This is the 3rd and final part of this story. Hope you liked it, leave comments to let me know what you thought.
Previously on NEVER Piss Off A Witch On Halloween
The fellas stood around awkwardly unsure how to react to such a proclamation. The stranger stood there with a sly grin, waiting for one of them to say something.
“Uh,” Steve finally began, “does ‘the motherfucker who’s going to save the god damned planet’ have a name?”
The stranger took a matchstick and stuck it in his mouth like a toothpick. It dangled from his lips as he said in as cool a tone as he could muster with that high pitched voice, “I do. But most people call me Pyre.”
Colin found himself trying to stifle a laugh. The way ‘Pyre’ said it, Colin had doubts if anybody called him by that name. But Colin kept silence, since he still gave Pyre credit for the way he killed the spider and saved their lives.
“Okay, Pyre,” Steve continued, “and what did you go for as Halloween? A giant spider killing badass?”
Pyre gave a wheezing laugh.
“Ha! I don’t need to dress up as a badass, I play that part every day, motherfucker.”
“And I didn’t go as anything for Halloween. It’s a pointless holiday. Monsters are already plenty real enough, nobody needs to go dressing up as them.”
“Oh, so you noticed the monsters out here tonight,” Pete said dryly.
Pete’s tone apparently irked Pyre who spat back, “No, everyday motherfucker. This shit is real. Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, the Blue Eared Snow Devil of Connecticut.”
“The who?” Pete asked.
“Oh, please. Don’t play dumb. Everyone knows the Blue Eared Snow Devil of Connecticut. But I was on my way to kill the worst monster of all.”
Pyre stopped for effect, showing that grin of his again. He waited for the others to answer.
“Vegans?” Steve remarked.
“Don’t talk shit about vegans, motherfucker. I’m talking about…”
“Witches,” he revealed, with relish, “and there is a whole shit ton of them right down there, motherfuckers.”
Pyre pointed to the Phi Zeta Psi house with his shotgun and the others gasped.
“We were just heading down there!” Pete said.
“Is that what’s there? Fucking witches?” Steve inquired.
Pyre gave a knowing nod, clearly enjoying every second of their conversation.
“Yes. And I am going to kill every last one of them.”
The others looked at each other with unease.
“Kill?” Colin repeated.
“Did I stutter, motherfucker? Kill. With guns, fire and my bare hands if need be.”
“How do you know there are witches there in the first place?” Steve questioned.
“Hah. I come from a long line of witch hunters, we have been stalking and watching this coven for a long time, just waiting to strike.”
“Tell me, motherfuckers, do you guys know about the West Hills Flood of 1889?”
“Sure,” Colin said, “every student knows about that. There are signs all around town that mark where the flood lines were.”
Pyre leaned in and conspiratorially whispered, “Witches.”
“Witches caused the flood of 1889?”
“Yes. Those witches from that very same sorority, motherfucker. My great grandfather and his brother are the reason this whole places still isn’t underwater right now. They caught and killed most of the coven, causing them to surrender and to undo the flood. The few surviving members infiltrated the sorority, again, to corrupt future students and to rebuild the Coven.”
Colin wasn’t sure how to react to this because his brain never expected to hear such sentences uttered together.
Taking the fellas silence as a sign to continue, Pyre continued on.
“I think it’s pretty obvious that the witches are now the reason for everyone’s transformation.”
“Uhh, actually,” Steve said, pointing to Colin, “we think he may have pissed off one of them and that’s why they did this.
Colin shrugged sheepishly.
“Ha!” Pyre jovially laughed, “don’t worry, it isn’t tough to piss one of them off. Women, am I right, motherfuckers?”
“I mean,” Colin said sadly, “I was kind of a dick to her.”
“Don’t ever blame yourself,” Pyre said, pointing at Colin like he was leading him in a motivational seminar, “these witches are pure evil and need to be killed as brutally as possible.”
“Actually, you can probably point out which one you pissed off! I got pictures of them in my glove compartment.”
Pyre went over to the passenger side of his van, punched open the glove compartment, and out fell a pile of pictures kept together by a thick rubber band. Pyre brought it over to Colin and started to sift through them for him.
