The House Wasn't Haunted

Shira, Sumi, and Freya: A Halloween Special

---

Freya had been Athena for seventeen minutes when someone handed her a clipboard.

This was not among the goddess's traditional responsibilities.

"Could you manage the queue for a moment?" the woman asked.

Freya looked down at the clipboard.

There were twenty-six names, three columns, and no indication of what any of them meant.

"What am I managing?"

"The queue."

"Yes. For what?"

"The haunted house."

"Is there a capacity limit?"

"Forty, I think."

"You think?"

The woman looked toward the building behind her.

"Look, I'm sorry. We're having a difficult evening."

Freya examined the clipboard again.

She could already see four things wrong with it.

This was irritating.

She had not come to the Halloween festival to correct administrative deficiencies.

She had come because Sumi had purchased three tickets in August and announced, at dinner, that October thirty-first was now a contractual obligation.

Shira had objected.

Freya had pointed out that they were not contracts.

Sumi had explained that the tickets were nonrefundable.

Freya had asked how much they cost.

Shira had looked at her.

"Don't."

Freya had asked anyway.

And now she was standing outside a century-old theater wearing an ivory-and-gold costume, carrying a ceremonial spear, and attempting to determine whether the number twenty-six meant tickets sold, visitors admitted, or a theoretical estimate of the number of people currently hiding in the building.

"Are you an accountant?" the woman asked.

"No."

"You seem good with numbers."

"I haven't done anything."

"You asked about capacity."

Freya looked at her.

The woman looked exhausted.

"Please?"

Freya sighed.

"Who's responsible for admissions?"

"Me."

"And you're going where?"

"To find our missing vampire."

Freya considered this.

"Is that a staffing position?"

"Unfortunately."

The woman hurried away.

Freya stood alone with the clipboard.

For several seconds, she did nothing.

Then she found a pen.

---

The Halloween festival occupied six blocks of the old downtown district.

Strings of orange lights crossed the streets. Paper bats hung from lampposts. Shop windows displayed elaborate arrangements of pumpkins, skeletons, artificial cobwebs, and objects that had clearly been purchased without anyone considering how they might look together.

A bakery had built a life-sized witch entirely from bread.

Sumi had photographed it nine times.

The evening was cool enough for jackets, although nobody seemed particularly interested in wearing one. Music drifted between the buildings, interrupted occasionally by laughter, screams, and the hollow sound of a plastic skeleton falling against something expensive.

The three friends had arrived together.

Sumi had immediately declared it the most beautiful evening of her life.

Shira had pointed out that she'd said the same thing about a bowl of ramen on Tuesday.

"That was different."

"How?"

"It had noodles."

Shira had accepted this.

Their costumes attracted attention before they'd even reached the first intersection.

Sumi was dressed as a devil.

Not a particularly convincing devil.

She wore an elaborate red-and-black costume with lace, ribbons, small red horns, little bat wings, and a pointed tail that occasionally caught on nearby objects. Her long dark hair was gathered with red ruffled scrunchies, and a delicate gold necklace with a red heart rested at her collarbone.

She carried a glossy red trident.

She had spent the entire afternoon practicing an evil laugh.

It sounded like someone discovering a puppy.

Shira had informed her of this.

Sumi had been delighted.

"That's even better!"

"How?"

"Because nobody will expect it!"

"Expect what?"

"EVIL."

She had demonstrated the laugh again.

A woman passing with a stroller had smiled at her.

Shira had closed her eyes.

Freya had chosen Athena.

The costume had been an unexpected decision.

Originally, she'd intended to wear an old rowing jersey and tell people she was an Olympic athlete.

Shira had informed her that this was not a costume.

"It could be."

"You own the jersey."

"That doesn't disqualify it."

"You wore it yesterday."

Freya had considered dressing as a race car driver instead. She admired several women in motorsport, although she maintained that driving around a track was an inefficient way to travel between two points.

"That's not the point of racing," Shira had said.

"I know. That's part of my objection."

Then she'd discovered the Athena costume.

It was white and gold, with a draped Grecian dress, fitted gold armor-inspired pieces, intricate bracers, a dark-blue cape, and a laurel crown. A decorative shield bore an embossed owl, and the spear was made from lightweight materials that Freya had tested for balance before leaving the apartment.

She had chosen it because Athena represented wisdom, strategy, disciplined courage, and just warfare.

She had also chosen it because she looked fantastic.

This second reason had received considerably less discussion.

Shira, meanwhile, had arrived in a black-and-crimson gothic cheerleader outfit that looked as though a late-2000s post-hardcore band had been given responsibility for designing school uniforms.

There were plaid panels, black lace, fishnet sleeves, buckles, chains, tall boots, and two enormous black-and-red pom-poms. Silver heartagram earrings hung beneath her long, dark hair.

A small gothic emblem adorned the front.

She had made it herself after rejecting three commercially available designs.

Freya knew this because Shira had spent two evenings complaining about their typography.

"You look incredible," Sumi had told her.

"Thank you."

Sumi had stopped walking.

Freya had turned.

Shira looked between them.

"What?"

"You just said thank you," Sumi said.

"That's the customary response."

"You didn't threaten me!"

"Would you prefer that?"

"No!"

"Then enjoy the improvement."

Sumi had thrown her arms around her.

Shira had endured the embrace.

Then she had lifted one pom-pom and gently pushed Sumi away.

"Personal space."

"You're so cool."

"Unfortunately."

And they had continued toward the festival.

---

The theater was called the Arcadia.

Its narrow brick facade stood between a bookstore and a former bank, with an old-fashioned marquee extending over the sidewalk.

The original illuminated lettering had been replaced with a painted banner:

THE ARCADIA HAUNTED HOUSE

ONE NIGHT ONLY

PROCEEDS SUPPORT THE THEATER RESTORATION FUND

A smaller sign promised:

THE MOST TERRIFYING EXPERIENCE IN TOWN!

Beneath it, someone had added in marker:

FAMILY FRIENDLY!

Shira had stopped to examine the signs.

"Those are contradictory."

Sumi had looked at the building.

"Oh, we have to go."

"No," Shira said.

"Why?"

"Because it says family friendly."

"That's good!"

"It's a haunted house."

"Families can be haunted."

"Not usually as an organized recreational activity."

Freya had checked the festival program.

"There's a twenty-minute estimated wait."

Sumi had looked delighted.

"Perfect!"

"Why is waiting perfect?"

"It means it's popular!"

A family emerged from the theater's entrance.

A little boy was carrying a plastic sword. His younger sister wore a princess costume and a pair of vampire fangs.

Their father was smiling.

"How was it?" Sumi asked.

The father considered.

"Very nice."

Shira looked at him.

"Nice?"

"Yeah. Lovely old building."

"Was it frightening?"

The little girl shook her head.

"The ghost told me to have a good evening."

Shira stared.

The family continued down the sidewalk.

Sumi smiled.

"That's sweet."

Shira looked toward the theater.

"Something is deeply wrong here."

That was when the woman with the clipboard appeared.

Her name, they subsequently learned, was Mara Bell.

She was the volunteer coordinator for the Arcadia restoration committee and had spent the previous two months arranging the haunted attraction.

She had also spent the previous two hours watching it deteriorate.

One performer was sick. Another had gone home after a disagreement about whether the fake blood was washable. Two had been recruited to help with a parade and had not returned. The remaining volunteers were struggling to operate several elaborate effects installed by a local theater group.

The sound system worked intermittently.

The lighting cues were late.

One mechanical skeleton had developed a persistent habit of waving cheerfully at guests.

And visitors were describing the experience as pleasant.

"Pleasant," Mara repeated.

She made the word sound medically concerning.

Sumi clasped her hands.

"We could help!"

Freya looked up from the clipboard.

"No."

"We're already dressed up!"

