Party Into the Void

I woke up unassisted by my alarm the morning of Halloween, immediately excited, and surprised I'd been able to sleep at all. My first thought was to wonder who was going to work the third shift at the fourth jump-scare corner tonight. It had been my last thought before falling asleep, too, because my deranged entertainer had dropped out the afternoon before, and I had yet to get a solid replacement nailed down. All the good haunted house performers had been working for months and were already booked on their busiest night. But I'd be damned if the best Halloween party in the city, my Halloween party, went down over a crazed centaur.

I crawled out of bed and started some coffee brewing. Out of consideration to my roommates and the early hour, I refrained from singing, managing to hold myself to a quiet hum with the occasional, "Ghostbusters!" It took me three cups of coffee to make a pile on the bed of everything I'd need to take with me when I went to set up the party - three costume changes, various pieces I'd promised to staff and attendees, and the mandatory spares for anyone who showed up without a costume. Thankfully with a lot of help I'd set up almost everything in the few days prior, but there are always last minute contingencies to prepare for.

It wasn't even 9am by the time I'd made it to the space. As I was climbing out of my car and wrangling my bags I saw two people in dour suits snooping around the building. I wrote it off as Halloween geocaching and let myself into the stairs up to the loft.

I had a couple more cups of coffee and by the time everyone else started to arrive, I'd already been pacing around, adjusting fake cobweb, and mumbling to myself about blind corners for a couple hours. A Spotify radio station based on "Monster Mash," was at full blast. I gratefully retreated to our green room to let the technicians, performers, and security settle in without me getting in the way. Through an episode of furious texting, I'd called in a favor to get a Burning Man satyr-type in retirement to cover my fourth jump scare, but he couldn't make it until nearly showtime, so I was doomed to stress about that until the hammer dropped. Occasionally, my event manager, Karen, popped in with questions or decisions for me to sign off on. She was already outfited in dryad makeup and leafy capris. At some point, she ushered in the geocachers.

I was midway through the intricate process of painting my face to look like a demonic black goat. I'd only practiced once before, following along with a Youtube tutorial, so I was feeling a little hopeless at my progress. I took a little solace in the raised eyebrows of both the serious-looking people now crowding into my greenroom. Simultaneously, they reached into their coats and pulled out badges.

The taller of them, a white guy with dark finance hair and a squinting expression in his moody eyes, introduced them, "I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder and this is my partner Dana Scully. We're with the FBI. Would you mind if we asked you a few questions?"

"Uhh, sure," I leaned forward to peer at their badges, and they helpfully thrust them closer to me. As if I'd know what to look for to distinguish counterfeit FBI identification. I didn't think I had anything to hide, "Did you want to see my liquor license or something?"

Scully had a focused expression as she stared at my half-painted face. "We're here to investigate the disappearance of a girl named Darcy Jarp. Does she look familiar?" Scully pulled a picture out of a different pocket than her badge, and showed it to me. Darcy looked pretty unremarkable, with vaguely blond hair, blue eyes, and a forced-looking smile in what was obviously her acting headshot. Brick wall background. I looked up from the photo and shook my head at Agent Scully, whose looks one definitely could remark on.

Mulder narrowed his eyes even further and cocked his head at me. "She was last seen working in the haunted house at your party, a year ago today."

Oh shit.That got my attention. I'd feel horrible if someone working my party got into any kind of trouble because of it, not to mention the fear of exposing my guests that night to any danger. I leaned back down to re-examine Darcy's picture, but I still didn't recognize her. Then I realized something.