“How do you, uh, have these?” Colin asked, viewing the pictures. They were exceptionally high quality photographs, obviously taken with an expensive camera. They were often taken from afar, with a bush or tree in the foreground, hinting that Pyre had taken them from some sort of hiding spot.
“Like I said,” Pyre explained, “my family has been tracking these witches for a long time. Need to watch their movements, take pictures, find out their routines.”
“Yeah, that’s normal,” Steve noted, Pyre completely missing the sarcastic tone.
The girls in the pictures were often doing mundane things, like walking down the street with a cup of coffee or talking to a friend on a bench. He vaguely recognized a few of them on campus, but he definitely recognized the girl from the party on the 12th picture.
“That one,” Colin confirmed, pointing at it, “there she is.”
“Ah,” Pyre said, pulling the picture out an inspecting it, “that’s Daphne Hemlock. She’s a tough nut to bust for sure. I’ll save her for you.”
Pyre gave a wink that gave Colin goosebumps.
“So,” Pyre said, throwing the pictures back in the van, “you motherfuckers with me?”
The fellas looked at each other.
“Can you give us a second?” Steve asked. “This isn’t the sort of decision that we’re been forced to make before, believe it or not.”
“Fine. In the meantime, I’ll be in my van, organizing my shotguns and crossbows.”
Pyre climbed into the back of his van while the fellas huddled up like a football team about to go over the Super Bowl winning play.
“So,” Steve started, “any other night I’d probably call the fucking Navy SEALs on this guy, but there’s no reason for us on to believe him about the witches.”
“Aye,” Robby concurred, “there be a foul sorcery in the air t’night, I can feel it in me bones.”
“You know,” Pete said, “I always thought there was something weird about the Phi Zeta Psi girls.”
“Pete,” Steve said with a sigh, “just because a girl doesn’t want to have sex with you doesn’t make her a witch, it makes her a human being with a normal working brain.”
“Oh fuck off,” Pete breathed back, “you know what I mean.”
“I know that this whole witch thing sounds pretty serious, and I know we were planning on going to the sorority house to begin with, but you guys aren’t all in with this guy, right?”
“Why not?” Pete asked, innocently.
“Well his van has a flamethrower and buzzsaw attached to it, for one.”
“Which saved our lives,” Pete defended.
“There is the thick pile of pictures he has of random sorority girls.”
“Witches, you mean!”
Suddenly a loud cocking noise was heard from Pyre’s van, followed by several more.
“All shotguns ready to go, motherfuckers,” Pyre called out, “you pussies decide, yet?”
“Aaaand his van is full of shotguns. And I pretty positive they weren’t just bought a few hours ago, for this occasion alone.”
“Fine, he is a little extreme,” Pete admitted, “but what other choice do we have? You said it yourself, we were planning on going down there to begin with. What, we going to turn him down and then awkwardly follow behind him, hoping he never turns around?”
“I know, that’s what fucking sucks.”
“How about this,” Colin brainstormed, “we go with, but no violence. I’m not ready to take another life tonight. If Pyre wants us, he’ll have to deal with us wanting a peaceful resolution to this night.”
The fellas murmured in agreement and they broke the huddle with a synchronized clap. They stood in front of the van, waiting for Pyre to pop out.
“Alright, Pyre,” Steve announced, “we’ll come with but under one condition.”
Pyre came out of the van, his arms cradling a bundle of shotguns. He stuffed one in the grasp of each of the fellas until he was left with two sawn off shotguns of his own. The fellas limply held the long shotguns and looked at them with detached befuddlement, like they were cavemen who were just handed laptops.
“And what’s the one condition?” Pyre asked ominously.
After the fellas finally tore their gazes away from the shotguns, they looked back at each other, waiting for someone to break the news to Pyre.
“Uh,” Steve stammered, “that you lead the way, of course.”
“As if there was any other plan, motherfucker,” Pyre said, twirling his sawn off shotguns around his fingers. “Let’s kill some witch whores.”
Pyre led them down the street and over to the house, the others reluctantly shuffling behind. Walking behind Pyre revealed that he also had a crossbow and blowtorch strapped to his back.