"We're attending the festival."

"Exactly!"

"Those are different things."

Mara looked at them.

"Do you have theater experience?"

"No," Freya said.

"Some," Shira said.

Freya turned.

"You do?"

"I did stage crew in high school."

"You never mentioned that."

"You never asked."

"Why didn't you continue?"

Shira looked toward the theater entrance.

"People kept talking to me."

Mara looked at her cheerleader outfit.

"Would you be willing to perform?"

Shira considered.

"What's the soundtrack?"

Mara hesitated.

Shira's expression changed.

It was a very small change.

"Show me."

---

Inside, the Arcadia smelled of old wood, dust, artificial fog, and something that might once have been popcorn.

Its lobby retained much of its original decoration. Gold-painted plasterwork framed the ceiling. Dark red carpet covered the floor. Photographs of actors and musicians lined the walls beside advertisements for performances that had taken place decades earlier.

The theater itself had been divided into a series of temporary haunted rooms.

A winding passage led from the lobby into the auditorium, through a section of false walls built across the seating area, then around the wings and backstage corridors before returning visitors to the lobby.

A large sign identified the attraction as:

THE CURSE OF THE ARCADIA

Beneath it was a lengthy explanation involving a vanished magician, a jealous soprano, a cursed mirror, and an unfortunate incident with a chandelier.

Shira read the first paragraph.

Then the second.

Then looked at Mara.

"Who wrote this?"

"The volunteers."

"All of them?"

"Mostly."

"That explains the narrative."

Mara sighed.

"We had a lot of ideas."

"I can tell."

At the entrance to the first room, a mechanical skeleton jerked upright.

Its jaw opened.

"BOO," it announced.

Then its left arm rose.

It waved.

Sumi screamed with delight.

"HI!"

The skeleton continued waving.

A small motor inside its chest made a noise resembling a coffee grinder full of coins.

Shira stared at it.

"He's doing his best."

Freya examined the mechanism.

"The motion timing is wrong."

"The entire concept is wrong," Shira said.

"That can also be corrected."

"No, Freya. I mean he shouldn't announce the scare before it happens."

Mara looked between them.

"Would you like to see the rest?"

"Yes," Freya said.

"No," Shira said.

Sumi was already following the skeleton's waving arm.

They continued.

The second room contained a fog machine, a coffin, and a volunteer dressed as a vampire who appeared deeply uncomfortable with the assignment.

"Welcome," he said.

A pause.

"To your doom."

Sumi applauded.

The vampire looked grateful.

In the third room, a woman wearing a ghost costume stood beside a painted grave.

"Beware," she said.

Then, after a moment:

"Please watch the step."

Freya looked down.

There was a raised platform.

"That needs a warning marker."

"Agreed," Shira said.

Freya looked at her.

Shira pointed.

"Safety can coexist with competence."

At the end of the tour, a recording played through an overhead speaker.

It featured a man laughing maniacally.

Then thunder.

Then more laughter.

Then a wolf howling.

Then, for reasons that were not clear, a doorbell.

Shira stood still.

Mara looked at her.

"Well?"

Shira folded her arms.

"Have you considered silence?"

---

The person responsible for the sound system was sitting on the floor of an equipment room behind the stage.

He had a small screwdriver in one hand and a flashlight between his teeth.

Several cables lay across a folding table beside an old mixing console.

A silver-faced reel-to-reel tape recorder sat on a shelf.

Shira appeared in the doorway.

"That laugh track is a war crime."

The man looked up.

He removed the flashlight.

"Hi."

Shira stopped.

For perhaps half a second, her carefully cultivated composure abandoned her.

Then it returned.

"Eli."

He looked at her costume.

She looked at him.

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"Cheerleader?"

"Technically."

He nodded.

"Seems right."

"Don't."

He smiled a little more.

Shira stepped inside.

"What are you doing here?"

"Repairing things that should have been retired during the first Bush administration."

"Which one?"

"Both."

Shira looked at the equipment.

"That's a lot of retirement."

Eli stood.

He wore black jeans, an old gray T-shirt, and a flannel shirt with the sleeves pushed up. No costume.

Shira examined him.

"What are you supposed to be?"

"Tired."

"Convincing."

He laughed.

They had seen each other twice since the vintage-media fair.

Once at the listening night on Mercer Street, where they had argued about whether Full Collapse was a better album than War All the Time.

And once for coffee afterward, which had lasted nearly two hours despite neither of them possessing particularly strong opinions about coffee.

They had also been texting.

Not constantly.

Enough.

Shira had developed the habit of noticing when her phone buzzed.

She resented this.

Eli glanced at the pom-poms.

"Those are impressive."

"They're structurally unsound."

"How?"

"The handles were terrible. I replaced them."

"Of course you did."

Shira looked toward the reel-to-reel machine.

"Is that yours?"

"Unfortunately, no. I wish it were."

He moved aside.

"Original Akai. Late seventies, I think. Someone's been trying to keep it running for decades."

Shira stepped closer.

"Does it work?"

"Mostly. The transport needed cleaning, and one channel keeps dropping out."

He gestured toward the mixing console.

"The theater committee asked Northline to help with the old audio system. I said I'd take a look."

"You volunteered?"

"Yes."

Shira considered.

"That's dangerous."

"I'm finding that out."

From the corridor came a delighted shriek.

"SHIRA!"

Shira closed her eyes.

Eli looked toward the door.

"Sumi?"

"Unfortunately."

Sumi appeared wearing her devil horns and carrying her trident.

She saw Eli.

Stopped.

Looked at Shira.

Then, with visible effort, controlled her expression.

"Hi, Eli!"

"Hey, Sumi."

"You're here!"

"Yeah."

"That's so cool!"

Shira regarded her.

"Sumi."

"What?"

"Inside voice."

Sumi lowered her voice.

"That's so cool."

Eli laughed.

Sumi beamed.

Then she noticed the tape recorder.

"What's that?"

"A reel-to-reel."

"Does it play music?"

"Sometimes."

"Can it play spooky music?"

"That's actually why it's here."

Sumi gasped.

"SHIRA."

"I heard."

"IT'S PERFECT."

"Sumi."

"Sorry."

Eli looked between them.

His smile grew.

Shira disliked how much she liked that.

---

The Arcadia had a collection of old recordings stored in a cabinet beside the projection booth.

Most were unlabeled.

Some had suffered water damage.

One box contained an assortment of reels with handwritten descriptions of theatrical performances from the 1960s and 1970s.

Eli had found one marked:

V. VALE — HALLOWEEN REVUE

1974

Shira recognized the name.

They had passed her photograph in the lobby.

Vivienne Vale.

A woman with dark, elegantly styled hair and an expression suggesting that she knew something the photographer did not.

In the photograph, she wore an elaborate witch's costume, complete with a pointed hat, long gloves, and a cape.

Beneath it, a brass plate identified her as:

VIVIENNE VALE (1932–2001)

A BELOVED PERFORMER OF THE ARCADIA STAGE

Shira had stopped to look at her.

"She looks terrifying."

"Apparently she was hilarious," Eli said.

"Those aren't mutually exclusive."

"No."

He'd smiled.

"I figured you'd say that."

Now, in the equipment room, Eli threaded the old reel onto the machine.

Shira took her iPod from her bag and set it beside the recorder while they examined the old recordings.

"I haven't played the whole thing," he explained. "The tape's damaged in a few places."

Freya appeared in the doorway.

"Are we doing something?"

Shira looked at her.

"Listening."

"To what?"

"A dead actress."

Freya considered.

"Is that part of the attraction?"

"Not currently."

Sumi clasped her hands.

"Play it!"

Eli pressed the transport button.

The reels began turning.

A soft hiss emerged from the speaker.

Then applause.

A little music.

A woman's voice, rich and theatrical, rose through the noise.

