Chapter 68: Trick or Treat, Motherf*cker
Night fell like spilled ink across the entire town.
Halloween jack-o'-lanterns flickered with orange light on every porch, and the air was thick with the sweet smell of candy and children's laughter.
Three girls walked among the chaotic parade of trick-or-treaters on the street.
"This is boring," Emma's voice came from under her hat, tinged with impatience.
They'd already hit several blocks, and the adults would just squeal with delight and dump handfuls of candy into Lily's and Esther's bags.
Emma's pockets were empty—she had zero interest in sugar.
What she wanted was a more interesting "game."
"Patience," Lily turned and winked at Emma. "The best part's always saved for last."
Her "best part" clearly didn't mean candy.
As a demon, cheap human pleasures didn't satisfy her—she craved purer, stronger emotions. Fear.
Esther said nothing beside them, just smiled quietly, observing her two "companions."
She could sense that these two girls, like her, were monsters wearing children's skin.
Lily had an aura that made her instinctively nervous, while Emma was like a poisoned blade hidden in shadows.
Being with them was dangerous. And that gave her a sick thrill.
They passed house after elaborately decorated house, and Lily's plastic pumpkin bucket and Esther's pink bag grew heavier with candy.
"Enough." Lily suddenly stopped. She casually dumped the entire bucket of candy into a nearby trash can with a clatter. "This stuff tastes like shit."
She lifted her head, her small nose twitching as if searching for a specific scent.
"Over there," she pointed to a dark, isolated alley. "There's something interesting that way."
The alley had no streetlights, and its end disappeared into deep shadow—completely out of place with the festive streets around it.
Under Emma's hat brim, her mouth curved slightly. This was what she'd been waiting for.
Esther glanced at the dark alley, then at Lily's excited face. She didn't object, just silently followed.
She knew the real Halloween was only just beginning.
The three walked into the alley. Dead leaves crunched underfoot, the laughter from outside was cut off, and the world went quiet except for their three sets of footsteps.
At the end stood a decrepit two-story house.
The building sat alone, huge sections of paint peeling off to reveal rotting boards underneath.
Wooden planks were nailed across the windows, one broken and dangling, leaving a dark gaping hole like a watching eye. The yard was overrun with waist-high weeds, and a rusted iron gate lay crooked nearby, creaking softly.
The whole house radiated decay, dampness, and wrongness.
This was 29 Neibolt Street.
The one place every kid in Derry knew to avoid.
"Ooh," Lily breathed. She could feel a dense, ancient aura of fear—like fog—wrapped around the house.
That aura was like a gourmet meal to her.
"Looks like something big lives here," she licked her lips.
Emma pulled her hand from her pocket. In it was a paring knife she'd stolen from the Connor kitchen and sharpened to a wicked edge.
The blade caught the faint moonlight with a cold gleam.
Esther took half a step back. She surveyed the house—her adult rationality screamed danger, but simultaneously she felt a twisted desire to conquer whatever was inside.
To survive here, she needed to prove her worth.
"Are you sure you want to go in?" she asked in her fake-childish voice, testing them.
"Obviously," Lily replied without looking back. She was already impatient.
She led the way, stepping onto the rotting, creaking porch and stopping before the weathered wooden door.
Emma followed close behind like a silent guard. Esther hesitated for a second, then followed too, standing on Lily's other side.
Lily extended her pale, delicate hand and, without hesitation, knocked three times hard on the door.
Thump... thump... thump...
The dull knocking echoed far in the dead of night, like blows to the heart.
No response from inside.
Lily tilted her head, her smile growing sweeter.
"Trick or treat!" she called out in a clear, melodious voice. "No candy? Then we're coming in to play!"
The moment her words ended—
Creeeak—
The heavy wooden door slowly, automatically, opened inward.
A cold gust of wind, reeking of sewage and rotting meat, blew out from the gap.
Nothing was visible in the darkness beyond.
Suddenly, a red balloon slowly floated out of the shadows and hovered in front of the three girls.
Then a figure emerged from the darkness.
He wore a faded, ruffled Victorian-style clown suit, his face covered in thick white greasepaint, bright red lipstick cracked into an exaggerated smile. His hair was flame-orange, and his high forehead looked exceptionally pale in the moonlight.
Pennywise the Dancing Clown.
His yellow eyes swept over the three girls, carrying hunger and mockery.
He loved children. Loved the fear in children. It was his most delicious sustenance.
"Well hello, little ones," his voice sounded like sandpaper on concrete. "Do you want a balloon too? We all float down here... you'll float too..."
He expected to see that familiar, wonderful expression—terror—on these three little girls' faces.
But he was disappointed.
The Gothic doll standing in the middle—far from being scared—was looking at him with keen interest, like he was an amusing toy.
The girl in black next to her, face obscured by her hat, was staring at him with a cold, emotionless gaze that moved across him like she was planning a dissection.
And the other girl, dressed like a little princess, was trembling slightly—but not from fear. More like... barely-contained excitement?
Pennywise's smile faltered.
Something was wrong.
"Your smell..." Lily began, her voice still sweet, but her words caused Pennywise unprecedented confusion. "It's ancient, but... so weak."
She was like a sommelier tasting wine, evaluating a vintage that didn't meet her standards.
"And," Esther stepped forward, and for the first time her fake-innocent face revealed Lena Klammer's adult, calculating expression, "your outfit's totally outdated, dude. Clowns don't dress like that anymore."
Pennywise was completely thrown.
He'd existed for millennia, devoured the fear of countless generations, and had never encountered this. These children... weren't afraid of him?
Just then, Emma—who'd been silent—moved.
She slowly walked up to Pennywise. As he opened his mouth wide, revealing rows of shark-like teeth, Emma pulled the paring knife from behind her back and, without any dramatic flourish, stabbed directly at Pennywise's yellow eye!
The sudden attack caught him completely off guard.
MEANWHILE - ACROSS TOWN
Edward stood outside the Springwood Police Department, pulling on his jacket as Lieutenant Thompson walked him out.
"You sure you don't want a ride home?" Thompson asked, looking exhausted.
"Nah, I'm good. Fresh air'll do me good," Edward replied.
Thompson nodded, then paused. "Listen, kid. I don't know what the hell you and your friends are, but... thanks. Those killers would've racked up a lot more bodies if you hadn't been there."
Edward just smiled. "Wrong place, wrong time for them. Right place, right time for us."
As he walked away, he pulled out his phone to check for messages.
Three missed calls from Mrs. Connor.
Shit. He'd forgotten about the three little terrors being out trick-or-treating.
He was about to call back when his senses suddenly prickled.
Something was wrong. Not here—somewhere else in town.
A familiar dark energy, ancient and hungry.
And three other presences he recognized immediately.
"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me," Edward muttered, already running for where he'd parked the Fenrir.
Those three idiots had found trouble.
Or more accurately—trouble had found them.
And Edward had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what kind of trouble.
29 Neibolt Street, he thought grimly as the motorcycle roared to life.
Of course it would be there.
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