“Way to stick to your guns,” Colin whispered to Steve.
“I didn’t hear any of you try to talk back to the guy with a half dozen shotguns.”
Colin sighed, realizing Steve was right. There was no turning back now.
They made it to the front of the Phi Zeta Psi house. Now that they were close, they noticed a dim flickering behind the window curtains, hinting at the presence of candles.
“We need to assess the situation,” Pyre commanded, surveying the house, “as well armed as we are, and as well trained as I am, we will need the element of surprise.”
Colin’s eyes looked up to see the second floor window, while leading to pitch black darkness, was open.
“The window up there is open,” Colin pointed out.
“Yeah, that would be helpful,” Steve said with a humorless chuckle, “if one of us could fly.”
They all looked at Steve, the vampire, who was completely unaware of their stares.
“Ahem,” Colin cleared his throat.
“What?” Steve said. “I’m a vampire now, not a helicopter.
“You know vampires turn into bats, right?” Pete asked, helpfully.
“Seriously? You want me to turn into a bat? And fly into that window like a fucking spy drone?”
The others nodded.
“A quick recon sweep would be a good idea,” Pyre stated.
“You guys realize I’ve never been a bat, before, right? Like, never in my life did I have the opportunity to practice that skill.”
“It probably comes naturally,” Colin offered, “Like, how Robby just speaks pirate and like how I could probably be really good at sex all of a sudden. Remember, you are a vampire now.”
Steve shook his head and gave a loud sigh.
“I will give it a shot. Though I don’t know how to fucking turn into a bat.”
“Just think really hard and it’ll happen, probably,” Pete said.
“Aye,” Robby added, “it’d be easy as ol’ Anne Bonny.”
Steve set his shotgun on the ground and closed his eyes. Everyone stiffened with anticipation as his face furrowed in concentration, reddening with each passing second. It looked like he was about to pass out when-
Almost instantly, Steve transformed from his normal body into a disgusting, half human half vampire abomination. His arms had long wings hanging loosely on them, like a couple of torn rags draped over a clothesline. He had a pair of bat ears jutting out of his skull, spurting out blood like a broken sprinkler. His face was a contorted mess, featuring two pairs of eyes and a bat nose jutting out of his skull. His body was a gigantic bat’s body with a pair of normal human legs dangling from it, though they ended in a tiny pair of bat claws. He writhed around in pain, howling at the top of his lungs in a now excruciatingly high pitched voice.
“OH MY GOD I AM IN SO MUCH PAIN RIGHT NOW SOMEBODY FUCKING KILL ME,” he shouted.
Everyone, even Pyre were screaming in horror.
“Turn back, turn back! Quick!” Pete yelled.
“THERE IS NO ‘TURN BACK’ BUTTON YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, JUST SHOOT ME, SHOOT ME.”
Pyre was about to grant him his wish, bringing up his shotguns when Colin came over and stepped in front of him.
“The hell you will!” Colin said, aiming his shotgun right back at Pyre.
“You heard the man,” Pyre said matter of factly, “it’ll be a mercy!”
“Steve, listen, whatever you did to turn yourself into that-”
“OH FUCK FUCK FUCK.”
“-just do it again, except, like, better!”
A loud, sustained wail came from Steve followed by another loud POP.
Colin turned around, though he still left his shotgun trained on Pyre. He saw Steve lying on the grass, his body now back to normal though he looked depleted with exhaustion.
“Ugh,” was Steve could manage.
The others came over to help him out, which he quietly thanked. He rubbed his head, obviously in pain.
“So,” Pyre said, lowering his shotguns, “that was a good learning experience, think you can try it again?”
The others glared at him and he shrugged.
“Fine,” he said, “let’s look for another way in.”
The fellas and Pyre dispersed to search around the house. Pyre, Pete and Robby went around the left side while Steve and Colin went around the right. Steve still appeared to be suffering a hangover from his failed transformation as he wearily trudged around the side of the house.
“That was pretty rough, huh,” Colin sympathized.
“Having my entire body abruptly transform into some sort of unholy creature that would make Kafka shit his pants?” Steve sassed back. “Nah, it felt great, shame I had to change back to normal.”