"Welcome, my darlings, to the Arcadia!"

The recording crackled.

More applause.

"Enter, if you dare. The worst thing that can happen..."

The voice disappeared into a burst of static.

The tape continued turning.

Eli adjusted the volume.

A few damaged seconds passed.

Then the woman returned.

"...is that you'll enjoy yourselves."

Sumi laughed.

"I LOVE HER."

Shira smiled.

Freya folded her arms.

"That's not a particularly effective threat."

Shira looked at her.

"That's the point."

Eli stopped the tape.

The reels slowed.

"She used to do Halloween shows here every year," he said. "Apparently the place would sell out."

Sumi looked toward the photograph in the hallway.

"She sounds wonderful."

Freya checked her watch.

"We should probably get back."

Shira raised an eyebrow.

"Get back to what?"

Freya hesitated.

"The haunted house."

"We haven't agreed to anything."

Freya looked at the clipboard still in her hand.

Then at the time written beside the next admission group.

Then at Mara, who was approaching from the corridor with the expression of a woman who had discovered an additional emergency.

Shira watched Freya's face change.

"No."

"I haven't said anything."

"You're about to."

Mara arrived.

"Would any of you be willing to stay for an hour?"

Sumi raised her hand.

Freya opened her mouth.

Shira looked at Eli.

He smiled slightly.

She looked toward the theater.

Then down at her pom-poms.

A moment passed.

"Fine," she said.

Sumi squealed.

"But I want control of the sound in my section."

Eli nodded.

"Reasonable."

"And no artificial thunder."

"Agreed."

"And the skeleton needs to stop waving."

Freya looked up from the clipboard.

"That's already on my list."

Shira stared at her.

"You made a list."

"Three."

"Of course."

---

Mara gave them access to the costume storage room, the backstage corridors, and three sections of the attraction.

Freya immediately organized a meeting.

There were six volunteers present.

Sumi sat on a wooden crate.

Shira leaned against a wall.

Eli remained by the doorway holding a coil of cable.

Freya stood in front of them.

Her blue cape hung from one shoulder, and her gold laurel crown reflected the fluorescent lights.

"We have three immediate priorities," she said.

Shira sighed.

"Of course we do."

"First, visitor flow. Second, performance quality. Third, technical reliability."

One of the volunteers raised his hand.

"Are you the director?"

"No."

"Okay."

Freya looked at the clipboard.

"We'll divide the attraction into three zones."

She drew a rough diagram.

"The first zone will introduce the story. The second will provide the primary scares. The third will be the finale."

Sumi raised her hand.

"Can I be in the first one?"

"Why?"

"Because I can welcome everybody!"

Freya considered.

"That might actually work."

Shira looked at her.

"She's dressed as the devil."

"Yes."

"And you're assigning her to guest reception."

"She's good at reception."

Sumi waved.

"HI!"

Freya nodded.

"See?"

Shira looked toward the ceiling.

"I hate this organization."

Freya continued.

"Shira, you take the middle section."

"Fine."

"What are you going to do?"

"I haven't decided."

"We need a plan."

"I need to see the space."

Freya looked at her.

Then at the volunteers.

"All right. Go look."

Shira pushed herself away from the wall.

Sumi stood.

"Can I come?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because you'll talk."

"I can be quiet!"

Shira regarded her.

Sumi smiled.

Shira left.

---

The middle section occupied what had once been a narrow passage connecting the auditorium to a backstage dressing area.

It had high ceilings, dark wood paneling, and three old doors that no longer opened.

Someone had installed purple LED lights along the walls.

Someone else had placed a plastic skull on a shelf.

The skull wore a baseball cap.

Shira removed the cap.

She examined the skull.

Then the shelf.

Then the passage.

The space was promising.

It needed less.

She found a folding screen and moved it halfway across the corridor.

Then she switched off the purple lights.

A small work light remained illuminated beside the entrance, and the exit markers were still visible.

Better.

She took the plastic skull from the shelf and put it on the floor behind the screen.

Worse.

She removed it entirely.

Much better.

Twenty minutes later, Freya arrived carrying her clipboard.

She stopped at the entrance.

The corridor appeared almost empty.

Shira stood at the far end beneath a single dim lamp.

She was holding one pom-pom.

Freya looked around.

"Where's everything?"

"What everything?"

"The props."

"I removed them."

"The skull?"

"Useless."

"The lights?"

"Mostly useless."

"The fog machine?"

"Annoying."

Freya examined the corridor.

"So what happens?"

Shira looked at her.

"Walk through."

Freya did.

At first, nothing happened.

Her footsteps sounded against the wooden floor.

The corridor was quiet.

She reached the folding screen.

Shira stood several meters away, looking down.

Freya continued.

Shira lifted her head.

Slowly.

Freya stopped.

Shira spoke in a flat voice.

"You're late."

Freya stared at her.

"For what?"

"The game."

A pause.

Freya looked toward the exit.

"What game?"

Shira raised one pom-pom.

"The one that never ended."

For several seconds, neither moved.

Then Freya laughed.

"That's ridiculous."

Shira lowered the pom-pom.

"Yes."

Freya looked around.

"There's no actual scare."

"Did you want one?"

"No. I'm evaluating the experience."

"Then evaluate."

Freya considered.

She had felt something.

Not fear, exactly.

Uncertainty.

The uncomfortable sensation of not knowing whether something was about to happen.

"Interesting," she said.

Shira looked at her.

"Don't."

Freya wrote something down.

Shira stared at the clipboard.

"You're taking notes on my psychological terrorism."

"It's effective."

"You laughed."

"That was after."

Shira considered.

Then smiled slightly.

"Good."

---

The first test group entered at six forty-three.

There were five visitors: two adults, two teenagers, and a man wearing a giant inflatable dinosaur costume.

The dinosaur presented logistical difficulties.

Its head brushed against the ceiling.

Freya watched the group enter.

"Remember," she whispered to Shira, "the objective is to create a controlled experience."

Shira looked at her.

"I understand the objective."

"Don't frighten them too much."

Shira slowly turned.

"Freya."

"What?"

"It's a haunted house."

"I know."

"Please leave."

Freya left.

The group entered the corridor.

At first, they talked among themselves.

The dinosaur complained about the ceiling.

One of the teenagers shone a flashlight toward the far wall.

"Is that a person?"

Shira stood motionless.

The other teenager laughed.

"Yeah. She's a cheerleader."

"Why is she standing there?"

The dinosaur moved closer.

Shira lifted her head.

"You're late."

The group stopped.

"For what?" one of the adults asked.

Shira said nothing.

A second passed.

Then another.

"Hello?"

Shira raised one black pom-pom.

The dinosaur made a small noise.

Shira spoke again.

"You're the only ones who came back."

The second teenager grabbed the first.

"What does that mean?"

Shira tilted her head.

Farther down the corridor, an old door creaked.

The dinosaur turned.

Shira took one step forward.

"Go team."

The dinosaur screamed.

The two teenagers screamed.

One adult screamed.

The other adult laughed so hard that he had to lean against the wall.

The dinosaur attempted to retreat.

Its tail struck the folding screen.

The screen wobbled.

Shira reached out and steadied it.

"Careful," she said normally.

The dinosaur stared at her.

Shira resumed her previous expression.

"Most of them weren't."

The dinosaur fled.

Not quickly.

The costume made that impossible.

But with enormous conviction.

---

Freya stood outside the exit holding her clipboard.

The dinosaur emerged first.

"THAT GIRL IS TERRIFYING."

Sumi gasped.

"SHIRA?"

The dinosaur nodded vigorously.

"SHE'S JUST STANDING THERE."

Freya examined the group.

"How would you rate the experience?"

The first teenager stared at her.

"What?"

"On a scale of one to five."

"Five!"

"Thank you."

The second teenager nodded.

