James Harris stepped out of the backroom to give his new clothes a trial walk. He was 
dressed mostly in dark gray, with black boots and gloves, a yellow belt. The Batman 
emblem was displayed prominently across his chest. He walked a couple paces around the 
room as the man behind the counter nodded in approval.
	"So how's it feel?" he asked. His name was Sam, and he had a length of measuring 
tape draped over one shoulder.
	"Better," James said. "Not as tight as it was before. Think you could loosen it 
up a bit more, though?"
	"Hey, you're talking to Sam the Man. Of course I can. When do you need it by again?"
	"Tomorrow."
	"Ooh. That's gonna be cutting it close?"
	"But can you do it?"
	Sam smiled. "For L.A.'s finest? Of course I can." That was his motto. "Just go in 
the back and take it off, and I'll get to work on it this afternoon."
	"Thanks, Sam."
	Back in the rear room, James couldn't resist the urge to don the mask one more time 
before shedding the whole outfit and getting to work. He pulled the rubber mask on, 
adjusting it slightly, fixing the jaw so that it fit comfortably. It had been a couple 
years since he had last worn it, and while the clothes needed a little bit of adjustment, 
the mask still fit like a glove. He stood, marveling himself in the room, grabbing the 
cape with one hand. He narrowed his eyes, dropped his voice to a low level, and said, 
"I'm Batman."
	He was about to laugh when he heard Sam say, "Here's the money, just don't kill 
me." He turned sharply and stepped to the door, peering out. A young kid was at the 
counter, brandishing a shotgun, while Sam filled the bag with money. James instinctively 
reached for his gun, but then remember he had left it in the glove compartment of his 
Jeep. Sam was nervous around guns, so Kevin had complied and left it outside.
	"Police," he said, stepping out.
	The kid spun, bringing the shotgun up. But when he saw Batman standing in the 
doorway, he didn't exactly shake in his shoes. In fact, he started laughing. "Hey, 
Batfreak. Why don't you go back to Gotham and be with Robin."
	"He's serious," Sam said. "He's a cop."
	The kid looked between the two, the expression on his face turned from amused to 
nervous, and he let off two shots in James's direction. The detective dived out of the 
way as the buckshot pebbled the back room door and frame, and looked over the counter to 
see the kid running for the door.
	"Sam, you okay?"
	"I'm fine. Just get that little bastard!"
	James jumped to his feet and ran, the cape trailing behind him. He hit the sidewalk 
and saw the kid running with the flow of traffic, and took off in pursuit. People in their 
cars and at the tables of outdoor restaraunts stared and pointed as Batman pursued some 
fleeing kid with a bag, cutting across four lanes of traffic. James was already beginning 
to feel the heat building up inside the mask and considered pulling it off, but then he'd 
have to hold it. And he definitely wouldn't leave it behind, as someone might grab it, and 
then the costume would be incomplete.
	The kid ran fast in a combination of surprise and fright that BATMAN was chasing 
after him. What the hell was this, Gotham City? He dived between two people, shoving them 
out of the way, and they parted again as James cut between them. "Excuse me." The couple 
did a double-take at the Caped Crusder, then look at each other, dumbfounded.
	At the next corner, he came to a sudden halt as a FedEx truck sped by, blocking his 
route to run across the street. When he looked back, Batman was upon him, tackling him to 
the ground. An oncoming car screeched to a stop less than three feet away. People rushed 
over to see what was going on.
	James stood, pushing the cape back out of his way. The kid looked up with exhausted 
eyes, breathing heavily. "Who are you?"
	James gave the slightest trace of a smirk and said in a low voice, "I'm Batman." 
Then he dragged the kid to his feet and led him away. "Come on. Back to Arkham for you."

The police station appeared completely deserted, being so close to midnight. Halloween 
was just another twenty-three minutes away. Chase McDonald walked down the hall, 
returning from the soda machines with a bottle of Brisk Ice Tea and holding some manila 
folders. He didn't seem at all alarmed by the fact that he was probably the only person 
in the building. In fact, he was actually enjoying it. 
	"Wish it was always this quiet," he mumbled to himself as he sat down. He twisted 
the cap off the bottle and took a drink, then opened the files and started going through 
their contents, spreading papers everywhere. He was reading over the first sheet when he 
thought he heard something. He looked up and glanced about, but saw nothing. Shrugging 
his shoulders, he took another drink and turned back to the papers. 
	But the detective wasn't alone. Someone else was in the station, quietly stepping 
out of the elevator, his feet falling barely audible on the floor. He turned into the 
hall leading to the main squad area. He walked slowly, nearing Captain Jensen's closed 
office. Suddenly, that famous, creepy theme music from Halloween began to play. The 
person stopped in their tracks. 
	Chase was fiddling around with a small portable TV he had set up on his desk, 
waving the antennae back and forth, trying to clear up the static as the opening credits 
to the film played. "Come on," he complained. "Stupid machine." 
	The person resumed walking, coming closer to the squad area . . . closer, closer 
still. The music grew louder, and as he reached the corner, he leaped forward with a loud, 
"Boo!" 
	Chase jumped back in his chair, yelling out in a combination of shock and fear. 
Laughing hysterically, August Brooks pulled the grotesque goblin mask from his head. He 
was cracking up. "Oh, man," he said, wiping the tears from his face. "Ooh-hoo." 
	"That wasn't funny," Chase said angrily, grabbing his papers and rearranging them. 
	August walked to his desk and tossed the mask down. "You should've seen your face, 
Mac. What I wouldn't give to have it all over again with a camera." 
	Chase grabbed some papers and walked over to a row of file cabinets. "Glad you 
find it so funny," he said, pulling a drawer out. 
	August reached over and picked up the TV. The reception cleared up as he brought 
it toward him. The main credits had ended, and the opening scene was just starting. 
"The horror classic," he said, walking around and sitting in his chair. 
	Chase pushed the drawer in and came back to his desk. "I thought you went home." 
	August was watching the TV, holding it up like a Nintendo GameBoy. "I just left 
an hour ago to give you enough time to think you were alone," he said, starting to laugh 
again. "I've been waiting for that moment all year." 
	Chase just smirked at him as he sat down. "Well, looks like that case is all 
wrapped up. Report's in the captain's box and everything's filed away." 
	"You doing anything special for Halloween?" 
	Chase shook his head. "Nope. Little old to be out trick-or-treating. What about 
you?" 
	"Kendra and I are going to the Halloween party the department's throwing. Why 
don't you come along?" 
	Chase rolled his eyes, leaning his head back and putting his feet up on the desk. 
"I don't want to go to a Halloween party. What am I gonna dress up as?" 
	"How about Tarzan?" August suggested with a laugh. 
	"Yeah, right. Spend four hours in nothing but a loincloth in front of a room full 
of mostly strangers? No thanks. Are you and Kendra dressing up for it?" 
	August set the little TV on the desktop and adjusted the antennae a bit. "She is. 
She's trying to get me to dress up, though." 
	Chase turned his chair around to face his partner. "As what?" 
	"The hell if I know. Yesterday it was M.C. Hammer, day before it was Candyman. 
This morning she said me and you should go as Mel Gibson and Danny Glover." 
	"Really?" Chase sat up, excited. 
	"But you see, the problem with that is that Mel Gibson only plays a psycho 
on-screen." 
	Chase's smile faded away as his partner's words sunk in. "What's that supposed 
to mean?"