“Well jeez, no need to get get snippy. It was worth the attempt.”
Colin and Steve couldn’t find any open windows on their side of the house. They were all closed with the shades drawn shut. They did find an old cellar door, but it was locked with a gigantic, rusty padlock.
They eventually circled around to the backyard where they met the others.
“No point of entry for a stealthy infiltration,” Pyre informed them “time for Plan B, motherfuckers.”
“What’s plan-” Colin began to ask, only to stop as he saw Pyre charge shoulder first into the back door.
The back door cracked open, nearly swinging off its hinges. Pyre’s momentum took him into the room it opened into, which looked like a kitchen. He stumbled a bit, but caught his balance.
“-B,” Colin flatly finished, the question no longer needing an answer.
“I thought we were being subtle?” Steve hissed.
“Subtlety is no longer an option, these witches were too prepared for that.”
“It was a couple of locked doors and windows…”
“Exactly. They’re good.”
The kitchen was dark, but the light of the moon angled in through the open doorway and a solitary black candle was lit on the kitchen table. Pyre looked around, his shotguns aimed forward.
“Room clear,” he said and he moved into the next room.
“Thanks for the sit rep,” Steve said, dryly.
Robby went over to the kitchen sink and turned it on.
“What are you doing?” Pete asked.
Robby simply took a flask out of his pocket, poured out the dark brown liquid that was inside (which the fellas assumed was rum) and filled it with the running water instead.
“Water be witches’ weaknesses,” Robby said with a knowing, toothless smile.
“Good thinking,” Colin nodded.
After Robby closed up his flask, they crept into the next room after Pyre. It was a large living room, with couches, a large screen TV, and a coffee table setting on a large throw rug in the middle of it. It was marginally better lit than the kitchen thanks to at least a dozen more black candles that were situated all over the room, bathing the room in an eerie orange glow.
“Room clear,” Pyre said, yet again.
“What would we do without him,” Steve whispered to Colin with a playful nudge.
The process continued throughout the house. They searched the rest of the first floor rooms (two large bedrooms and a bathroom) and the second floor (three more bedrooms, another bathroom, and a study). No one was around, the only hint of human life being the randomly placed candles.
“Such a careless fire hazard,” Pete admonished as they came back to the living room.
“Where the hell are they?” Steve asked.
Pyre angrily stormed around the room, looking fruitlessly for some sort of clue.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Pyre said, picking up lamps and chucking them over his shoulder, as if the witches would be hiding underneath them.
Colin was exhausted, his arms sore from holding his shotgun. He tried to stretch them outwards, hearing them creak as he did. The others appeared just as tired, especially Steve.
“Fuck you guys for making me try that bat thing,” he said as he went over to the coffee table and sat down on it. He leaned his shotgun against it and put his head in his hands. There was loud squeaking sound and the coffee table gave out from beneath Steve, falling apart into pieces as Steve plunked down onto the ground.
“Shit!” Steve said, rubbing his buttocks.
“Quit fooling around!” Pyre rasped at Steve.
Steve continued to rubbing his bottom, wincing in pain.
“Man, my ass fell on something fucking hard,” he said.
“Is that the excuse you always use?” Colin asked.
Steve ignored him, instead standing up and clearing the debris from the splintered coffee table off the rug. He then examined the rug and said, “Look here, a bump in the rug.”
He felt the bump and then grabbed an end of the rug, lifting it off the floor to reveal what was beneath it. Under the rug was a large trap door with a bulk ringed handle. The handle was the bump that had poked Steve’s bottom.
“Ha!” Pyre chortled, “Look at that motherfuckers! Those damn witches couldn’t outsmart us.”
“Yeah, my ass is the world’s greatest detective,” Steve commented, kneeling down next to the trap door.
“We’re going down there?” Pete asked fearfully.
“Why the hell else did we come?” Steve replied.
“Yeah,” Pyre chided, “you better not be skipping out on us now, motherfucker.”
Steve leaned his ear down to the door and listened.
“I think I hear something. Sounds like voices. Muffled, though. You guys ready?”