"Five."

The adults agreed.

The dinosaur raised one inflated arm.

"FIVE."

Freya made a note.

Sumi began clapping.

"SHIRA!"

From inside the corridor came a weary voice.

"I can hear you."

"YOU'RE AMAZING!"

"Sumi."

"YOU'RE SO SCARY!"

"Thank you."

Sumi stopped.

She looked at Freya.

"She said thank you again."

Freya nodded.

"She's adapting."

The next group entered.

Within forty seconds, someone screamed.

Sumi pressed both hands to her cheeks.

"This is the best day of my life."

Freya looked up.

"Better than the ramen?"

Sumi considered.

"Different category."

---

Sumi's own performance began shortly afterward.

She had been assigned a small chamber near the attraction's entrance.

The room contained red curtains, artificial candles, and a painted pentagram on the floor.

Freya had objected to the pentagram because visitors might trip over the raised decorations around it.

Mara had removed the decorations.

Sumi was delighted.

The room was perfect.

She stood behind a small table draped in black cloth.

A handwritten sign announced:

A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

A bowl of wrapped candy sat beside her trident.

Freya entered with the first group.

"Welcome," Sumi announced in her deepest voice.

It was not very deep.

"I am the DEVIL."

A little boy dressed as an astronaut stared at her.

Sumi leaned forward.

"And I have come to bargain for your SOUL."

The boy considered.

"How much?"

Sumi blinked.

"What?"

"How much is a soul?"

Sumi looked at Freya.

Freya folded her arms.

"You're negotiating."

Sumi looked back at the boy.

"One piece of candy."

The boy examined the bowl.

"Can I have two?"

Sumi gasped.

"You're very good at this."

Freya closed her eyes.

The boy received three pieces.

His mother thanked Sumi.

Sumi thanked her.

Then she remembered she was supposed to be evil.

"MWAHAHAHA!"

The astronaut waved goodbye.

Sumi waved back.

Freya waited until the group had gone.

"Sumi."

"Wasn't that great?"

"You're supposed to frighten them."

"I threatened his soul!"

"You gave him candy."

"He negotiated."

"You're the devil."

"I know!"

Freya looked at the bowl.

There was considerably less candy than before.

"How much did you buy?"

"Enough."

Freya stared.

From the corridor came another scream.

Shira was apparently having no trouble with inventory.

---

By seven thirty, the Arcadia had become substantially more entertaining.

Visitors were laughing in the lobby.

Several people had asked to go through a second time.

A group of college students emerged from Shira's corridor looking visibly shaken.

One of them immediately purchased another ticket.

Mara was delighted.

She found Freya near the entrance.

"I don't know what you've done, but it's working."

Freya looked at the clipboard.

"We've improved the progression between rooms. The average queue is down to six minutes. And we've reduced the number of technical interruptions."

"Wonderful!"

"The fog machine was also creating a visibility problem."

"I wondered about that."

"We've restricted it to one room."

Mara nodded.

"Whatever you think is best."

Then she hurried away.

Freya looked toward the theater.

Inside, she could hear Shira's voice.

"Do you remember the score?"

A scream.

Then silence.

Freya smiled.

Only slightly.

She looked down at the clipboard again.

In the margin beside the admissions figures, she wrote:

SHIRA: VERY EFFECTIVE

Then, after considering:

DO NOT TELL HER.

---

The trouble began with a girl wearing cat ears.

She was perhaps fourteen, standing near the entrance with three other teenagers.

Her friends were laughing and talking about how terrifying the haunted house was supposed to be.

The girl was quiet.

Sumi noticed because the girl's smile kept appearing a second after everyone else's.

When the others moved toward the entrance, she followed.

But she kept looking at the exit.

Sumi approached.

"Hi!"

The girl looked up.

"Hi."

"I love your ears."

"Thanks."

"Did you make them?"

"My sister did."

"They're so cute!"

The girl smiled.

This time, it seemed genuine.

Sumi glanced toward the entrance.

"Have you been inside yet?"

"No."

"Are you excited?"

The girl hesitated.

"A little."

Sumi nodded.

Then lowered her voice.

"Can I tell you something?"

The girl looked at her.

"I'm actually terrible at being scary."

The girl smiled again.

"I noticed."

Sumi looked wounded.

"Really?"

"You gave that kid candy."

"He was a good negotiator."

The girl laughed.

Sumi leaned a little closer.

"There's also a way through that skips the really creepy corridor. It goes past the old costume room instead."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Can we do that?"

"Of course!"

The girl's shoulders relaxed.

Then she looked toward her friends.

"They'll make fun of me."

Sumi considered.

"Do you want them to know?"

The girl shook her head.

"Okay."

Sumi picked up her trident.

She turned toward the other teenagers.

"ATTENTION, MORTALS!"

They looked over.

"I have a special challenge for your group!"

One boy raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"You must choose between the Corridor of Eternal Doom and the Passage of Mysterious Secrets!"

The teenagers exchanged glances.

"What's the difference?"

Sumi smiled.

"That's a secret."

The girl in cat ears looked at her.

Sumi winked.

The group chose the Passage of Mysterious Secrets.

They passed through a side door and followed an illuminated corridor containing old theater costumes, a painted castle backdrop, and several mannequins that had been positioned in slightly unsettling ways.

The route rejoined the main attraction beyond Shira's section.

The girl in cat ears looked back once.

Sumi gave her a little wave.

The girl smiled.

Then disappeared around the corner with her friends.

Sumi watched them go.

She felt pleased.

This was interrupted by Freya.

"Sumi."

Sumi turned.

"Hi!"

"Why are people bypassing the middle section?"

Sumi looked toward the side door.

"Oh. I made another route."

Freya stared at her.

"You made another route."

"Yes!"

"Without telling anyone."

"I told the volunteer at the door."

"That's not what I mean."

Sumi considered.

"Do you want to see it?"

Freya looked at the door.

Then at the diagram on her clipboard.

"You've changed the visitor flow."

"Yes."

"That makes it harder to track how many people are in each section."

"Oh."

"And people paid for the haunted house."

"They still get the haunted house."

"They skip one of its main attractions."

Sumi's expression changed.

Only a little.

"Some people don't want that part."

"Then why did they buy tickets?"

Sumi was quiet.

Freya looked up from the clipboard.

The girl in the devil costume stood in front of her, holding a trident and looking unexpectedly serious.

"Because they came with their friends," Sumi said.

Freya waited.

Sumi continued.

"They want to be here. They just don't all want the same thing."

Freya looked toward the alternate passage.

She thought about the group she'd seen enter.

Then about the people who'd asked to go through again.

"Okay," she said.

Sumi looked surprised.

"Okay?"

"Show me the route."

Sumi brightened.

They walked through together.

Freya examined the lighting, the width of the corridor, and the location of the exit.

"It's safe," she said.

"I know."

"We should put a volunteer at both ends."

"Okay!"

"And we need signs."

Sumi smiled.

"MORE GHOSTS and LESS GHOSTS?"

Freya considered.

"That's actually clear."

Sumi gasped.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Can we make them little ghost faces?"

"Fine."

"And the less-scary one can have a happy ghost?"

"Fine."

"And the other one can have a really angry ghost?"

"Sumi."

"Okay."

They returned to the entrance.

Freya began revising her diagram.

Then she stopped.

She looked at the original queue figures.

For a moment, she considered recording the new route as a separate visitor category.

Then she folded the clipboard shut.

"Sumi?"

"Yeah?"

"Good idea."

Sumi's face lit up.

"Thank you!"

She hugged Freya.

Freya's ceremonial spear nearly fell over.

"Careful."

"Sorry!"

Sumi released her.

Then she noticed Freya was smiling.

Not her usual small, satisfied smile.

Something warmer.

Sumi smiled back.

She decided not to mention it.