The room was dark, lit only by the hundreds of candles arranged on holders or stone 
platforms. Intricate symbols were scrawled in black chalk on the floor and walls. At 
the front of the room, a rectangular stone altar was set up on a dais. Two identical 
symbols were drawn on the top. On the floor before the altar, a small group of hooded 
figures stood, their long robes touching the ground. They swayed gently side to side, 
uttering a mysterious chant. 
	From an open door on one side of the room, two cowled men came through, carrying 
someone. They climbed the steps and set the person on the altar, then took up their 
positions on either end of the dais. It was a girl, young and pretty, with long blond 
hair. She wore a white robe with streaks of red and a large V-neck collar. She was 
clearly drugged. Her eyes were open, but she seemed to be in a daze, rolling her head 
left to right as if nothing was wrong. 
	The chants from the group quieted as a man stepped into the room and made his way 
onto the dais. He was tall, wearing a long flowing robe more impressive than any of the 
others, with large sleeves. His face was hidden by a hood. He stepped behind the altar 
and put a hand on the girl's forehead. "Blessed child," he said quietly. "You should 
feel extremely honored for having been chosen for a ceremony that will help return the 
Ancient One, and restore evil and treachery to the world." 
	He reached under his robe and withdrew a knife with a large blade. Clasping it in 
both hands, he raised the weapon above his head. "Child," he boomed. "The time of 
resurrection is near." 
	With that, the knife came slashing down through the air.



The camera flashed, and the photographer moved around to get a better angle on the body, 
standing with his back to the sun. The young girl's body was lying in a heap of garbage 
bags outside the alley door of a restaurant. The scene was crawling with uniformed 
officers. 
	Chase and August pulled up and climbed out. "Perfect way to start the day, hu?" 
They set off toward the string of police tape, ducking under as a uniformed cop met them 
halfway. "One of the employees found the body," he said, leading them toward the scene. 
"Came out to throw some garbage into the dumpster, saw her laying there." 
	"Anything else?" Chase asked. 
	The officer shook his head. "That's all he said. He ran back inside and told his 
manager, manager called 911." 
	Chase pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and knelt to inspect the body. "Female," 
he said. "Young. Probably 25, 26." He put a hand on her shoulder and rolled her over 
slightly. The front of the robe was colored a deep shade of crimson. "Looks like she 
was stabbed." 
	"How many times?" August said, kicking around the surrounding trash with his feet. 
	"Just once it looks like." Chase stood. "Find anything?" 
	His partner shook his head. "Nothing." 
	"What do you make of that robe she's wearing?" 
	August turned and stood back, looking at it. "I don't know." He crouched to get a 
closer look. "Looks like a Halloween costume. She might have been at a party." He stood, 
brushing the dirt from his knees. "Any ID?" 
	Chase shook his head. "No. Let's have Cragmeyer run her prints."



"Hey, Harris. Looking good," a cop said. 
	"Not bad, Harris," said another. 
	"Thanks, guys." James Harris walked through the crowded station, attracting the 
attention of everyone. He stopped at Chase's desk and said, "What's up, Chase?" 
	Chase turned in his chair and stopped. James stood before him, dressed in a rather 
convincing Batman costume, complete with cape and cowl. "Wow, Harris," Chase said, 
standing up. "That's a great costume. Where'd you get it?" 
	"I've had it for a couple years," he said. He pulled the mask off and ran a hand 
through his hair. "Back in '97 I did a volunteer thing at a foster center up in Seattle. 
I had to dress as the kids' favorite superhero, and the Dark Knight won out. They let 
me keep the costume." 
	"You going to the Halloween party tonight?" 
	"I don't know. Probably celebrate like I did last year. Pizza and the Halloween 
marathon on the Sci-Fi Channel. But I figured I'd spend the day in this. Imagine the 
news coverage? Me dressed like Batman chasing some perp down the street?" They both 
laughed. "I'll see you later," he said and left, pulling the mask back on. 
	When August came into the room a few moments later, he was looking back over his 
shoulder. "Was that James?" 
	"Yeah." 
	"He just scared some drunk guy sober yelling, 'I am Batman.' Here, check this out." 
He handed Chase a sheet of paper. "The girl's prints just came in. Name's Linda Soles. 
25, single, no relatives in the city. She just moved her a month ago. Got her address." 
	"Okay. Let's check it out."



The landlord unlocked the door to Room 12 and pushed it open for the detectives. "Thanks, 
ma'am," August said. 
	It was a studio apartment, with the living room doubling as a bedroom, a compact 
kitchenette, a small corner set up as a semi-den, and a door that led to the bathroom. 
There was nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing looked missing or out of place. No windows 
were broken, and the door showed no signs of having been forced open. "Looks like a dead 
end," Chase said, looking out the window near the stove. 
	August saw that the light on the answering machine was blinking. "Mac." 
	"Yeah?" 
	"Answering machine," he said, pointing as Chase walked up. He pressed the button. 
	"Linda, are you there? Hello? Where are you? You said you were gonna call me but 
you never did. We need your answer in your two days. It's six o'clock on the thirtieth. 
Call me as soon as you get this so we'll know. Bye." 
	"Oh, now why didn't she leave her name?" Chase pouted. "Now we have to go to the 
phone company and have her records pulled." 
	August looked back at the phone. "Hmmm. I wonder." He lifted the receiver and 
dialed *69. "It's ringing." 
	After three rings, a female voice answered, "Hello?" 
	"Hi, this is Detective August Brooks, with the LAPD. Who am I speaking with?" 
	"Nancy Carruthers." 
	"Miss Carruthers, did you call Linda Soles at six o'clock yesterday?" 
	"Yes, I did." He could hear the alarm in her voice. "Is something wrong?" 
	"Well, we found your message on her answering machine, and . . . Ma'am, I think 
it'd be better if we talked in person."



Thirty minutes later, they were sitting in Nancy's living room. She was 27, sitting in a 
chair with her legs curled up. The detectives sat on the couch opposite her. "I can't 
believe it," she said. "I mean, I was just talking to her two days ago. Some friends and 
I were planning a white water rafting trip, and Linda said she might like to come with us. 
She said she'd call later that night and let me know, but . . . she never did." 
	"How long had you known Linda?" August asked. 
	"Almost a month," she replied. "I met her just a couple days after she moved here." 
	Chase asked, "Did she have any other friends that you might know of?" 
	Nancy shook her head. "Maybe some, but I think most of the people she knew where 
myself and my friends." 
	"Nancy," August said, "in the time that you knew her, did you know of anything she 
liked to do personally? Hobbies, stuff like that?" 
	"Well, she liked baseball. And dancing. In fact, she said she was going dancing the 
other day." 
	"When?" 
	"Two days ago. When I asked her about going on the trip with us, she said she'd call 
me after she got back from dancing." 
	"Do you know the name of the place she went to?" Chase asked, hoping she did. 
	"No. Sorry." 
	"That's okay," Chase said, standing. He handed her a card. "If you remember anything 
else, don't hesitate to call." 
	"Okay," she said, and they headed for the door. 
	As they walked to the curb, August said, "Let's get a list made of all the dance 
clubs in the area." 
	"I'll call Harris," Chase said as they climbed into their car and drove away.



The door to the room opened, and the tall man in the robe stood in the doorway. Sitting 
on the bed was a young girl, arms folded around her knees. It was obvious she had been 
crying. She was blond, and wore a white robe identical to the kind Linda Soles had been 
found in. She looked up, terrified as her captor walked forward and towered over her. 
	Raising his hands, the man pushed the hood back from his head and looked at her. 
"It is time, my child."