“Oh fuck this,” Pyre said, coming forward and knocking Steve aside, “enough of this pussyfooting.”
Pyre roughly grabbed the door handle, twisted it and pulled upwards. The door gave a loud groan as it snapped open. Pyre set the door down and looked into the hole that was now exposed in the floor. The others could see that there was a ladder that led downwards into darkness.
“I definitely hear something,” Pyre told the others, his head still stuck down into the hole, “Looks like more candles down there, too. Let’s do this motherfuckers.”
Pyre holstered his shotguns underneath his trench coat and descended down the ladder, his footsteps clanking out of earshot.
“Last chance to bounce,” Steve said.
“No,” Colin declared, “we came this far. And besides, remember. Daphne told us to come here through Tammy.”
“Just asking,” he said as he slung his shotgun strap over his shoulder. He stepped onto the first rung of the ladder and he too he disappeared from view.
The other fellas followed after, Colin going last. As Colin climbed down into the cool darkness beneath the house, he smelled a musty smell, like mothballs. It was practically suffocating as he made it to the damp earth floor. He turned from the ladder to see a narrow hallway, lined with candles leading to a wooden door where the others had congregated. Colin met up with them and saw Pyre with his ear against the door. Now Colin could hear voices from the other side, softly chanting something in unison. He couldn’t make out the words, but it still sent a shiver down his back.
Pyre turned to the others and mouthed, “Ready to go, motherfuckers?”
The fellas barely read his lips, so they stood awkwardly without giving an answer. Pyre didn’t need one however. He reared back his leg and kicked the door open, revealing the room within.
It was a large chamber, dozens of candles all strewn across the floor. In the center of the room was a huge cauldron, filled with some sort of dark liquid that was quietly simmering. Surrounding the cauldron were 13 women, all clothed in black robes and wearing pointy hats, just as the girl who Colin met at the party. In the effulgence of the candles, Colin recognized Daphne among the other witches and his pulse sped off like an out of control drag racer.
“HAPPY HALLOWEEN, MOTHERFUCKERS,” Pyre yelled, firing his shotguns wildly. The witches looked over at Pyre, who aimed his shotguns down towards the coven. The witches, seemingly prepared for the entrance, withdrew wands from their robes and aimed them into the air. Bolts of lightning shot out and started to dance around the witches, bouncing off of each other and branching into more lightning bolts. Within seconds there were hundreds of bolts circling the witches, creating a sort of force field.
Pyre shot at this lightning bolt dome that the witches had formed, his buckshot ricocheting off their defenses harmlessly. Pyre screamed louder, as if that would strengthen the power of his shotguns. From within the force field, Colin saw that Daphne now aimed her wand at Pyre, who had tossed his empty shotguns aside in exchange for the crossbow on his back.
A green light shot from Daphne’s wand, through the lightning bolts, across the chamber and connected with Pyre. The light engulfed Pyre who dropped his crossbow to the ground. Pyre then abruptly disappeared, those his clothes remained. They were airborne for a second before falling to the ground in a messy pile.
Colin thought Daphne had made Pyre completely vanish when a croaking sound was heard from within Pyre’s pile of clothes. Out from the clothing hopped a frog, which Colin surmised, with horror, had once been Pyre.
The frog looked down at its webbed feet and said, in Pyre’s voice, “A frog? Seriously? Where did you motherfuckers graduate from? Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Cliches?”
Pyre hopped towards his crossbow and then tried to push it in what seemed to be a vain attempt to aim it towards the witches. Daphne started towards Pyre, the lightning bolts dissipating as she walked through them. Pyre continued to clumsily try and aim the crossbow at his enemies as Daphne came to him.
When she came within a few feet of Pyre and the fellas, Robby grabbed his flask, opened it and threw its contents on Daphne. “Thar she blows!” he yelled as the wave of water hit the witch. Everyone expected her to start bubbling and screaming in melting, but instead he just looked drenched and confused.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she asked, puzzled.
“Uh,” Robby replied, “killing you?”
She shook her head and shook out some of the water. She was now towering above Pyre, who still struggled with the much bigger crossbow. She stooped down and grabbed him.