This was a significant achievement.

---

At eight twelve, Eli found Shira sitting on a wooden crate behind the stage.

She had taken off one boot.

Her other leg rested on an empty equipment case.

She was drinking water from a paper cup and examining something on her phone.

He stopped.

"How's the haunting?"

Shira looked up.

"Successful."

"I heard."

"Did you?"

"A man dressed as a dinosaur told three people outside that the cheerleader had destroyed his will to live."

Shira considered.

"Good."

Eli leaned against the wall.

"You're enjoying this."

"Yes."

He looked at her.

She looked back.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You sound surprised."

"A little."

"Why?"

He considered.

"I guess I didn't know you liked performing."

Shira glanced toward the darkened corridor.

"Neither did I."

That answer seemed to please him.

He sat on another crate.

For a while, they listened to the muffled sounds of the haunted house.

Somewhere, a volunteer shouted.

Someone else screamed.

The mechanical skeleton began grinding its internal gears.

Shira closed her eyes.

"That thing is still alive."

Eli smiled.

"Technically."

"We should put it down."

"I can disconnect it."

"Please."

He took a sip of water.

Then looked at her phone.

"Music?"

"Reference."

She showed him the screen.

A photograph of an old theatrical lighting arrangement.

She'd found it in an archive of stage productions from the 1970s.

Eli leaned closer.

"That's really cool."

"Look at the shadows."

"Yeah."

"They didn't need thirty LEDs."

"No."

"They had one spotlight and actual taste."

He laughed.

Shira looked at the photograph again.

Then at the dark corridor beyond the equipment room.

"I think I want to change the ending of my section."

"How?"

She explained.

Eli listened.

Then suggested a sound effect.

Shira rejected it.

He suggested a different one.

She rejected that too.

"Do you hate sound?" he asked.

"Not all sound."

"Just the sounds I suggest."

"Apparently."

He smiled.

"What if I use the tape hiss?"

Shira paused.

"What?"

"The old recorder. I can sample a little of the noise between the performances. Just the texture. Nothing recognizable."

Shira considered.

"Maybe."

Eli raised his eyebrows.

"That's the most positive response I've had all evening."

"Don't get used to it."

He looked at her.

She looked back.

Then she smiled.

Not a defensive smile.

Not something that disappeared the instant she noticed herself doing it.

A real one.

Eli smiled too.

From the doorway came a small sound.

Both turned.

Sumi stood there.

Her eyes were enormous.

Shira stared at her.

"Sumi."

Sumi clasped both hands over her mouth.

Shira continued staring.

Sumi slowly backed away.

Then turned and disappeared down the corridor.

Eli watched her go.

"Was that progress?"

Shira sighed.

"Enormous."

---

By eight forty, Freya had stopped asking visitors to rate their experience.

She had also stopped carrying the clipboard everywhere.

These developments were unrelated, she told herself.

The clipboard was now attached to a hook beside the admissions desk.

The queue was orderly.

The volunteers understood their roles.

Shira had created three variations on her performance, depending on how visitors reacted.

Sumi had introduced her two-route system, complete with little hand-drawn ghost signs that were already attracting compliments.

The haunted house was functioning beautifully.

Freya should have been satisfied.

She was satisfied.

Mostly.

The difficulty was that she couldn't account for the moments visitors seemed to enjoy most.

One group had laughed uncontrollably when the mechanical skeleton's arm fell off.

Another had applauded after a volunteer accidentally dropped a broom.

A third had spent several minutes discussing how cute Sumi's devil horns were.

None of these things appeared in the plan.

Freya watched a group leave the theater.

A woman was laughing.

Her friend was describing something that had happened in Shira's corridor.

"She didn't even move!"

"I know!"

"And then she said..."

The woman attempted to imitate Shira's deadpan delivery.

Her friend laughed harder.

Freya smiled.

Then noticed herself smiling.

She looked toward the admissions desk.

Nobody had seen.

Good.

She examined her costume.

The gold bracers caught the light. Her blue cape hung elegantly from her shoulders, and the laurel crown remained perfectly in place despite several hours of activity.

She had originally worried the outfit would be inconvenient.

It was a little inconvenient.

The cape occasionally caught on chairs.

The spear required constant attention.

The shield was heavier than expected.

But she liked wearing it.

Quite a lot, actually.

She looked toward a darkened window.

Her reflection stared back.

Short silver-white hair.

Gold laurel crown.

Blue cape.

A goddess.

Freya tilted her head slightly.

Then straightened the crown.

Behind her, a voice said:

"Looking good."

Freya turned.

Shira stood in the doorway holding her pom-poms.

"I wasn't."

"Of course."

"I was checking the crown."

"Against what?"

"Symmetry."

Shira looked at her.

"Right."

Freya folded her arms.

Shira stepped beside her.

For a moment, they stood together looking at their reflections.

One gothic cheerleader.

One Greek goddess.

Freya considered.

"This is a strange evening."

"Yes."

"You look very different."

"So do you."

Freya nodded.

Then she glanced at Shira.

"You're having fun."

Shira looked back.

"Yes."

Freya waited.

Shira raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Is that surprising?"

"A little."

Shira considered.

Then lifted one pom-pom.

"I spent six hours modifying this costume."

Freya stared at her.

"Six?"

"Approximately."

"That's a lot of work."

"Yes."

"For something you might only wear once."

Shira looked toward the theater.

Then back at Freya.

"It was worth it."

Freya was quiet.

Shira adjusted the strap of her outfit.

Then added:

"Not everything needs to be practical."

Freya looked at her.

Shira looked back.

A faint smile appeared on her face.

"Try not to have an aneurysm."

Freya laughed.

It escaped before she could stop it.

Shira smiled a little more.

Then turned and went back toward her corridor.

Freya watched her leave.

For a while, she remained beside the window.

Then she adjusted her crown again.

Not for symmetry this time.

Just because she liked it.

---

The equipment failed at nine seventeen.

It began with the mechanical skeleton.

The skeleton had been behaving unusually well for almost an hour.

Then its left arm rose.

Its jaw opened.

Instead of saying "BOO," it made a long, agonized electronic noise.

The arm fell off.

A little boy applauded.

Then the automated lighting controller shut down.

The programmed lights went out across the attraction, leaving the independent work lights and illuminated exit signs functioning normally.

The fog machine stopped.

The thunder effects stopped.

The artificial screams stopped.

For the first time all evening, the Arcadia became genuinely quiet.

Freya was at the admissions desk.

She looked up.

Then at the theater.

Then at the clock.

"Of course."

Mara appeared from the lobby.

"What happened?"

"Technical failure."

"Can we keep going?"

"Not until we've checked the route."

Freya put down her pen.

"Pause admissions. I'll clear the rooms."

She took charge without hesitation.

Within three minutes, the remaining visitors had been guided safely back to the lobby.

Sumi stood beside the exit handing out candy.

Shira emerged from her corridor looking faintly disappointed.

Eli appeared from backstage carrying a flashlight.

"What happened?" Freya asked.

"The controller's gone down."

"Can you restart it?"

"Maybe."

"How long?"

"I don't know."

Freya frowned.

Eli looked toward the equipment room.

"The automation system's old. Half the effects run through it. The other half seem to have been wired by someone who believed electricity was a matter of personal interpretation."

Shira nodded.

"Sounds like a theater."

Mara looked exhausted.

"We've got forty-five minutes left."

Freya checked her watch.

The final scheduled admission was at ten.

They had a line of visitors waiting outside, several volunteers looking for instructions, and an attraction that had just lost most of its effects.

She began calculating.

If Eli could restore the controller within ten minutes, they could resume a shortened schedule.

If it took twenty, they might manage two more groups.

If it required replacement parts, there was no point continuing.

The arithmetic was straightforward.

The situation was not.

Mara sat down on a bench.

