Chapter 1

At first glance, Hartwick Hollow looks like any other small town in Midwest America.

Historic buildings line each side of Main Street, pickup trucks roar too loud and too fast down the potholed streets, bored shop owners lean against counters and gaze outside windows, as if wondering where their lives have gone. Old people die. College kids leave and never come back. And time marches on, leaving little towns like this behind, fading into dust and memories.

But I'm being a little dramatic.

Yeah, usually this small town is boring as hell. Most days, I spend my time watching the world go by and wishing I was anywhere but here. But other days…

Other days I have to fight monsters.

****

Now you might be wondering how I, Samuel Hain, unimportant resident of Nowhere U.S.A, became a certified monster hunter. Well, it's kind of a long story. I'll give you the short version.

As you might have guessed, my family isn't the most normal one to ever exist. I mean, just look at my name. Sam Hain isn't exactly subtle. If you don't know, Samhain is the ancient Celtic word for what we now call Halloween. It's also the name of the creepy pumpkin-headed kid in the horror classic Trick-r-Treat. Yeah, yeah, I know - it's a stupid name. But it's not like I had any say in it, you know? You'll have to blame my parents for that one.

Speaking of parents, I guess I'll introduce them. Well, my dad at least. My mom died a long time ago. But that's a story for another day. I was just a baby when she died, so I really don't remember her at all. My dad though? He's pretty cool. Even though he's had to raise me on his own, he's done pretty well for himself. He's one of the only doctors in town, so he makes good money - the reason we could afford our big, Victorian-style house on the end of Poe Street.

As the town doctor, my dad has had to deal with all of the usual things. Babies being born, kids with the flu, broken bones, and the like. But his practice looks a little different too. You see, not all monsters are bad. And sometimes they need a doctor, just like anyone else. When a werewolf comes down with moon-sickness, or a vampire ingests some bad blood, they know they can get the help they need from my dad. He's helped hundreds of monsters over the years.

Monsters like my mom.

But again...that's a story for another day.

****

September 13th started out like any other day in early fall.

Kids were busy going back to school after a summer that ended too quickly, storefronts were decorating their windows with pumpkins and scarecrows, excited for the start of holiday shopping. It had been a hot summer, and this day in mid-September was the first time we had felt any chill in the air.

I have to admit, fall is my favorite time of year. I know, might as well dress in plaid and start drinking pumpkin-spice lattes if I going to be that basic - fall seems to be everybody's favorite time of year these days.

But it's not just the cooler days, the comforting overcast skies and colorful trees that I like. Like everyone knows, fall is spooky season. Suddenly monsters are everywhere, from stores to front porches, to school hallways. Cackling witches and grinning skulls cheerfully line every street, and vampires, ghouls, and werewolves aren't just accepted, but celebrated. And while it may just be for a couple of months out of the year, it's a time that makes me feel like everyone really believes monsters and creatures of the night exist. And for a little while, I feel less alone.

"So, Sam, are you gonna volunteer at the Haunted Hay-walk with me or not?"

I turned to look at my friend Scott and sighed. Scott - or Scooter, as everyone usually calls him - is one of those guys who could literally talk your ear off about anything, regardless of how much he cared. And when he does care about something…God help you, because you're never gonna hear the end of it.

"I don't know," I answered, looking at him sideways, "do you even want to volunteer? It sounds like it's going to be pretty lame."

"It's not lame; besides, I thought you loved Halloween."

"I do love Halloween. But 'Haunted Hay-walk'? Seriously? Was Haunted Hay-ride just too cool for this town or something?"

Scooter rolled his eyes.

"Come on, you know they had to nix the tractors…after the little incident from last year…but it's still going to be fun! All you have to do is dress up in a creepy costume and scare people. Plus, we'll get free tickets. You could take Bethany."

"Why would I take Bethany?" I said - a little too quickly, but Scooter played along.

"She likes spooky weird stuff just like you. We could all go, together, for the rest of the season, for free."

I sighed again.

"Listen, I'll think about it, ok? No promises."