“Gah!” Pyre croaked, helplessly, “Let go, motherfucker, I was so close to getting that thing to work!”
Daphne ignored him, instead heading over to a large set of shelves that were on the wall. The bottom shelf was lined with books while the top shelf was crammed with all kinds of creepy looking things and ingredients. Colin saw a severed eagle’s foot, a jar full of eyeballs and dried bat wings stuffed in a bag like beef jerky.
Daphne snatched an empty jar off the top shelf and threw Pyre inside of it. She closed the jar with a lid and stuff it on the shelf. She then took a book from the bottom shelf and placed it on top of the jar to weigh it down. Pyre knocked against the jar, his mouth moving but no sounds being heard. He even tried to shoot his tongue out at the jar to try and knock it over, but it barely shifted.
Daphne dusted off her hands and turned back to the fellas, who had watched the whole proceedings unfold in frozen terror. Their shotguns all fell to the ground simultaneously as Daphne gave a twisted smile.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” she teased.
The other witches cackled as Daphne moved back to join them. Their heads were all turned to look at the fellas who were still rooted to their spots from fear.
“Uhh,” Steve said as the witches’ laughter died down, “technically, Colin is the one who pissed you guys off, right?”
Steve pointed to Colin, whose head whipped over to glare at Steve. Steve shrugged and Colin slumped, realizing Steve was right.
“He’s right,” Colin admitted, “you guys should punish me. There was no reason to punish, you know, the whole world.”
“Ha,” Daphne guffawed, “don’t flatter yourself. It wasn’t just you. You were merely the straw that broke the camel’s back. This has been a decision years in the making. For far too long have we been demeaned by everyone, especially men like you.”
The fellas sheepishly shifted, uncomfortable at these accusations.
“Catcalling as we walk through campus,” Daphne continued, “the constant stereotyping that sorority girls are ditzes, the rumors of us sleeping around, being called sluts and whores behind our backs.”
“We never did that!” Colin pleaded. “Look, I know I screwed up back at that party, I was kind of a prick to you. But, we’re good guys, and there are plenty of good guys out there. Just please, send things back to normal! Reverse whatever curse you placed on us!”
“Aye!” Robby cheered, “Have some mercy on us scurvy dogs!”
Daphne rolled her eyes.
“Oh don’t worry,” she said, “we plan on reversing things. We’re already brewing the necessary ingredients to do so.”
She motioned towards the simmering cauldron and she began to recite what the potion apparently consisted of:
“One pound dragonfly wings, four snake tongues, eight bat wings, two sets of fish eyes.”
She came over to the cauldron and started to stir it with a long spoon that rested within it. She continued:
“An owl’s beak, a dozen berries from the lily of the valley plant, five petals of wolf’s bane flower and-”
She stopped stirring and looked back at Colin.
“-the blood of a virgin.”
The fellas all perked up. The witches all smiled proudly at the development and Steve was the first one with the courage to speak up.
“So a virgin,” he said, “as in, if one of us is a virgin, we just have to give you some blood.”
Daphne nodded once, her smile never fading.
“That’s not too bad,” Colin said, a little relieved, “if it means ending this madness.”
“Oh,” Daphne said, playfully slapping the side of her head, “stupid me, I forgot something. The blood of a slain virgin.”
The fellas all gulped.
“Slain?” Colin asked, “as in, slain slain? Like dead? Killed?”
Daphne once again nodded, her smile growing impossibly wide.
“Well,” Colin said, turning to the fellas, “this sucks.”
“Which one of us is a virgin?” Pete asked.
“Come on,” Pete said, “be honest.”
“Speak for yourself, asshole!” Steve shot back. “We all know you’re a virgin.”
“What? I’ve gotten blow jobs! Like, lots of them!”
“You got one that you ever told us about, and hey, guess what, still makes you a fucking virgin.”
“Dammit, I thought I found a loophole. Robby?”
Robby shook his head solemnly.
“Aye,” he confessed, “ol’ Robby has never had his decks swabbed.”
“Steve?” Pete asked.
“Oh fuck off, you know I’m a virgin.”
“That leaves Colin,” Pete said. Everyone turned towards him expectantly.
