Dead End: Midnight Hollow by Penn Cassidy (best e reader for epub txt) 📕

“Jessica, now’s not the time,” I murmured, my head still spinning.

“Just trying to lighten things up. Sheesh,” she grumbled with a pout. I ignored her.

“Are we going in or what?” snapped Jason in a deep voice, pushing past me and jostling Jessica. I had to reach up and hold her still before she slid right off. He stormed up the wooden staircase that led to the front door. Turning around, he met my eyes with a scowl. “This weird shit has your name all over it, Morticia. Fix it. Now.”

My heart sank, but I only glared right back at him. “You think this is my fault?” I laughed, and it might have sounded a little crazy as it spilled past my lips. “You think this is some kind of prank or something? I think you overestimate how much I care about your existence in the first place. I wouldn’t waste my time.”

Every word out of my mouth was a damn lie, but he didn’t know that. For all he knew, I really didn’t care about him or the other guys anymore. For all he knew—for all I let him know—I hated them now. No reason, no explanation. I tried not to see the flash of hurt in his eyes, but it was there before he could hide it.

“Just come on. If anyone can explain what the fuck happened to our town, it’s your weird ass family.” Turning back to the door, Jason crossed his arms over his wide chest and waited.

Thank you, October, for saving my ass from the big scary clowns…

Yeah right, like I’d ever hear those words. But he was sort of right, once again. Auntie Fe and Auntie Pip were sort of the unofficial aunties for the whole town. Everyone loved them and they loved everyone, even if people thought they were a little odd. When we were kids, I used to have birthday parties at the auntie’s house, and all the kids from school came mainly because they were curious about the inside of the manor.

Pip had always tried to bake me the most elaborate birthday cakes, even though it always ended up being a huge disaster, but their parties were the talk of the town. It made sense that the guys still looked to them for guidance, since they’d known the aunties their whole lives, too.

“It’s okay, Toby,” Jessica whispered, too softly for everyone else to hear and quickly picking up on my nickname. “The aunties can help, I promise.” For some reason, I felt like I could trust her, as ridiculous as that sounded.

Steeling myself for more weirdness, I made my way up the stairs and stopped at the threshold, staring at the most peculiar door knocker. It was a cat with a curling tail wrapped around what looked like a cauldron. The handle of the cauldron was fashioned into a knocker. I didn’t bother with it. I just tried the handle, and to my surprise, the massive wooden door swung open with an audible squeak.

My eyes met Jason’s. We were standing shoulder to shoulder. He looked worried, and for the first time in a while, I saw something other than stark anger and resentment on his face. A sudden image of his dead body, sprawled out lifeless in that bus, skittered through my memory. My heart gave a painful squeeze, and I glanced away before he could see it in my eyes.

I took the lead, crossing the threshold of the house. Immediately, the warm scent of cinnamon, spice, and sage hit me. It was the first familiar thing I’d encountered since waking up, probably the only familiar thing, because the house looked like something straight out of a movie. I gaped at the lit candles flickering on every available surface. The walls were covered in some kind of metallic floral and vine wallpaper that looked more at home in the Victorian era. The flames played along the shimmering golden surface like magic.

The floors were made of blackened oak, and strange lighting fixtures hung from the ceilings. They looked like real lanterns and cast the whole room in a low ambient glow. There were tables everywhere, covered in multicolored bottles filled with unknown powders and liquids and stopped with tiny corks. Plants hung from the banister, and bookshelves lined the sitting room on either side of the huge fireplace. On the shelves were large tomes, some of them without titles on the dusty spines.

The others followed behind me as I made my way towards the kitchen. The layout of the house was exactly as I knew it should be, but I hardly recognized a thing.

“Did you guys do some redecorating?” Maddie asked me hesitantly.

I glanced at her with a raised brow. “We’ve only been gone a few hours. There’s no way.”

“I know, I know,” she sighed, fidgeting with her hair again. “I’m trying not to freak out here.”

“Looks the same to me,” Jessica mused aloud again. No one bothered to respond.

“Are your aunties even home?” asked Michael, speaking up for the first time. He was right behind me when I spun around, but his eyes were scanning the house, taking note of all the differences since the last time he’d been here for the memorial service. Suddenly, it seemed like a million years ago.

“They’re always home,” I whispered, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

You could run from your past, but it always caught up to you eventually.

My aunties were homebodies. Both only about fifty years young, but they ran their own businesses straight from our home. Auntie Fe sold her medicinal teas, which pretty much everyone in town flocked to buy every time someone came down with an illness, while Auntie Pip grew herbs to sell at the farmer’s market.

“Is that my pumpkin girl I hear?!” came a familiar voice from the direction of the kitchen. Something tight loosened in my chest at the mere sound of Auntie Pip’s voice.

The soft thuds of her bare feet carried her closer, and