Chase and August hit the streets, visiting every dance club along their route. While a 
lot of them weren't open, most had people working, cleaning up from the previous night, 
but no one had seen Linda Soles. They spent hour after hour traversing the streets. 
	Three hours later, Chase said, "Okay. Thanks," and turned off his cell phone as 
August walked out of a club. "That was Richardson. Him and Harris are hitting the same 
dead ends we are." 
	"Nothing here, either," August said. They got into the car and started driving. 
"Harris still dressed like Batman?" 
	Chase laughed. "Richardson said Captain Jensen forced him to take it off." 
	"So what's next?" 
	Chase looked at his spiral notepad. "Let's see . . . The Spider Lounge." 
	August shook his head at the name. They pulled in front of the place ten minutes 
later and went it. One of the employees didn't know the answer to their questions, but 
told them to wait while he got the manager, whom he said always kept up with who's who 
in his place. 
	The detectives were waiting at the bar when the man came up. He walked toward 
them with his hand out, smiling. "Detectives, hi," he said. "Daniel Wynn. How can I help 
you?" 
	"Mr. Wynn," Chase said, "we you here at the club on the twenty-ninth?" 
	"I'm always here. It's my club, it's my job to show up all the time and make sure 
the people are enjoying themselves." 
	"Do you know . . . " Chase took a picture from his pocket and showed it to Wynn. 
"Linda Soles?" 
	Wynn took the picture and studied it. "She does look familiar. I might have seen 
her around here." 
	"One of the employees told us that you like to keep up on who's who in your club," 
August said. 
	Wynn laughed. "Well, if someone's new to the club it takes a while for me to find 
out about them. If she started coming just recently, I'm not aware. But I'd know her if 
she'd been here for a month or so." 
	"What kind of dance place is this, Mr. Wynn?" Chase asked, gesturing about. "The 
Spider Lounge doesn't really go with the interior." 
	"Yeah, well, we used to be a more techno/rap music-type dance club, but I think 
jazz and big band are making a comeback. We are planning a name-change." 
	Chase took the photo back and returned it to his pocket. "Do you have security 
cameras installed?" 
	"Yes, we do. We've had some problems in the past. When you catch employees 
pocketing the money instead of it going into the register, you tend to want to keep an 
eye on everybody you hire after that."
	August asked, "Do you think we could take a look at the footage from the twenty-
ninth?" 
	Wynn hesitated a moment, as if he wasn't sure, then said, "Sure. No problem. Come 
on in back." 
	Moments later, the detectives walked out with the videotape. Wynn stood at the 
door, watching as the two climbed into their car. When they were gone, he turned and 
walked back to the bar, grabbing the phone from behind the counter. He dialed quickly. 
	"Yeah, it's me," he said when the other end was answered. "Listen, um . . . We 
may have a problem."



The police station looked like a crisis center as Chase and August came down the hall. 
Uniformed and plain-clothed officers were all over, escorting arrests back and forth, 
exchanging folders over the heads of others, shouting out leads to one another, and 
asking about clues and such. And in the middle of it all was Captain Jensen, looking 
extremely irritated at having to deal with so much. 
	"What's going on, Captain?" Chase asked. 
	"Christ. Man, this is the craziest day of the year. We got every scumbag and psycho 
in the city in this place. We've been making arrests since six this morning: robbery, 
vandalism, purse-snatching. It's like Halloween triggers the criminal gene in everyone. 
How that's homicide coming along?" 
	"Nothing solid so far," August said. 
	"Okay. Keep me posted," he said, and started to leave. "Oh, I almost forgot. I 
spoke with the FBI earlier. They're sending one of their men out." 
	"What for, Captain?" Chase asked. 
	"Don't know. But their agent's due in by this evening," the captain said, then got 
distracted as he saw somebody he needed to talk to. "Harris! Harris, get over here!" He 
stalked off to catch up to the detective. 
	"Not the FBI," Chase complained, walking down to the large video playback station. 
	"Shoenrock, Jr.?" August suggested playfully. 
	"Please." Chase inserted the tape and hit the PLAY button, then sat down as the 
footage began playing. The date and time were displayed in the lower right-hand corner 
of the screen. Chase took the Polaroid of Linda Soles and set it beside the screen, to 
have a reference incase they thought they spotted her on the tape. 
	It was nearly fifty minutes later when Chase said, "There she is." They leaned 
forward as he pointed to her on the screen. She had just come into the bottom of the 
frame and turned to look back, and there was a brief moment were they could see her 
face. Chase ran the tape back and let it play again, pausing when she turned. He looked 
closely. "Yeah, that's her," he said. "Okay. Let's see what happens."
	Chase hit PLAY again and sat back. As they watched, Linda made her way into the 
crowd, heading toward the bar. There she said something to the bartender, and a moment 
later, a small glass was placed before her on a napkin and filled with a drink. She 
took the glass and turned around, leaning back against the bar, as if waiting for 
someone. 
	Ten minutes passed. She ordered a re-fill, then waited some more. Several minutes 
later, a man came into frame and made his way toward the bar. They saw Linda make a 
waving motion to him, as if to signal him to her. The man came toward her as she set 
the glass back on the bar. They embraced and kissed passionately. 
	Both detectives raised an eyebrow and glanced at one another. "August, August, 
look." Chase pointed to a familiar face on the screen. "It's Wynn."
	Daniel Wynn made his way toward them as they came out of their embrace. "I think 
Mr. Wynn has got some explaining to do." Wynn put a hand on the man's shoulder and said 
something with a smile, then gestured toward the back of the room. He said something 
to Linda that made her laugh, and then started away. The man and Linda put their arms 
around each other and followed Wynn across the floor to the back of the club, were 
they all went into a room. The door shut behind them. 
	Chase ran the tape forward to see if they ever came out. The tape ran all the way 
through to the very end, when the club closed around three in the morning, and the screen 
filled with snowy static. "Damn," Chase said, hitting the STOP button and sitting back. 
	"Let's see if Cragmeyer's got anything yet."



"I'm sorry," Daniel Wynn said. He was standing in the ceremonial room, surrounded by 
flickering candles. The hooded man stood behind the altar with his back to Wynn. "They 
were the police. I had no choice." 
	"They'll discover that we're connected. When they do, you will be questioned 
about yourself, me, and our activities here." 
	"They won't have to know nothing," Wynn assured him. "They don't have to know 
what we do. I could just convince that we're only acquaintances. You know, throw them 
off a bit; by us some time to finish. It's only one more day." 
	The hooded figure said nothing for a moment. "Possibly," he said. "But there's 
still the chance they will find out." 
	"Look, I'll stall them. When they see me on the tape and come back to the club, 
I'll just say . . . whatever. I'll lie to them. I'll throw them off like I said. 
Midnight is less than ten hours away. I can keep them off our backs for that long." 
	"What of the final sacrifice?" He turned to face Wynn, but the club manager 
couldn't see his face. "We need a third girl who meets the qualifications to be 
sacrificed." 
	Wynn held up his hands. "Don't you worry," he said. "I'll scope out the club 
tonight. Being Halloween, believe me, there'll be plenty to choose from." 
	"Go. When you find one, call me." 
	"Yes." 
	When he had gone, the man put his hands on the altar and looked down at the 
drawings on the top. "Soon," he said. "Soon you will live again, and your power will 
prevail. Very soon."