I added the last part as he was already doing a little victory dance complete with an attempted high-five.

"I just don't know if I'll have time," I added, "I've been helping my dad with a lot of stuff around the office."

"Lame."

"Yeah, I know."

My friends all know that I help my dad with stuff at his office all the time; things like cleaning up, filing papers, and other mundane chores. Little do they know, it gets a lot more exciting than that.

"Well, either way," Scooter said, his face lighting up with excitement, "this Halloween is going to be lit. I've already got my costume planned for…"

Scoot's voice trailed off, and when I followed his gaze, I saw what it was that had made him shut down. Or rather, who it was. It shouldn't have surprised us to see Cole Kinston standing in the front yard of the Mayor's house - it was his yard, after all - but it was a jump-scare, nonetheless.

Cole grinned when he spotted us, his mouth curling up on one side in a way that made my stomach turn. I always thought that if a Ken doll came to life and was animated by pure evil, it would probably look something like Cole Kinston.

"Oh, hey Casper!" He called out to Scooter, who immediately shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and stared at the ground. Scooter had always been self-conscious of his looks; he wasn't just the whitest kid in school, but the whitest kid I'd ever seen, with skin that was almost translucent and blond hair that was one shade off from snow. His pale skin made his aggressive smattering of freckles that much more noticeable, and while no one would have said he was ugly, he hated the way he always stood out in a crowd. So it didn't help that Cole's chosen moniker for him was 'Casper the friendly ghost'.

"Shut up, Cole," I said, glaring at him. He just flashed me a grin of perfectly-straight teeth and laughed.

"Oh?" he asked, blue eyes glittering in his tan face, "are you gonna make me?"

I rolled my eyes. Of course I could never get into it with Cole; the guy stood a head and shoulders taller than me and outweighed me by at least thirty pounds. So Scooter and I did what we always did - ignored him and kept walking. Cole didn't care; as long as he could make our day a little more sucky, he was happy. He was never really looking for a fight.

"See ya around," he called after us as we continued our way down the sidewalk, "and cheer up, Casper! Halloween is almost here!"

"Don't listen to him," I told Scooter as we continued on, watching him as his pale face turned red. He just laughed it off.

"Doesn't bother me," he said. But I could tell that was a lie, considering he barely said a word until we made it to my street.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," he said as we went our separate ways - him continuing straight towards the trailer park, and me taking a left down Poe Street.

"See ya then, Scoot," I replied.

"And keep thinking about the Hay-walk!"

I rolled my eyes and waved him off. He was never going to let it go.

The breeze picked up as I made my way down the long street towards my house. The leaves of the trees that lined the street were just beginning to turn yellow, with the slightest hints of orange burning on the edges of the fire maples. Fallen acorns crunched beneath my feet as I reached the driveway; in front of me loomed the three-story Victorian home that sat alone at the very end of this lonely street. The black wrought-iron fence which encircled it and the dark wood which covered its exterior gave the house a creepy vibe - which was fitting, considering who lived there.

I climbed the front steps and let myself inside. I kicked off my shoes and let my backpack slide off my shoulders and fall to the dark hardwood floor.

"Hey, dad, I'm home," I called, my voice echoing in the empty hallway. I heard footsteps coming down the hall, and a moment later my dad appeared. His glasses were perched precariously on the end of his nose, and his thinning brown hair was ruffled. He narrowed his eyes when he saw me and crossed his arms over his chest. He did not look happy.

"It's about time," he said, "where have you been? You should have been here half an hour ago."

I stared at him for a second, confused. Yeah, school had let out almost an hour ago; and yeah, I was usually home earlier. But it wasn't unheard of for me and Scooter to idle like we had today, sometimes stopping in the comic book store or just taking our time going home. I'd often come home late, and my dad had never had an issue with it before.

"I was just hanging out with Scoot," I explained, "I guess we lost track of time."

"Well, you need to keep track of time," Dad snapped, "or at least let me know when you'll be late."