"I suppose that's it."

Sumi looked at her.

"No!"

Mara smiled tiredly.

"We've had a good evening."

"But it's not over!"

"The equipment doesn't work."

Sumi looked toward Shira.

Shira was examining the darkened auditorium.

She looked back.

"What?"

"Can we still do it?"

Shira considered.

"Do what?"

"The haunted house!"

"Without the haunted house?"

"Yes!"

Shira looked toward the curtains.

Then toward the stage.

Then at Freya.

"Actually."

Freya closed her eyes.

She knew that word.

Shira continued.

"We don't need most of the effects."

Eli looked at her.

"No."

"We need lights."

"Those still work."

"Some sound."

"I can get you a microphone and a separate speaker."

"And actors."

Sumi threw both arms into the air.

"WE HAVE ACTORS!"

Freya looked at them.

Shira was already examining the stage.

Eli had turned toward the equipment room.

Sumi was bouncing on her toes.

Mara watched hopefully.

Freya considered the situation.

Then looked at the clock.

"All right."

Everyone turned.

"We can run one shortened route through the auditorium and onto the stage, provided the lighting and exits are safe. No moving effects. No fog. No unlit corridors."

Shira nodded.

"Fine."

"Sumi, you handle the entrance and alternate route. Eli, set up the microphone."

"Got it."

"Mara, can you get two volunteers to guide the groups?"

"Absolutely."

Freya looked toward the stage.

"We need a finale."

Shira was quiet.

Sumi was quiet.

Eli looked toward his cables.

Freya followed their gazes.

Then she understood.

"No."

Shira raised an eyebrow.

"You're literally dressed as a goddess."

"I am not an actress."

"You can speak in public."

"That's different."

"How?"

"Public speaking has an objective."

Shira considered.

"So does theater."

"Which is?"

"Convincing people to believe you for a little while."

Freya looked toward the stage.

A few old painted columns stood beside a throne left over from an earlier production.

Behind them hung a faded backdrop depicting a mountainous landscape beneath an enormous moon.

The scene was absurd.

Her costume was absurd.

The entire evening had become absurd.

She thought about the people laughing as they left.

Shira's terrifying cheerleader.

Sumi's ridiculous bargain with the devil.

The little ghost signs.

The way she'd enjoyed seeing herself in the window.

Then she looked at her friends.

"I can do it."

Shira blinked.

"Really?"

"Yes."

Sumi gasped.

"FREYA!"

"Don't."

"YOU'RE GOING TO BE ATHENA!"

"I already am Athena."

"BUT NOW YOU GET TO BE ATHENA!"

Freya looked at her.

Then at Shira.

Shira was smiling.

Not a little.

Quite openly.

Freya shook her head.

"This is going to be a disaster."

"Probably," Shira said.

Sumi laughed.

Freya looked toward the stage.

Then she picked up her spear.

"Fine."

---

The first group entered at nine thirty-eight.

Sumi stood at the entrance to the auditorium.

"Welcome, mortals!"

Her voice echoed between the old walls.

"You have survived the Curse of the Arcadia!"

A little girl raised her hand.

"We didn't go through it."

Sumi hesitated.

Then smiled.

"That makes you especially lucky!"

Shira, standing behind a curtain, made a small sound.

Freya suspected she was laughing.

Sumi continued.

"You must now face the final trial!"

She pointed toward the stage.

"THE GODDESS OF WISDOM!"

The curtains opened.

Freya stood upon a low platform between two painted columns.

Her white-and-gold costume shone beneath the stage lights.

Her blue cape fell behind her.

She held the spear in one hand and the owl-decorated shield in the other.

For a moment, she looked magnificent.

Then she spoke.

"Mortals."

The visitors became quiet.

"You stand before Athena, goddess of wisdom, courage, and strategic warfare."

A child whispered something to his mother.

Freya continued.

"Before you may leave this realm, you must demonstrate sufficient intellectual and moral competence."

Shira closed her eyes backstage.

Oh no.

Freya raised her spear.

"Your first trial concerns decision-making under conditions of uncertainty."

Someone laughed.

Freya hesitated.

Then continued.

"Imagine that you have three possible routes through an unfamiliar territory. The first is shortest but contains an unknown hazard. The second is longer but has a predictable travel time. The third..."

More laughter.

Freya stopped.

A teenager raised his hand.

"Is this a math test?"

"No."

"It sounds like one."

"It's a strategic exercise."

The teenager looked at his friend.

His friend laughed.

Freya's expression tightened.

She looked toward the backstage curtain.

Shira was watching.

Sumi stood beside her.

Neither seemed particularly concerned.

Freya turned back toward the audience.

She could continue the exercise.

It was a perfectly valid exercise.

The visitors simply weren't taking it seriously.

She felt a familiar irritation rising.

The same irritation she'd felt during rowing competitions when teammates failed to maintain their timing.

The same irritation she'd felt in Asterfall when the magical trials refused to reward the abilities she believed should matter.

This was supposed to be a performance.

She had prepared a performance.

The visitors were laughing.

And then something happened.

A voice emerged from the old speaker mounted above the stage.

Soft.

Crackling.

Female.

"Darling, you're allowed to enjoy yourself."

For a moment, the entire theater became still.

Freya looked up.

Shira turned toward the speaker.

Eli, standing beside the small mixing console at the rear of the auditorium, looked sharply toward the equipment room.

The voice was gone.

A faint hiss remained for half a second.

Then silence.

Sumi looked at Shira.

Shira looked at Eli.

Freya stood motionless upon the platform.

She knew the voice.

They had heard it earlier.

Vivienne Vale.

Or something extraordinarily similar.

Freya looked toward the audience.

Several visitors were smiling.

A little girl had begun giggling.

The teenager who'd asked about the math test was watching expectantly.

And suddenly Freya understood something.

She had spent the entire evening trying to make the haunted house work properly.

Now it was working improperly.

And everyone was having a wonderful time.

She looked down at her spear.

Then at the ridiculous painted throne.

Then at the visitors.

A smile appeared on her face.

"An excellent point."

Shira looked at her.

Freya raised her spear.

"Mortals. Your goddess has reconsidered the terms of your examination."

The teenager looked delighted.

Freya stepped down from the platform.

"The previous trial was clearly inadequate."

"YES!" someone shouted.

"Do not celebrate prematurely."

The visitors laughed.

Freya rested her shield against the throne and examined the nearby prop table.

There were three plastic skulls, a fake golden apple, a broken goblet, and a small rubber duck.

She picked up the duck.

Held it aloft.

"Behold."

Shira covered her mouth.

Freya continued.

"The Sacred Waterfowl of Delphi."

Sumi made a strangled sound.

The audience stared.

"The wisdom of this creature has guided civilizations for centuries."

Freya squeezed the duck.

It squeaked.

The entire room erupted in laughter.

Freya looked at the duck.

Then at the audience.

She smiled.

"Unfortunately, its counsel has recently deteriorated."

Shira doubled over behind the curtain.

Eli began laughing.

Freya placed the duck upon the throne.

"Your first trial is to convince this sacred creature that humanity deserves another thousand years."

The teenager raised his hand.

"Can we bribe it?"

Freya looked at him.

"An interesting proposal."

She examined the duck.

"What do you have?"

"Three pieces of candy."

Freya considered.

"Insufficient."

"Four?"

"Your offer is improving."

Someone else raised a hand.

"I have a granola bar!"

Freya pointed her spear.

"Excellent. A contribution toward long-term sustainability."

Sumi was now laughing so hard she could barely stand.

Shira leaned against the wall.

"This is horrifying."

"She's incredible!" Sumi whispered.

"She's conducting a procurement process with a rubber duck."

Freya continued.

"Your second trial concerns physical courage."

The audience quieted.

Freya planted her feet.