As Chase and August came into the forensics lab, Cragmeyer quickled scrambled to throw 
a blanket over one of the tables, covering something they didn't have time to see. 
"Cragmeyer," Chase said. "What are you up to now?" 
	He walked around the table, making sure nothing was visible, adjusting the blanket 
as needed. "Working on my Halloween costume for the party, Chase," he said. 
	August just looked at him. "A costume so secretive you have to cover it up?" 
	"Well, I can't afford someone to steal my idea," Cragmeyer said. August grabbed a 
corner of the blanket and pretended to lift it. "Hey, hey." Cragmeyer darted forward and 
took it from him, putting it back down. "No peaking." 
	"Find anything on the girl?" Chase asked. 
	"Indeed I did." They walked over to the desk. "Linda Soles had traces of a mild 
sedative in her blood." He opened a file and handed them the appropriate paper. "Not 
enough to prove lethal, but just enough to put her into sort of a laid-back stage where 
she didn't really care what's going on around her." 
	Chase looked up from the paper. "Anything else?" 
	"Yeah. I talked to Samantha, down at the coroner's office, and she said the body 
had . . . an unsual marking." 
	"An unusual marking?" August asked, handing the paper back. 
	"Yeah. She said it was on the right wrist, just below the hand. Here. She faxed 
this over." From another folder he took a sheet and handed it to the detectives. It 
showed a close-up photo of Linda's right wrist, and the marking was clearly visible. 
"She said she'd never seen it before. What do you guys make of it?" 
	Both of them shook their heads. "Stumped me," Chase said. "August?" 
	"Me, too. Definitely something you don't see everyday." 
	"If I might suggest it," Cragmeyer said, "I mean, after all, this is Halloween." 
	August said, "What?" 
	"Well, there's been various reports over the years of Satanic rituals occurring 
right around and on Halloween." 
	"You think this might be some kind of cult thing?" Chase asked. 
	"That symbol would certainly suggest it. I'm not saying that's what it is, but I 
wouldn't rule it out if I were you guys."
	The detectives just stood there, looking at the mysterious symbol.

A blood-curdling scream. Chase looked up to see a guy in a Santa Claus costume being 
hauled through by two officers struggling to keep a grip on him. The man was shouting 
something about being the "savior of the human race," and that he was going to protect 
them all from the end of the world. 
	August laughed as the guy was taken out of the room. "So are you coming to the 
party tonight, Mac?" 
	"I haven't decided yet." 
	"Hey, guys," a familiar voice said from behind them. 
	It was Judith Sands, the more popular of the police psychologists, for more-than-
obvious reasons. She was wearing her usual business attire: high heels, skirt, and 
jacket over a red top. She was holding a folder, and her blond hair had grown out since 
they had last seen her, hanging down to her shoulders. 
	"Judith," Chase said. "Long time no see. What are you doing down here?" 
	"I'm on my way to see a guy who thinks he's a werewolf," she said, smiling. 
	August laughed. "Guess the captain was right. Halloween does bring out every 
weirdo in the city. Is weirdo an official psychiatric term, Judith?" 
	"I'm sure some psychologists reference it off the record. I'll see you guys later." 
She started to leave. 
	"Oh, Judith," Chase said. "Are coming to the department Halloween party tonight?" 
	"Of course. I go every year." 
	"What are you dressing as?" 
	She just looked at him with a coy smile. "You'll have to go to find out," she said 
and left. 
	The two of them watched her leave. "Maybe I'll go to the party after all, August." 
	"You know, Mac, I still can't believe you broke up with her. There's a million 
guys out there who would probably kill just to have a woman like that." 
	Chase stood and gathered some papers. "Good ol' August. Still trying to set me up 
with women, hu?" His phone rang. "McDonald. We'll be right there." 
	"What's up?" 
	"Another body." 
	As they headed past the captain's office, they were stopped in the hall by a woman. 
"Excuse me. Where could I find Detectives Brooks and McDonald?" 
	"I'm Detective Brooks, this is Detective McDonald." 
	They exchanged handshakes. "Special Agent Laura Strode. I'm with the FBI." She was 
tall, with shoulder-length brunette hair and dressed in typical FBI clothing. 
	"You got here soon," Chase said. 
	"My people wanted me out here as quickly as possible." 
	August said, "We just got a call about a second victim if you want to join us." 
	"Definitely."



"Everything's the same as Linda Soles," Chase said. They were standing at the back of 
a large dirt field, the site of a new housing development. The body was among some 
bushes at the bottom of a short embankment. He picked up her right hand and turned it 
over. "Yeah. There it is." 
	August and Laura looked closely at the symbol down on the underside of her wrist. 
August said, "So our guy likes to take young blond girls, dress them up in nifty 
Halloween costumes, stab them, and then dump their bodies off." 
	Chase stood and pulled off his rubber gloves. "Do you know what this is?" he 
asked Laura. 
	She nodded. "Yeah. I do." 
	They climbed the embankment and headed toward their car as two paramedics 
approached with a gurney. August asked, "What's the FBI's interest in this case?" 
	Laura replied, "For the past two years I've been the head of a unit trying to 
solve similar murders." 
	"You mean this has happened before?" 
	"Yes." She took her briefcase from the back seat and laid it on the truck, opening 
it and removing a folder. "Last year on October 30 and 31, three female bodies were 
discovered. Each one was killed by a single stab wound to the heart, and each had a 
mysterious symbol drawn on the underside of the right wrist. The year before, the same 
thing. Three bodies, all female, all with the mark on their wrists." She pulled a 
Polaroid from a paperclip and showed it to them. "Look familiar?" 
	Chase took it and looked. The symbol was identical to the one on Linda Soles and 
the victim they had just looked at. "What is it?" 
	"My findings say that it's an ancient symbol used to ward off evil spirits and 
such. But, reversed, it's often used in resurrection sacrifices to help channel the 
spirit of whoever is being targeted for rebirth. The first time we thought it was just 
some sicko's unique way of killing innocent girls. When it happened a year later, we 
thought we had a seriel killer on our hands. But now that it's happening for a third 
time, we believe something more sinister is going on." 
	"Do you have any idea who's responsible?" August asked. 
	"When we started investigating the second series of killings last year," she said, 
"we were approached by a man who is quite knowledgeable when it comes to all-things 
occult. He helped us identify the symbol, and we linked it to a man named Nicolas Castle. 
He's got a pretty good list of priors leading up to 1998: armed robbery, assault, 
vandalism, arson, practically everything." 
	"Who is he?" August asked. 
	"Nicolas Castle was a priest in the 19th century who was denounced by the church 
after being caught performing a forbidden ritual. He was banished from ever returning, 
and so he fled across the country. He sacrificed three young women on October 31, 
attempting to resurrect an evil warlock who had been killed by witch-haters many years 
before." 
	"19th century?" Chase asked. 
	"Well, the Nicolas Castle we believe to be responsible for the murders is the 
original's descendent. It's kind of complicated. You see, the ritual could only be 
attemped by a mature man, with three attempts every century. But the original Castle 
died before he could try the following year. The . . . 'prophecy,' so to speak, was 
passed on from father to son." 
	"So if we get Castle," Chase said, "and assuming he doesn't have a son to pass the 
word along to the next century, then we're in the clear?" 
	"Exactly." 
	August asked, "And if Castle completes the final sacrifice?" 
	"Then mankind as we know it will be in very very deep trouble."