“Yeah,” Colin revealed with embarrassment, “virgin. You guys knew that.”
“So all of us are virgins,” Steve summarized.
“Wow,” Daphne said, shaking her head, “that’s kind of pathetic. I mean, we all expected one of you, maybe two, to be a virgin, but jeez, all of you? Christ, I almost feel bad about this now.”
“Now we just have to decide who gets unceremoniously killed for the good of the planet,” Steve heavily stated.
Colin once again felt eyes peering at him.
“Me?” he said, his voice shaking.
“Well, you are an English major,” he said, “What kind of life awaits you after college, anyway?”
“Brutal, man,” Colin said, the lump in his throat swelling.
“Fuck this,” Pete said, “I’ll do it. I’d rather die than live in a world where I forced one of my best friends to be sacrificed like a lamb.”
Robby put his hand on Pete and shook his head.
“Enough o’ that speak,” he said, “let ol’ Robby commit the act. Just promise to dump me body in the ol’ salty sea that I loved so much.”
“You guys are making me feel like a dick,” Steve said, “let me do it. I was an asshole for offering Colin like that.”
“Oh my God, just pick someone!” Daphne impatiently wailed.
“Fellas,” Colin said, the lump in his throat finally bursting, and tears coming down his cheeks, “this was all my fault. If I hadn’t been a prick to Daphne, we wouldn’t be here. We’d be off at some party, trying to hit on chicks and failing horribly.”
Nods of agreement as the others started to tear up as well.
“It has to be me,” he continued, “Daphne sought me out through Tammy and now we’re here. This is how it has to be. Besides, I killed
Connie with a bathroom plunger. Dunno how I won’t have PTSD after something like that.”
They all stretched out their arms and gave a firm, heartfelt group hug. They began to sob quietly.
“Gay,” Daphne insulted.
They released and Colin wiped the tears off his cheeks. He made his way towards the circle of witches, who all started to chant under their breaths.
Daphne raised her wands at the others who stayed back and said, “And just so you assholes don’t try anything…”
Three separate rays of light shot out at Robby, Steve and Pete, the lights turning into ropes which magically bound themselves to the fellas legs and hands. They fell over, losing their balances and were now stuck on the floor, forced to helplessly watch their friend get murdered.
Colin realized trying to help them would do nothing, so he continued towards Daphne , who waited by the cauldron. She revealed a shimmering, jagged knife from one of the pockets of her robes. Her malicious grin sent a spear of hatred and fear through Colin’s heart.
And to think, Colin thought, I used to love Boston accents.
He made it to the cauldron and saw the dark green brew within it. She took his head by his hair and held it over the open face of the cauldron. She pulled upwards so that his neck was fully exposed. She was going to slit his throat and let the contents spill out.
“And now,” she thundered, her malevolent voice suddenly now powerful, “to complete the antidote to this curse, I offer the blood of a slain virgin.”
Colin saw the knife close in on his neck and he shut his neck. Before the blade could reach its destination, however, a loud crash came from the side of the room. It was the sound of glass breaking and a heavy object hitting the floor. Colin felt Daphne’s grasp loosen on his hair, so he wriggled out and opened his eyes to see what had made the sound.
It was Pyre, who had finally managed to push his jar prison off the shelf, breaking it into dozens of tiny shards. He bounded towards
Daphne and Colin, and in one large leap he sailed through the air, hurtling towards Daphne.
“SURPRISE, MOTHERFUCKER!” he hooted, landing on Daphne’s face. He swatted her with webbed feet, making pathetic wet, slapping sounds with each strike. The other witches had stopped their chant and started to equip their wands to aid Daphne.
Daphne reached up and tried to tear Pyre off her face but his sticky hands remained steadfast. One of the witches shot a red bolt of energy at Pyre, which grazed him just enough to cause him to flip over and off of Daphne’s face. Just as this happened, Daphne flailed, her hand with the knife arcing in the air. Pyre’s trajectory just happened to intersect with the knife and he gave a throaty cry of pain as the knife sliced open his stomach. Pyre pathetically dropped down, twirling in the air, leaving a stream of blood behind him like a plane’s vapor trail. His downward path had him heading straight towards the cauldron, which he landed in with a splash.