"Who among you can maintain the heroic stance of Athena?"

She demonstrated.

One foot forward.

Shoulders squared.

Spear raised.

The stance was genuinely impressive.

Several visitors copied her.

One man lost his balance.

Freya lowered her spear.

"Excellent effort. Adjust your center of gravity."

The man tried again.

"Better."

A woman raised her hand.

"Can I do it sitting down?"

Freya considered.

"Of course. Wisdom does not require standing."

She demonstrated a seated version using the throne.

The woman copied her.

Freya nodded solemnly.

"Exceptional."

The visitors applauded.

Something in Freya's chest loosened.

She had not expected this.

She had not expected any of it.

But she liked it.

She liked the ridiculous duck.

The terrible painted columns.

The people laughing.

The fact that she could say something absurd and watch it become part of a shared game.

And, most unexpectedly, she liked not knowing exactly what would happen next.

A voice came from backstage.

"Freya."

She turned.

Shira stood just beyond the curtain.

Her long hair partly covered her face.

She held one black pom-pom.

"Your goddess has a problem."

Freya raised an eyebrow.

"What problem?"

"The dead have returned."

Shira stepped onto the stage.

The lighting changed.

Eli had lowered the house lights and brought up a pale spotlight.

Shira stood motionless.

"Go team."

A little boy screamed.

Freya looked at her.

Shira looked back.

Then Freya smiled.

"Ah. The Cheerleader of Eternal Defeat."

Shira paused.

That was not her character's name.

She decided to allow it.

"Your team has already lost," she said.

Freya raised her spear.

"Impossible. We haven't begun."

Shira tilted her head.

"The game never ends."

Freya considered.

Then turned toward the audience.

"Mortals. We face an existential threat."

The teenager shouted:

"USE THE DUCK!"

Freya stared.

Then slowly picked up the Sacred Waterfowl of Delphi.

Shira looked at it.

Freya looked at Shira.

For perhaps three seconds, nobody moved.

Then Freya squeezed the duck.

Squeak.

Shira collapsed dramatically to her knees.

"No."

Squeak.

"My one weakness."

Squeak.

"Stop."

Freya lifted the duck above her head.

"The wisdom of Delphi prevails!"

The audience exploded.

Sumi fell backward against a curtain.

Eli had to turn away from the microphone because he couldn't stop laughing.

And Freya, standing beneath the stage lights in her golden costume, began laughing too.

Properly.

Uncontrollably.

So hard that she had to lower the spear.

The performance stopped being a performance for several seconds.

Nobody cared.

They applauded anyway.

---

The final group finished at ten fourteen.

They had run six improvised performances.

No two were quite alike.

In one, Freya declared war on the audience for failing to recognize the duck's sovereign authority.

In another, Shira convinced three visitors that the theater's missing cheerleading team had been trapped in the building since 1987.

In the fifth, Sumi accidentally entered the stage carrying a tray of cookies.

Freya immediately incorporated the cookies into the mythology.

They became an offering to Athena.

Sumi distributed them.

Shira objected to the implication that the dead could be bought with baked goods.

Freya declared that all transactions were subject to divine review.

The audience cheered.

By the final performance, even Mara had stopped worrying about the equipment.

She stood near the back of the auditorium, laughing with the volunteers.

The old Arcadia, closed for so many years, was full of noise again.

Not recorded screams.

Not mechanical thunder.

People.

Actual people.

Laughing.

Forgetting themselves.

Having the kind of evening they would remember long after the decorations came down.

---

After the last visitors had gone, Freya stood alone on the stage.

Her blue cape hung crookedly.

Her laurel crown had slipped toward one ear.

The Sacred Waterfowl of Delphi sat on the throne.

She picked it up.

Examined it.

Then squeezed it once.

Squeak.

She smiled.

"Ridiculous."

"Yes."

Freya turned.

Shira stood in the aisle.

She had removed her boots and was carrying them in one hand.

"That was spectacular," she said.

Freya looked at her.

"Thank you."

Shira approached the stage.

"You threatened a twelve-year-old with administrative sanctions."

"She attempted to bribe a sacred animal."

"With Skittles."

"Insufficient consideration."

Shira began laughing.

Freya smiled.

For a while, neither spoke.

Then Freya looked toward the darkened auditorium.

"I didn't know I could do that."

Shira leaned against the stage.

"Neither did I."

Freya glanced at her.

"You're very good at this."

"Apparently."

"You should do it again."

Shira considered.

"Maybe."

Freya looked at her.

Shira raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're thinking something."

"Just that you've changed."

Shira was quiet.

Then she looked toward the stage.

"So have you."

Freya considered that.

It seemed true.

Not dramatically.

Not in a way that required an announcement.

But there had been a moment, somewhere between the first terrible speech and the Sacred Waterfowl of Delphi, when Freya had stopped caring whether she was succeeding.

She'd simply been doing something she liked.

And people had liked doing it with her.

Shira looked toward the duck.

"Are you keeping that?"

Freya examined it.

"Probably not."

A pause.

"Maybe."

Shira smiled.

"Of course."

---

Eli found them fifteen minutes later.

He carried the old tape box in one hand.

"Well," he said.

Shira turned.

"Did you figure it out?"

"Not exactly."

Freya looked up.

"The voice?"

He nodded.

"I checked the recorder. It wasn't running."

Shira frowned.

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"What about the other sources?"

"That's the problem."

He sat on the edge of the stage.

"The theater's been rewired so many times that I'm not completely sure where half the audio feeds go. There could be an old playback device connected somewhere. One of the volunteers might have triggered something."

Freya considered.

"Was the voice on the tape?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"I didn't hear that line when I tested it. But I haven't listened to the whole recording."

Shira looked toward the darkened auditorium.

"Could the damaged section have played?"

"Possibly. I don't know."

Freya folded her arms.

"We should examine the equipment tomorrow."

Shira turned toward her.

"No."

"What?"

"No."

"We could establish what happened."

"Or we could go home."

Freya considered.

Then smiled.

"Fair."

Eli looked at Shira.

"Do you think it was a ghost?"

Shira considered.

"I think it was bad wiring."

Eli nodded.

"That's my leading theory."

A pause.

"Although..."

Shira looked at him.

"Although?"

He shrugged.

"Good timing."

Shira glanced toward the theater's old photographs.

Then back at him.

"Maybe she was giving notes."

Eli smiled.

"To Freya?"

"She needed them."

Freya looked offended.

"I was performing adequately."

Shira stared.

"You gave them a route-selection problem."

"It was a legitimate exercise."

"For people dressed as zombies."

"Zombies can make decisions."

Eli started laughing.

Shira smiled.

Then she looked back toward the photograph of Vivienne Vale.

For a moment, her expression softened.

"Maybe she liked the show."

Nobody answered.

There was nothing to answer.

---

They finished helping Mara pack the props shortly before eleven.

The theater had become quiet again.

Costumes hung on racks.

The fog machines were unplugged.

The mechanical skeleton lay in two pieces on a table.

Sumi had apologized to it.

Shira had suggested a burial.

Freya had pointed out that the theater would probably reuse it next year.

Shira had described this as a threat.

Mara thanked them repeatedly.

Sumi hugged her.

Freya offered to send her a copy of the updated admissions diagram.

Shira threatened to destroy it.

Mara accepted the offer anyway.

Before leaving, Sumi found the girl with cat ears waiting near the entrance.

She and her friends had come back for the improvised finale. Now her friends were standing outside, talking about the performance.

The girl looked at Sumi.

"That was really fun."

Sumi smiled.

"I'm glad!"

"Thanks for the other way through."

"Of course."

The girl considered.

"Maybe next year I'll try the scary corridor."

Sumi nodded.

"Maybe!"

Then she added:

"Or maybe you won't."

The girl smiled.

"Yeah."

She waved goodbye.