Captain Jensen was losing himself in a large sandwhich full of lettuce, tomatoes, and 
practically anything else that would fit between the two slices of bread when a knock 
fell on his door. "Come in," he said, his mouth full. 
	Chase walked in and approached his desk. "Captain," he said in mock-disgust. 
	Jensen hurried to finish chewing and swallowed. "Sorry," he said, reaching for a 
bottle of water. "All this chaos out there demanding my attention, I had to sneak 
myself in here to get something to eat. What's up? Any new info on the homicides?" 
	"Some strange info, Captain," Chase said, handing Jensen a sheet of paper. "First, 
we identified the second victim as Annie Brackett. Both her and Linda Soles had an 
unusual marking on the underside of their right wrists, just below the hand. According 
to Special Agent Strode, it's a symbol often used in sacrificial ceremonies." 
	"Special Agent Strode?" 
	"Yeah, the FBI agent. She's here already," Chase said, then continued. "Anyway, 
the FBI has been investigating identical murders that happened last year and the year 
before. There were three victims in all. All girls, young, blond, and each one had that 
marking on their wrist." 
	"So you think the girls were some sort of human sacrifice?" 
	"Special Agent Strode has identified the man responsible as Nicolas Castle. Back 
in the 19th century, one of Castle's ancestors attempted the first ceremony but failed. 
It could only be attemped three times per century, but the original Castle died before 
he could try it again. It's sort of a family thing, and it was passed down through the 
generations. So now the current descendant is making his third attempt to complete the 
ceremony." 
	Jensen looked like he was doing his best to keep up with everything. "And what 
happens if he does?" 
	"According to Agent Strode, he'll resurrect some evil warlock that'll destroy 
mankind." 
	"Sounds like a John Carpenter movie," Jensen said. "We have an address on him?" 
	Chase shook his head. "We tried but couldn't find anything." 
	"Can we connect this Castle character to the girls? Besides the symbol, I mean." 
	"We have Linda Soles on videotape meeting with someone at a club called the Spider 
Lounge on the twenty-ninth, the night she disappeared. There's a strong possibility it's 
him. August and I are gonna go back and question the manager. When we talked to him he 
said he didn't know Linda, but we have him on the videotape talking to her and our 
mystery man." 
	"Okay," Jensen said. "Good work. Go talk to him." 
	"I'll keep you posted, Captain," Chase said. 
	As soon as the door shut behind them, Jensen grabbed his sandwich and took another 
huge bite. 
	"So who was on the phone?" Chase asked as he met August in the hall. 
	"Kendra." They set off toward the elevator. "Said she's got the perfect costume 
for me tonight." 
	"Really? What's that?" 
	"She wouldn't say. I just hope it's not a clown or something." 
	Chase smiled. "Hey, I know what you can use. I think we still have that giant hot 
dog costume you wore on that stakeout. Remember, with the flasher?" 
	August stopped walking looked at his partner, pointing a finger at him. "Don't 
remind me, Mac," he warned. "I'm serious. Do not remind me of the giant hot dog." 
	Chase tried to keep his smile down. He held up his hands as if to apologize. "Okay. 
I'm sorry. I won't say another word." 
	"That's good," August said. "Now that's go see Wynn."



"Look, I said I didn't know her and I don't." Wynn was standing behind the bar. 
	"We saw you on the security tape talking to her and another man," August said. 
	"Yeah, well, like I said, I don't know her. I may have talked to her but I don't 
know her. I don't consider just a quick exchange of words enough to qualify me to say 
I know someone." 
	August said, "Who was Linda meeting here? Nicolas Castle?" 
	The words obviously caught Wynn off guard. "What do you know about Nicolas 
Castle?" 
	"We've already connected his past to the two girls," Chase said. "We know all 
about the 'prophecy' of his family, the symbol, the three female sacrifices, and all 
that." 
	Wynn smiled. "Look, guys, Nick's the kind of guy that doesn't like anybody knowing 
his business except him, okay? What he does on his own time I don't know. I've learned 
my lesson years ago about sticking my nose where it doesn't belong." 
	"How long have you known him?" August asked. 
	"He's been coming to the club for almost a year now." 
	"How did he and Linda Soles meet?" 
	"She came in one night, and Nick asked me to introduce him to her." 
	"What did you three do in that room?" Chase gestured toward the back of the dance 
floor. "We saw you go in there on the tape." 
	"It's sort of . . . well, we, uh . . . we call it the, the Naughty Room." He said 
it almost as if he was embarrassed by it. "Two people meet in a bar, they have a little 
too much too drink, we don't want them going at it in here. So we tell them to take in 
there and do it." 
	"And what about you?" August said. "You never came out." 
	Wynn hesitated a little too long for August's liking. "I left out the back. I got 
a call on my cell phone. Had a family emergency, left right then and there." 
	"Mr. Wynn," August said, "were you aware of Nicolas's criminal record? Vandalism, 
armed robbery, all that?" 
	"Yes, he did mention that. But I'm one of those people that feels we all deserve 
a second chance." He checked his watch. "Look, we're gonna be opening in a few hours 
for Halloween, and I need to get some last-minute stuff sorted away, so if you guys 
don't have anymore questions . . . Oh. Here." He reached into his coat pocket and took 
out two tickets, handing one to each of them. "Here're some free passes to the club 
tonight incase you want to stop by. Our Halloween bashes are always pretty enjoyable." 
	They said nothing, just turned with the tickets and headed out the door. Wynn 
grabbed the phone and quickly dialed.



Chase's desktop was covered with papers and open folders as he poured over everything. 
"I don't believe this, August," he said, looking from paper to paper and folder to 
folder. "There's absolutely nothing we can use to try to find out how Castle selects 
the girls. They're blond and in their mid-twenties, and that's it. You know how many 
girls in the L.A. area fit that description?" 
	August was over at his desk, going over his own papers. "More than enough?" 
	"Too many," Chase corrected. "There's got to be something here somewhere." 
	"August," a voice said. Kendra came into the room. 
	"Hey, Kendra." 
	"Hi, Chase." 
	"Kendra, baby, what're you doing here?" August asked. Kendra walked around his 
desk and stood him up, turned him around, and lifted his arms out to either side. 
"What're you doing, Kendra? We can't do this here." 
	That's when James came in. "What's up?" he asked Chase, gesturing toward August's 
desk. 
	"Hang on," Chase said, smiling. "I saw this on the Nature Channel the other night." 
Him and James laughed. 
	August and Kendra both gave him a wry glance. "Relax, August," she said. "I need 
to take August's measurements." She took a roll of measuring tape from the pocket of her 
shorts and started making measurements. 
	"Measurements? For what?" 
	"For your costume. Now just stand still." 
	James laughed and turned back to Chase. "I just got done talking to some of Annie 
Brackett's friends." 
	"Find anything?" 
	"As a matter of fact I did. One guy, Devon Brown, he was the last one to see her, 
said he dropped Annie off at a dance club on the twenty-ninth, and guess which one it 
was?" 
	"The Spider Lounge." 
	"Right." 
	"Did he say if she ever mentioned anything about someone named Castle?" 
	James shook his head. "No. And he said he observed nothing out of the ordinary. No 
changes in her behavior, no apparent nervousness, nothing." 
	"August," Chase said. 
	"Yeah?" Turning, August threw off Kendra's measuring. 
	She grabbed his arms and lifted them up again, making him turn back the way he had 
been standing. "Now still." 
	"What is it, Mac?" he tried again, trying to look back with only his head. 
	Chase and James tried to fight back their smiles.



"There." August pointed to the monitor. They were sitting in front of the playback 
station, looking at the security footage two hours prior to Linda Soles's entrance. 
James and Laura stood behind them. 
	As they watched, Annie walked up to the bar and took a seat on one of the stools. 
Less than five minutes later, a tall man approached her and put a hand on her shoulder. 
He whispered something in her ear, and they both set off for the back of the bar, 
disappearing in "the naughty room." 
	"Okay," Chase said, stopping the tape and leaning back in his chair, "so we can 
put Annie at the Spider Lounge the night she was last seen. But how were the girls 
selected?" 
	"What are the specifications the girls have to have in order to be chosen?" James 
asked. 
	Laura shook her head. "We still haven't determined that," she said. "Only Castle 
himself knows." 
	Chase ejected the tape, and they all walked back. "Why would Castle himself go 
out in public? I mean, wouldn't he want to conceal himself as much as possible to avoid 
being seen? Especially considering that he probably knows the FBI is on to him?" 
	"He wants to see the girls first," Laura explained. "He wants to examine them, 
study them, make sure they meet his specifications before selecting them." 
	"But according to the video footage," James said, "it appears he met both girls 
right then and there. Or Annie, at least. You said Linda waved him over?" 
	"Yeah," August said. 
	Chase put the video on his desk and turned to the other. "Linda and Castle were 
introduced a few nights earlier. I think Annie he met prior as well, but how do we find 
out?" 
	"James," August said, "why don't you and Agent Strode--" 
	"Laura," she said. 
	"You and Laura question Annie Brackett's friends again. See if you can place her 
at the Spider Lounge prior to the twenty-ninth. Wynn would probably just lie to try to 
cover himself more, so don't bother with him. Chase and I'll do the same for Linda." 
	"You got it," James said, and he and Laura left. 
	"You got a copy of Castle's picture?" 
	Chase sorted through the mess of papers on his desk and came up with it. "Yeah. 
Right here." 
	"Let's run this by Nancy Carruthers." 
	Chase grabbed his jacket and followed his partner down the hall. "Any idea yet 
what kind of costume Kendra's got in store for you?" 
	August laughed. "No. But the only thing she'd say is that it's something I've 
seen before." 
	Chase smiled. "I can't wait."



