Butchered After Bark

inn with Emmie?”
“Sort of.” It’s actually the other way around, but no need to let my ego loose tonight. Judging by the screams, there are enough monsters among us. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Oh no, I’ve already talked to Emmie. I’m doing a makeup tutorial with the guests as soon as I can fit it into my schedule. I guess she and her assistant Georgie have an entire slew of Halloween-themed activities lined up for the month. But I’m guessing the haunted doll collection is going to be the biggest hit.” She takes a moment to snarl at the doll taking up residence in my left arm. “That’s the creepiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I work in a dive bar.”
A titter of laughter breaks out in our circle, and I’m slow to join in.
Blair nods to Sabrina. “We should get going. There’s a lot we need to get done tonight.” Just because the word midnight is in our name, doesn’t mean we need to start in the middle of the night. As soon as I can get this over with, I plan on hunting down that rat’s hind end and teaching him a lesson.
My mouth falls open. I bet that rat’s hind end is the man in the trench coat. It’s nice to see she’s not letting him off so easily for shaking her like that. I hate to see any woman treated that way.
And what did she mean by they have the word midnight in their name?
Sabrina forces a smile, but it doesn’t last long.
“All right, Blair, let’s get this show on the road.” I’ve got a show of my own I’d like to put on—with you in private. There’s no way I’m letting you get away with this.
The three of them take off in a chatty flurry.
“Get away with what?” I whisper.
I don’t know what you’re talking about, Fish mewls. But I smell trouble.
Sherlock gives a few sharp barks. Me too, Bizzy. And I’d much rather smell some bacon.
The three of us take off, doing our best to find Jasper, Georgie, and Juni, but it’s a three-way bust all the way around.
Down at the far end of the field, just past the rides and the bustle of bodies, I spot Blair and Tabitha, the woman dressed as a librarian, and judging by the way their limbs are gesticulating, Tabitha is about to knock Blair over the head with that book of hers.
I wander around for another twenty minutes straight, like a lost child right here at my own inn. I left my phone in my purse, which I left in the car, so I’m completely reliant on the old school method of tracking people down on foot. Come to find out, the old school method is nothing but an exhausting exercise in futility.
The music hikes up a notch, as do the screams of those unlucky enough to take part in this frightmare, and ironically, so does the headache I’m brewing.
I can’t go ten steps without bumping into some costumed creature howling in my face, trying to get a rise out of me. My only defense seems to be rattling Annabeth in their face, and before you know it, their screams seem a heck of a lot more genuine. Every man and woman here seems to be dressed in an array of gory costumes, and each and every one of them seems to be armed with intimidating modes of weaponry I’m not all that familiar with.
Something blue glows over the small mountain of hay lying out in the distal end of the clearing, and I head that way. God forbid we have a fire on our hands, but as I get closer, I can see it’s the moonlight illuminating the landscape. I spot something on the ground in the shape of a person and my heart lurches in my chest.
“It looks like a scarecrow got knocked over,” I say to Fish and Sherlock as the din of voices and the music grow increasingly faint the further I get. “Why do I get the feeling this is the only place at the inn without any chaos?”
Sherlock heads over to that scarecrow and lets out a sharp bark. I think I found chaos, Bizzy.
I hold up the doll in front of me. “You go first, Annabelle,” I say, only partly teasing. It’s downright creepy out here all by my lonesome, even if I did bring my furry menagerie along. A part of me is expecting a man with a hockey mask to jump out from that mountain of hay and slice my head off.
I make my way over to inspect the human form on the ground, and to my surprise I spot Sprinkles shivering next to that bloodied scarecrow.
“Hey, girl,” I say softly. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a silly old scarecrow, see?” I kick it lightly to prove a point, but it feels far more solid than any scarecrow I’ve ever felt.
The head of the doll in my hand snaps my way, and I’d bet my life her eerie smile just widened a notch.
“Geez!” I howl as I hold the haunted thing away from me, and when I do, I happen to see a familiar face looking up from the ground.
A scream gets locked in my throat.
That’s no scarecrow.
Lying in a pool of sanguine liquid with a bloody blade nearby is a woman with her face pointed at the sky.
I recognize that blonde hair, that slightly turned-up nose.
It looks as if Blair won’t have a chance to teach that rat’s hind end a lesson tonight, after all.
Blair Bates is dead.

Chapter 3
Dead.
Another body in Cider Cove. This can’t be happening.
Fish yowls as she jumps from my arms and bolts, while the poor Yorkie shivers uncontrollably.
My eyes quickly survey the scene. Crushed and bloodied hay to the left, footprints that look as if they were engaged in some sort of a struggle all around, the trail of something green that leads