Sumi watched her leave.

For a moment, she felt something quiet and pleasant.

Then she noticed that she was still holding the bowl of candy.

She took a piece.

Unwrapped it.

Ate it.

The devil had earned it.

---

Outside, the festival was winding down.

Workers were taking down banners. Shopkeepers were carrying decorations inside. A few costumed visitors wandered between the remaining food stalls, apparently determined to continue Halloween until someone officially prohibited it.

The three friends sat on a low stone wall near the theater.

Sumi had acquired a paper bag of leftover cookies.

Shira had her boots beside her.

Freya's spear rested against the wall.

For a while, nobody spoke.

Sumi ate a cookie.

Then another.

Then she looked at her friends.

"Did you have fun?"

Shira answered immediately.

"No."

Sumi smiled.

"Shira."

"What?"

"You were amazing."

"I was employed."

"You weren't getting paid."

"That was an administrative oversight."

Freya laughed.

Sumi turned toward her.

"What about you?"

Freya considered.

"It was enjoyable."

Shira looked at her.

"Enjoyable."

"Yes."

"You spent forty minutes prosecuting visitors on behalf of a rubber duck."

"Thirty-six."

Shira stared.

"You timed it?"

Freya hesitated.

Then smiled.

"No."

Shira blinked.

Freya continued.

"I didn't."

Sumi looked delighted.

"FREYA!"

"Please."

"YOU DIDN'T TIME SOMETHING!"

"It wasn't necessary."

Shira put one hand over her heart.

"Athena has fallen."

Freya laughed.

Then she picked up her laurel crown, which had been resting beside her.

She examined it.

For a moment, Shira thought she was going to put it away.

Instead, Freya settled it back onto her head.

Sumi smiled.

Shira noticed.

Neither said anything.

That seemed appropriate.

---

Eli emerged from the theater carrying a small black equipment case.

He stopped when he saw them.

"Hey."

Shira looked up.

"Hi."

"Heading out?"

"Eventually."

He nodded toward the theater.

"Everything's shut down."

"Good."

"Except the skeleton."

Shira stared at him.

"What?"

He smiled.

"Joking."

"That's not funny."

"A little."

Shira considered.

"Medium."

Eli laughed.

Sumi watched the conversation.

Then very carefully looked away.

Freya noticed.

She also looked away.

The two of them became intensely interested in a decorative pumpkin across the street.

Shira observed this.

For once, she decided to let them.

Eli adjusted the strap of his equipment case.

"There's another listening night next Friday."

Shira looked at him.

"I know."

"Thought you might."

"They're doing early post-hardcore again."

"Yeah."

"Predictable."

"Naturally."

He smiled.

Shira looked toward her friends.

Sumi was studying the pumpkin with extraordinary concentration.

Freya was pretending to check a street sign.

Shira looked back at Eli.

"Do you want to go together?"

Eli paused.

Then smiled.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Seven?"

"Seven."

A moment passed.

Then Shira added:

"And we could get coffee afterward."

Eli's expression warmed.

"That sounds good."

Shira nodded.

"Good."

There.

Done.

She had asked.

The world had continued existing.

It was becoming a surprisingly reliable phenomenon.

Eli smiled.

"I'll see you Friday."

"See you."

He waved to Sumi and Freya.

They waved back with an impressive degree of restraint.

Then he walked down the street.

Shira watched him go.

Not for long.

Just long enough.

When she turned back, Sumi was smiling.

Shira raised one finger.

"No."

Sumi nodded immediately.

"Okay."

Freya folded her arms.

"We didn't say anything."

"Keep it that way."

Sumi pressed her lips together.

Her expression suggested significant internal suffering.

Shira looked at her.

Sumi made a small sound.

"No."

Another sound.

"Sumi."

Sumi finally burst.

"YOU'RE SO CUTE."

Shira closed her eyes.

Freya started laughing.

"I lasted almost a minute!" Sumi protested.

"An extraordinary achievement," Shira said.

Sumi hugged her.

Shira remained rigid for approximately two seconds.

Then she hugged her back.

"Get off."

"You love me."

"Unfortunately."

Freya watched them.

Then, after a moment, she leaned in and joined the embrace.

Shira groaned.

"This is intolerable."

Neither woman released her.

---

They decided to take a photograph.

For once, Shira suggested it.

This surprised Sumi so much that she nearly dropped her phone.

"What?"

"A picture."

"Of us?"

"No. The building."

Sumi looked confused.

Shira sighed.

"Yes. Of us."

Sumi gasped.

Freya smiled.

Sumi propped her phone against a nearby windowsill, set the timer, and hurried into position.

The three stood beneath the Arcadia's old marquee.

Sumi took the middle position, her red horns slightly crooked, her devil's tail curling behind her.

Shira stood on one side, holding her black pom-poms, her long dark hair falling across one eye.

Freya stood on the other, wearing her golden laurel crown and blue cape.

Sumi raised her trident.

"Everybody look alive!"

Shira stared at the camera.

Freya smiled.

The phone clicked.

Sumi retrieved it.

She looked at the screen.

Then stopped.

"Oh."

Shira looked at her.

"What?"

Sumi held up the photograph.

There they were.

The devil, the cheerleader, and the goddess.

All three looking ridiculous.

All three looking wonderful.

Sumi smiled.

"This is us."

Shira considered the picture.

Then looked at Freya.

Freya was still smiling.

Not her usual confident half-smile.

Something more open.

Something that had escaped before she could decide whether it was appropriate.

Shira looked back at the phone.

"Yeah," she said.

Then, after a moment:

"It is."

---

Shira returned to the theater because she'd forgotten her iPod.

This was embarrassing.

Not because she'd forgotten it.

Because she had been carrying the same iPod for so many years that leaving it behind felt like abandoning a family member in a supermarket.

She found it on the equipment-room table.

Beside the old reel-to-reel recorder.

The machine was unplugged.

The tape still sat on its supply reel.

Shira picked up her iPod.

Checked it.

Fine.

She put it in her bag.

Then she noticed the photograph on the wall.

Vivienne Vale.

The actress stood in her elaborate witch's costume, smiling toward an audience that had disappeared decades ago.

Beneath the photograph was a framed program from the Arcadia's Halloween revue of 1974.

Shira stepped closer.

She read the names.

The performers.

The orchestra.

The director.

The stage crew.

People who had once spent evenings in this building preparing something that mattered to them.

People who had argued about lights and costumes and sound effects.

People who had probably worried whether the audience would laugh.

Whether anyone would come.

Whether the show would work.

Shira looked at Vivienne's photograph again.

The woman was smiling.

Not a theatrical, exaggerated smile.

A private one.

The kind that suggested she knew the evening had been worthwhile.

Shira stood there for a while.

Then she looked toward the empty stage.

"Good show," she said quietly.

Nothing answered.

No voice.

No footsteps.

No mysterious movement.

The old theater remained perfectly still.

Shira nodded.

"Yeah."

She switched off the equipment-room light.

Then went outside to find her friends.

---

Four days later, Freya discovered a rubber duck in her bag.

She had no memory of putting it there.

This was suspicious.

She photographed it.

Then sent the picture to the group chat.

FREYA: Which one of you did this?

Sumi replied immediately.

SUMI: THE SACRED WATERFOWL OF DELPHI

FREYA: That does not answer the question.

SHIRA: Perhaps it chose you.

FREYA: Shira.

SHIRA: Divine intervention.

FREYA: I know it was one of you.

SUMI: THE DUCK WORKS IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS

Freya stared at the messages.

Then at the duck.

She squeezed it.

Squeak.

For a moment, she considered putting it away.

Instead, she set it on her desk beside her running watch.

The duck looked ridiculous.

Entirely inappropriate.

Completely useless.

Freya considered the arrangement.

Then smiled.

She left it there.