"You much for Halloween?" James asked as they drove. 
	"Yeah," Laura replied. "But I stopped trick-or-treating when I was about fifteen 
or so." 
	"Really?" He laughed. "I stopped when I was eighteen." 
	Laura almost laughed. "You're kidding." 
	"Oh, no," he said in all seriousness. "I mean, for one day each year, you get to 
pretend your anyone but yourself and you get a pillowcase-full of free candy? Who'd want 
that to end?" 
	"How long you been with the LAPD?" she asked. 
	"Just over two months. I transferred down from Seattle back in August. So this 
Castle guy. Why do you think his ceremonies last year and the year before failed?" 
	"Maybe one of the girls didn't meet his specifications and he didn't know it. 
Maybe he overlooked part of the ritual. Who knows? But I have a feeling that since this 
is his last attempt, he's going to do everything humanly possible to make sure it doesn't 
fail." 
	"Here's our first stop." 
	"Who is this?" she asked as he pulled up to the curb. 
	"A friend of Annie Brackett's," he said, parking. They climbed out and walked down 
the sidewalk. "Devon Brown. Dropped her off at the Spider Lounge the night she was last 
seen. You got that picture of Castle?" 
	"Yeah." She reached into her coat pocket as they stepped inside. 
	Devon Brown, a twentysomething with shoulder-length black hair and one-too-many 
earrings, was working behind the counter of the comic book shop. He recognized James as 
he walked in. "Hi again, detective," he said. "What can I do for you?" 
	"I'm sorry to have to bother you again, but we're following up on some new clues 
we've gotten in the case." 
	"Oh, not a problem. What is it?" 
	Laura showed him the photo of Castle. "Do you recognize this man?" 
	He took the picture from her and studied it for a moment. "Hmmm," he mused. "Yeah. 
I do." 
	"You do?" James asked in surprise, looking at Laura. 
	"Yeah. Well, I mean, I don't know him know him, but I've met him." 
	James took out his notepad and pen. "When?" 
	"About four nights ago." He handed the photo back to Laura. "Annie and I were at 
the Spider Lounge together. She went to the restroom just before we left, and a guy came 
up and asked who she was. Said he'd been watching her all evening, that she looked 
familiar; thought he knew her." 
	"Did you get his name?" Laura asked. James was busy scribbling in his pad. 
	Devon shook his head. "No, he didn't say." 
	"Did you tell him who she was?" James asked, still writing. 
	"Just her name." 
	"And then what did he do?" 
	"Nothing. He said he didn't recall the name, so he figured she just looked like 
somebody he knew. Then he left." 
	"And that's the only time you saw him?" 
	He nodded. "Yeah. First and only." 
	"You didn't happen to notice if he was with anybody, did you? A girl perhaps?" 
	"Yeah, he was with a girl." 
	James looked up. "He was?" 
	"Yeah." 
	"Description?" 
	Devon shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Blond, blue eyes, young. Real pretty." 
	James searched through his pockets and took from inside his jacket a photo of Linda 
Soles. "This her?" 
	Devon looked at it. "That's her. Is she connected?" 
	"In a way," James said. He swung the notepad shut and returned it and the photo to 
his pocket. "Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Brown." 
	"No problem." 
	James took out his cell phone as they headed toward the door. "I'll call Chase and 
August."



Chase and August were leaving a pet shop, where one of Linda Soles's friends worked, when 
Chase's phone started ringing. He grabbed it from his jacket. "McDonald." 
	"Chase, it's James." 
	"What'd you find?" 
	"I placed Annie Brackett at the Spider Lounge prior to the twenty-ninth. According 
to her friend Devon, the two of them went dancing there on the twenty-seventh. He said 
when she was in the restroom, a man approached him and asked who she was, that he thought 
she looked familiar. Devon IDed the guy. It was Castle. He was there with Linda Soles." 
	"Really." 
	"Guess he met Linda at some point after she moved here, then pegged Annie as his 
second girl when he saw her there that night." 
	"Okay. See you back at the station." 
	"What's up, partner?" August asked. 
	Chase returned the phone to his pocket. "James and Laura placed Annie Brackett and 
Linda Soles at the Spider Lounge prior to the twenty-ninth," he said, climbing into their 
car.



James put his cell phone back into his pocket. "They'll meet us back at the station," he 
told Laura, walking around the car. 
	Her phone started ringing. She took it out as he climbed in. "Strode," she said. 
	"Hi, Laura. Long time no talk." 
	"Hello, Hill. To what do I owe pleasure of hearing you're backstabbing voice again?" 
	The voice on the other end chuckled. "Oh, Laura, Laura, Laura. I may have some 
information for you. I'm coming close to discovering more. Meet me tonight and I'll tell 
you." 
	"What time?" 
	"I'll call you in a couple hours," the voice said, and the line went dead. 
	She stood for a moment, then turned the phone off and climbed into the car.