Daphne, who had stopped thrashing her arms after realizing Pyre was finally off her face, looked at Pyre’s frog body, sinking into the concoction, his body bleeding freely.
“Well,” she said, “shit.”
The potion inside began to froth and boil wildly, the dark green liquid beginning to glow and turn a bright neon color. It started to steam and hiss and it looked like it was dangerously close to overflowing.
“Wait,” Pete called from the end of the room, “does that mean Pyre was a virgin?”
“Why does that surprise you?” Steve retorted.
The potion continued to stew violently, the bubbles inside it growing to the size of watermelons and bursting with loud pop sounds.
“If he was a virgin,” Colin said, “does that mean it’s going to still work? Will it-”
Colin was caught off by a deafening sound of the earth tearing apart and then there was complete and utter darkness.
Colin’s mind floated around in the darkness, vaguely aware of its own existence. He hazily and sleepily tried to navigate the darkness, hovering around like a drunken house fly. Suddenly, he froze and hung in mid air like Wile E. Coyote in a Looney Toons cartoon before freefalling through the darkness, deeper and deeper until-
Colin’s eyes shot open and he jumped. He found himself in his bed, in his apartment, his body dripping with sweat. His head pounded like a bass drum and as he looked at his surroundings, he felt a nauseating sense of dizziness.
Holy shit, he thought, am I hungover.
He rubbed his bleary eyes and sat up in bed. He reached for his phone and looked at the screen to see what time it was.
9:34 a.m., October 31st.
It was Halloween morning.
Colin shook the cobwebs out of his head. He didn’t remember anything from the night before. Where had he and the fellas gone? Out to drink? They must have. Must have gotten blackout drunk and ended up back in bed. Colin was fully clothed, jeans and a Dropkick Murphys T-shirt, which often happened when he passed out after a night of drinking.
He got out of bed and lumbered out of his bedroom, anxious to find out what the fellas knew. They too were all leaving their bedrooms, looking positively demolished from the night before. Their eyes were all bloodshot and looked weighed down by the bags beneath them.
“Okay,” Steve said, “what the fuck happened last night? Did I take an enema of vodka or something?”
“I dunno,” Pete said, holding his head, “but my head is blaring. We went out, right?”
“From what I remember,” Robby said, “didn’t we go to the bar? I can barely think.”
“Jesus, did we all get wasted to the point of blacking out?” Colin asked. The fellas loved their share of alcohol, but even that seemed to be going overboard.
“I guess so,” Steve shrugged, “but we better recover quickly. Fucking Halloween tonight, fellas.”
The others gave some excited words of agreement and headed back to their bed rooms. Colin was pumped for Halloween. He went into his closet and saw his costume hanging there, untouched. He grinned at the 70s porn star get up he had personally pieced together from thrift store shopping. He couldn’t wait to try it on tonight, especially the fake moustache.
He went back to his phone and started to craft a text message for his crush, Connie.
Heeey! Halloween tonight! Hopefully I’ll get to see you!
Colin started to change out of his clothes to put on a brand new shirt and pair of jeans. He went out and brushed his teeth and asked the fellas, who were also out and about, if they were wanted to grab some breakfast.
“Sounds like a fucking plan,” Steve said, “I could use something greasy. A ton of sausages or something.”
“Of course you would want that,” Colin joked.
“Man,” Pete spoke up, “whatever I eat, I hope it cures this hangover. I don’t want anything ruining my Halloween.”
“Get a costume, yet?” Robby asked.
“Just wait,” Pete said with a mischievous grin, “I’ve got something pretty damn clever.”
They all groaned, positively sure that whatever Pete had, it wasn’t clever at all.
Colin went back to his bedroom to retrieve his phone and he saw Connie had sent a reply.
Haha yep, should be fun. I’ll keep an eye out for you.
Colin smiled. Random blackout drunk hangover or not, it was going to be a fun Halloween.
Or so he thought.
Ten hours later, it was Halloween night at West Hills University, which meant that instead of going out to get drunk and make bad decisions, the students of the school decided to go out and get drunk and make bad decisions while dressed in costume…