “It is real. It is my home, our home, and my personal level of hell. The best and truest level.”
Onyx let out a huff and ran his hands through his hair. “It’s a highway. Guys, this is the literal highway to hell!”
He punched my arm hard and chuckled. “Fuck you guys. I know what you’re doing. And you know this is fucking rad. We’re on the highway to hell right now.” The vampire hybrid looked around. “It’s like, eight lanes, too. Hell get a lot of traffic?”
“Let’s see what all the rock songs are about, boys,”
Deeper into hell, foes and friends at our back, in pursuit of the hope that had been stolen from us. To fight the thief of that hope was our destiny, our curse, our holy calling.
After a moment, “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC thundered over the three roars of machinery. I’d speed into hell to get farther away from my father and my wretched people.
And then the world was fading to her favorite shade of black.
What would shame do to Onyx Hart? What would pride do to James Cove? What would ignorance do to Wolfgang Jack?
“Because you’re you. Because you are them, and they are you, and hell is your kingdom, and Ash Grove is hell shimmering on the earth side of the veil.”
Death, the master of the hidden. A long and drawn-out game of hide and seek. Of course she’d found her way to Ash Grove. Hell through the veil.
Then Danu spoke, and we all turned, shocked. Were these the first words she’d spoken in a millennium? Longer? “Death,” she said, looking down and swaying in all her gray hooded robes, “has chosen her four horsemen. It is as it should be.”
I took his long, feathered wing in my hand and held it tight. Raven had, this entire time, been an extension of Judas’s love. A hint, a clue, of the love we shared for so long.
They were all pieces of me, and I was pieces of them, and we were all one. Ghost, Dragon, Wolf, and Devil. They were mine; they were me, and we were all made for each other.
A holy and evil celebration of the worst and deadliest of loves. A love that died and came back to life.
She’d always loved Halloween. A magic night. A night when anything could happen. Monsters could be real. Magic could whisper in the air. Cynthia Eden
Death and her four horsemen, the witches whispered around their cauldrons of pumpkin spice. Nothing but trouble. The old men of Ash Grove would shake their heads over their newspapers.
And my boys and I. Ghost, Dragon, Wolf, and Devil. Well, we’d always have Halloween. Together we were Halloween. Stories of us were ghost tales and horror novels full of mystery. Of how death came and gave pieces of herself to the men she loved.