The department's Halloween party was held at a private mansion in the Hollywood Hills, 
and the place was already packed when Chase pulled into the circular driveway in his 
black Porsche. A valet took his place and drove the car off to park it as he climbed 
the steps. Two large jack-o'-lanterns sat on either side of the front door. The doorman 
opened the door for him, and he heard music playing as he stepped in. The place was 
full of familiar faces. Halloween decorations hung from the ceiling and walls. He heard 
a high-pitched shriek as he entered, and looked down to see he had stepped on one of 
those screaming doormats. He shook his head with an amused smile and stepped down onto 
the floor. 
	He found August over by the punch bowl, wearing an odd-looking get-up: leather 
pants and a black shirt underneath pads of what looked like body armor. He was also 
wearing a long leather trench coat and a pair of rather cool-looking dark sunglasses. 
"August," he said, walking up. 
	"Hey, Mac." 
	"What the hell are you supposed to be?" 
	"Wesley Snipes," his partner replied, as if he should know the answer. "Blade? 
Hello. What about you?" 
	Chase took a step back with his arms out, smiling. "What do you think?" He wore 
a black and white suit. 
	"A waiter?" August said. 
	Chase dropped his arms to his side and looked at his partner, then said, "No. Try 
again." 
	"Vegas card dealer." 
	"Who wears a suit like this and drives a BMW?" 
	August gave him another glance-over, then snapped his fingers and said, "A French 
waiter." 
	Chase rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, August. Bond . . . James Bond." 
	"Nah. You still look like a waiter." 
	A female voice behind him said, "Well, you sure do give Sean Connery a run for his 
money." 
	Chase glanced back to see Kendra. "Hi, Kendra," he said, then looked at August. "At 
least your wife knows who I am without having to be told." 
	"Actually, I heard you as I came over." 
	August started laughing, and Chase just shook his head and stepped over to get a 
drink. Kendra was wearing mostly black: black stockings, black shirt, elbow-length black 
gloves, and a long cape. "That's my witch, baby," August said, and gave her a kiss. 
	"Thanks, Wesley," she replied. 
	He raised a finger at her. "Hey. Don't you start getting your fantasies going 
again," he warned, then smiled. 
	"Anybody else from the station here?" Chase asked, coming back with a Styrofoam 
cup full of punch. 
	"I'll be right back, August," Kendra said. 
	"Jensen's around somewhere. Ah. There he is. Captain." He waved him over. 
	Jensen approached them, decked out in a long, buttoned yellow trench coat, with a 
yellow fedora donning his head. "Hey, guys, what's up?" 
	"Dick Tracy," Chase said, looking at his captain, who smiled. "Should've known you'd 
pick a law enforcement guy to dress up as." 
	"Thanks, Chase. Or should I say, Mr. Bond." 
	"See, August? At least he could guess who I was." 
	Jensen smiled. "Have a good time, guys," he said, and disappeared into the crowd. 
	"Oh oh," August said. "Chase, remember when Cragmeyer was covering up his costume 
in the lab?" 
	"Yeah." 
	"Well, turn around and see what's coming toward us." 
	Chase turned, and nearly burst out with laughter. Coming toward them was a man 
wearing pointy green shoes, green tights, a long green shirt, and a pointy green hat, 
carring a bow in one hand and a quiver of arrows on his back. Cragmeyer as Robin Hood. 
The detectives couldn't help themselves any longer, and the two of them expoded with 
laughter. "Hey, what's so funny, guys?" he asked. 
	"Cragmeyer," Chase said between his laughs. "I can't believe you . . . " He 
couldn't even continue he was laughing so hard. 
	August tried. "You must have some major self esteem if you're gonna show up for 
work tomorrow after being seen here in that," he said, then fell back into his laughter. 
	Cragmeyer looked down at himself. "What's wrong with this? I'm a big Errol Flynn 
fan, and I figured what better way to honor a great actor than dress up as his most 
famous character?" 
	Chase wiped the tears of joy from his face. "Oh, man, Cragmeyer. I wish I had a 
camera." 
	"Well ha ha ha, guys. I'll see you later. I got girls to meet." He walked off into 
the crowd. 
	Chase and August were still laughing. "Geez," August said, slowly getting himself 
under control. "He looks like a radioactive leprechaun." 
	"Somebody has to get a picture of that. Ten bucks says there's one on every wall 
in the station tomorrow morning." 
	"You're on." August's smile faded as he looked past Chase, his eyes widening. 
"Um, Chase?" 
	"Yeah?" He was leaning back against one of the large planter boxes, looking out 
at the crowd. 
	"You should see this costume." 
	"What's that? Richardson dressed up like Little Bo Peep?" 
	"Believe me, uh, unlike Cragmeyer, this is something you want to see when you turn 
around." 
	Chase turned . . . and did a perfect double-take. A woman was standing just inside 
the front door, gazing about the crowd, with one hand on her hip. She was wearing a 
white satin dress that hugged her like paint. The costume had an array of sashes that 
criss-crossed the plunging neckline of the dress and dangled over one shoulder. 
	"Is that . . . " Chase started, but couldn't finish. "Judith?" 
	Judith Sands came down the steps to the main floor and started walking forward. 
Half the men in the room were staring at her. "Evening, Chase," she said, approaching. 
"August." 
	"Hi, Judith," he replied, while Chase stood there staring. 
	"Nice costume, August. Blade?" 
	August was taken-aback, surprised she would know. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, as a matter of 
fact it is. Um, I'll leave you two alone for awhile." He grabbed his cup and walked 
away. 
	Judith turned to see Chase was still staring at her. "Something wrong, Chase?" 
	He shook himself out of his trance. "No, no. It's just that . . . um, I've never 
seen you looking like this." 
	"Well, I only dress up for special occasions. What do you think?" She turned in a 
circle with her arms out. 
	"It's, it's great, that's for sure. Mind if I ask who you're supposed to be?" 
	"An actress from a time when Hollywood had class," she answered with a smile. 
"Bond?" 
	"Well, thank you. Finally somebody else besides the captain knows who I am." 
	She leaned back beside him. "So what's everyone up to?" 
	Chase looked out at the crowd. "Well, Kendra's a witch, though I'm pretty sure 
witches didn't look like her. Captain's Dick Tracy; actually looks pretty good in that 
bright yellow trench coat. Cragmeyer, you won't believe this, Cragmeyer is Robin Hood, 
but with the pointy elf shoes and green spandex." 
	Judith started laughing. "Now that I'd like to see." 
	"Trust me. You wouldn't. Um, I haven't seen Richardson or James yet. They may be 
here somewhere, I don't know. I've only been here about ten minutes or so." 
	"Come on," she said, taking his arm. "Let's go make fun of Cragmeyer." They walked 
off.



The car was already waiting for her when Laura pulled into the alley. She climbed out 
and walked forward in the headlights. A man stepped out of the other car and came toward 
her. "Agent Strode," he said with a smile as he approached. "I'd forgotten how pretty 
your face is." 
	"Thanks," she said quickly, then got down to business. "What's this information." 
	"What, no small-talk? No chit-chat?" 
	"The information, Hill," she said. 
	He looked at her for a moment, then said, "Okay. I found some interesting stuff 
regarding your Halloween killer." 
	"Let's hear it." 
	"According to my sources, the final sacrifice will be tonight." 
	"Tonight?" 
	Hill nodded. "Tonight. That's why the killings last year and the year before stopped 
after the thirty-first. The third and final victim must be sacrificed during the final 
moments of Halloween. Say . . . within the last five, ten minutes before midnight." 
	"You're just now telling me about this?" 
	"I just now found out about it," he said. "When I heard it was happening again, I 
resumed my research and discovered it." 
	"Did you happen to discover what the chosen girls must have in order to be selected?" 
	He shook his head slowly. "That's the one last thing that continues to elude me. I 
have no idea how they're chosen. Do you know if a third has been selected yet?" 
	"No." 
	"Well, you have to find her. You have"--he checked his watch, turning slightly to 
see it in his headlights--"about five hours until midnight." 
	"That doesn't leave much time." 
	"I'm sorry. I wish I had found it sooner." 
	"Thanks, Hill. You've been very valuable to me on this case." 
	He gave a playful bow of his head. "You're most welcome, Agent Beautiful. I mean, 
Agent Strode." 
	She just smiled wryly at him, then hurried back to her car.



Chase and Judith came out onto the balcony that overlooked the large backyard, complete 
with a swimming pool and water fountain, with tennis courts off to one side. "God, this 
place is beautiful," she said, leaning forward against the rail. "Who owns it?" 
	Chase shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think it's anyone from the department, 
though. Probably just somebody who owes one of the higher-ups a favor." 
	A moment of silence passed. "You know, Chase, you haven't really . . . talked 
about it." 
	"Talked about what?" he asked, sounding as if he'd rather her be quiet. She 
looked at him. He sighed. "I know, Judith. I know. I've thought about it a lot. Believe 
me." 
	"It's been fifteen months, and I have to admit I've been expecting you to come by 
my office to talk about it." 
	"What is there to talk about? She's gone." 
	"Well, you could let it all out. Keeping it bottled up isn't going to help things. 
In the long run it'll just make it worst." 
	"I let it out when I feel like it," he said, fighting back the painful memories. 
The words came out sharper than he meant them to. "I've let it out plenty of times." 
	She put a hand on his shoulder. "I'd feel better if you'd talk about it, Chase. 
I don't want you to keep it pent up. I've seen it happen before, and I don't want to see 
you fall apart." 
	"You say that like you really care about me." 
	"I do care about you, Chase. I care about your continued existence as a normal 
human, but I don't see that happening if you keep all these feelings and memories locked 
up. So what do you say? Will you have some sessions with me?" 
	He glanced at her, then looked out at the back of the mansion. "I don't know, 
Judith. You know me. I'm not much for opening up to people." 
	"Okay, then how about this? Come in for one session. We'll start slow, see how it 
goes, and if you decide not to come back for more, then I'll let it go. But, if after the 
first session you think it helped, then I'll take plenty of time to have more with you. 
And we can arrange them according to your schedule. So what do you say?" 
	He was quiet for a long time. He looked at her, smiled. "Okay." 
	"I'm glad to hear it," she said, then glanced back into the house of partygoers and 
changed the tone of her voice. "Do you want to get out of this place and go somewhere for 
dinner?" 
	"Sure. How about the Spider Lounge? The manager gave me and August free passes for 
tonight." 
	"The Spider Lounge?" 
	"Oh, don't worry. The name doesn't mean anything anymore. It's more of a jazz-like 
place now than rap." 
	"Okay. Sounds fine to me. Let's go."