"Ok," I said, taken aback by his serious tone, "yeah, I'll let you know next time. I'm sorry."

Dad uncrossed his arms and ran a hand over his head, which only served to muss his hair even more.

"Ok," he said, more calmly now, "make sure you do that. And don't forget you have Mrs. Murdoch tonight."

"I didn't forget," I replied. He just nodded distractedly and walked away.

That was weird. My dad rarely gets angry; it usually takes me doing something immensely stupid to invoke any kind of wrath from him. I had a creeping feeling that something bad must have happened - something he wasn't about to tell me. My dad and I had never kept secrets from each other - but now I was wondering how true that was. Unfortunately, I wouldn't have too much time to ponder it; it was time to head over to Mrs. Murdoch's house.

Mrs. Murdoch lives two houses down from us, on the other side of Poe Street, though it still takes me a few minutes to walk there since all the houses on this side of town are spaced so far apart.

The breeze was picking up even more as I reached her door, making the many wind chimes on her porch sway and jingle. I knocked loudly on the door, and heard the muffled call of 'come in' from inside.

I let myself in. It was completely dark inside the house. I felt my way along the wall until I found the light switch and flipped it on.

"Hi, Mrs. Murdoch," I called out into the dark hallway.

"In the kitchen, Sammy," I heard her call.

I followed the sound of her voice, nearly tripping on her cat Binne, who shrieked loudly in protest.

"Sorry, Binne," I muttered, as I stumbled into the kitchen and again felt along the wall for the light switch.

"Did I forget to leave a light on for you?" Mrs. Murdoch asked.

"It's alright," I replied cheerfully, "I know my way around."

Mrs. Murdoch was standing at the stove, hunched over a kettle of tea and dressed in her usual attire of a fluffy robe and slippers. Her long gray hair hung nearly to her waist, and she hummed a little tune as she moved the kettle to the counter, feeling her way around the cabinet as she reached for a pair of mugs.

"Sit down, I'll pour you a cup of tea," she said, her Irish accent musical, "can't expect to get anything done before a cup of tea."

I obliged, first helping her get out the cream and sugar before taking a seat at the table. Mrs. Murdoch sat across from me, skillfully pouring us each a cup of tea. Her milky-white eyes seemed to stare into me as she pressed the teacup into my hand.

"Now tell me about your day," she insisted, "how was school?"

I sipped my tea before answering. This little ritual was a daily part of me and Mrs. Murdoch's routine; and, I sometimes thought, the most important part. Sure, helping her with the chores - weeding the garden, taking the trash out, cleaning up after her old cat - that was all important, but what Mrs. Murdoch really paid me for, I thought, was so she could have a little bit of company in this lonely house once in awhile. It didn't seem to matter that it was always the same conversations that we had…most of the time.

"School was fine, I guess," I answered finally, "Scooter's trying to get me to volunteer at the Hay-walk this year…kind of won't shut up about it, but you know Scooter. My dad's in a weird mood and I don't know why."

Mrs. Murdoch had been stirring sugar into her tea, but suddenly she froze.

"What do you mean?" She asked. I shrugged.

"He just seemed really on edge today," I answered, "which is weird, for him."

Mrs. Murdoch stared past me, her blind eyes seeming to see something that I couldn't. I swallowed nervously. When a Banshee gets that sort of look, you know it can't be good. I didn't press her; I knew that, whatever it was she was thinking, she'd only tell me when the time was right.

I finished up my chores quickly that night; put the dumpster out to the end of the driveway, finished up the dishes, cleaned out Binne's litterbox. When I was finished, Mrs. Murdoch saw me to the door; but before I walked away, she put her hand on my arm to stop me.

"Be watchful of your father," she said, "I have felt a shifting of the wind; something dark is coming over your house."

I felt a shiver creep over my whole body, from the back of my neck to the soles of my feet. It wasn't the first time Mrs. Murdoch had said something strange and cryptic - she was a banshee, after all - but I couldn't remember if she'd ever mentioned my family in her predictions.

And the thing about banshee predictions?

They always come true.