"One, two, three!"
	The band leader made a motion with his hands, and the jazz group broke into a big 
band-style song, the horn section bursting loudly, accompanied with the drums. People 
were out on the dance floor, dancing the kind of moves popular in the 30s and 40s. The 
Spider Lounge was packed with patrons, laughing and joking, having a good time with 
friends and family. It was mostly younger people in their twenties and thirties, and as 
he stood by the bar waiting for his drinks, Chase was glad to see that at least some of 
the Generation X crowd had an appreciation for the music of the past. 
	The bartender came with two slender glasses, and Chase headed back to the table 
with them. He made his way through the crowd, stopping short, side-stepping, or hurrying 
forward quickly to avoid collisions with other people. Judith was waiting at the table, 
still wearing her Golden Age-era costume. 
	He stopped before the table and held the glasses up with a winning smile. "Didn't 
spill a drink." With perfect timing to his words, he was bumped from behind by a man 
hurrying past, and the drinks splashed back onto his coat. Judith put a hand to her mouth 
to try and hide her laugh. "Ah, man," he said, setting the glasses on the table and 
slipping out of his coat. 
	She reached over to pick up her glass. "Well, we got just enough left for a toast." 
	Chase hung his coat over the back of one of the chairs and sat in the seat adjacent 
to her. "What should we toast to?" He picked up his glass. 
	"How about . . . to you finally putting your pain to rest?" 
	He hesitated a moment, as if he didn't like what she suggested. She started to 
apologize, not knowing if she had made him upset, when he smiled and held his glass up. 
They toasted, and where just raising the glasses to their lips when there was a sudden 
burst of commotion coming from the front of the club. The band stopped abruptly, and the 
dancing stopped. They both stood as the crowd began to move away, as if making room for 
someone. 
	Suddenly, a tall hooded figure appeared out of the crowd, followed by two men with 
pointed staffs, both wearing robes and hoods. "What the hell?" Chase asked himself. 
"Judith, get back." He took her hand and pulled her around behind the table with him. 
	Everyone stared as the hooded man made his way through the tables, coming toward 
. . . them. Chase's mind raced with questions about what he should do, and he was just 
about to act on one when the man stopped and raised a hand, pointing a gloved finger at 
Judith. "You," he said, then turned his hand over, as if offering it to be taken. "Come." 
	"I don't think so," Chase told the man. 
	The man pushed the hood from his face, and Chase saw it was Nicolas Castle. He 
stepped forward around the table and up to Chase, putting a hand on the detective's 
shoulder and shoving him away hard. Chase landed on his shoulder and started to lunge 
up, but the ends of two staffs found their way to his neck. He looked up to see the 
hooded guards standing over him, holding the pointed ends of their weapons just above 
his neck. 
	Judith looked from Chase to Castle. "What do you want?" she asked, trying to hide 
the fear in her voice. 
	Castle slowly walked around her, looking up and down, as if sizing her up, then 
stopped when he had completely circled her. "You will do fine." He grabbed her arm and 
pulled her away. She struggled to get lose, but his grip was too tight. Chase wanted to 
move, but the staffs kept him pinned. When Castle reached the doors to the club, he said 
without looking back, "Come." 
	The two guards stepped away from Chase, walking backwards with their staffs out, 
making sure he stayed on the floor. As soon as they reached the doors, they turned and 
ran. Chase jumped to his feet and hurried toward the entrance, pushing his way through 
the crowd as everyone gathered around the doors to look out. 
	He burst outside just in time to see the last guard climb into a large moving van 
as it sped away. He swung around and looked for his Porsche, but it was blocked in by a 
row of other parked cars. He found a man just arriving on his motorcycle and ran over, 
flashing his badge. "LAPD," he said, "I need your bike." Before the man could protest, 
Chase had climbed on and tore out of the parking lot. 
	"Don't scratch it!" the man hollered after him. 
	The moving van turned the corner and burned down the street, moving into the 
opposite lane of traffic to get around the stopped cars and cut through the intersection. 
A police car waiting to turn saw the traffic violation, and the cop flipped the siren 
switch and hit the gas. 
	Castle looked into the side mirror and saw the cop car behind him. The two guards 
sat on the bench seat beside him. In the back, Judith was knocked across the floor as 
the truck felt like it spun a corner. She was thrown from one side to the other, putting 
her hands out to break her fall. 
	When Chase turned the corner, he could see the cop car, and the truck several 
yards ahead. He opened the motorcycle full throttle. At the next intersection, two more 
black and whites joined in on the pursuit, as well as a third at the following lights. 
	The van turned off the street and made for the freeway. Chase followed right behind 
the cop cars, their sirens wailing loudly and lights flashing brightly. Coming onto the 
freeway, the truck cut right into the flow of traffic, causing brakes to squeal and horns 
to blow. The units came up the ramp one by one and took up standard pursuit positions 
behind the truck, lining out across the freeway. 
	Chase came off the ramp and saw that the truck had managed to gain some more 
distance, so he poured it on. The cop cars were within a few short yards of the truck, 
but kept from getting too close, for fear of the driver doing something to put other 
motorists at risk. 
	Castle looked at the line of black-and-whites in his mirror and smiled to himself. 
In the back, feeling that the truck was driving in a straight line, Judith carefully 
made her way toward the back. She grabbed at the inside handle and tried to lift the 
rolling door up, but it was no use. It wouldn't budge. It was most-likely locked from 
the outside. The vehicle must have hit a pothole in the road, because the next thing she 
knew she was falling back through the air, landing and hitting her head hard. 
	Up ahead there had been a traffic accident, and all lanes of traffic were blocked 
solid. Castle pressed the gas pedal all the way to the floor and turned over onto the 
shoulder, cutting in front of a semi-truck. The driver yelled out and hit the brakes. 
The long trailer spun out sideways as the tires squealed loudly, blocking the shoulder. 
The cop cars hit their brakes and served to crooked stops, some of them hitting the 
trailer. 
	The engine of the truck howled as it rushed forward in the tight space, either 
side scraping against the cement wall or stopped cars. The friction shook the truck 
violently, and the two guards exchanged nervous glances. Judith lay motionlessly in the 
back. The last fall had rendered her unconscious. 
	Chase saw the stalled semi and crashed cruisers. He realized there was no way 
around, and he was about to stop when he got a wild idea. He gunned the engine even more 
and shot forward. The stopped cop cars created an aisle of sorts that lead right up to 
the semi's trailer, which had a few feet of clearance between it and the road. 
	The cops and the truck driver ran out of the way as Chase raced forward, turning 
the motorcycle onto its side and sliding underneath. On the other side, he lifted the 
motorcycle and drove off. He made the whole thing appear almost effortlessly. 
	The truck had gained a good distance, but Chase fell right back onto it's tail. 
Castle pulled the steering wheel side to side, weaving the vehicle around traffic. Just 
short of another two miles, he spotted a large fuel tanker and headed for it. As they 
approached, one of the guards opened the passenger door and hung out, throwing the staff 
through the air like a javelin. The staff punched through the driver's-side window, and 
the truck driver, taken by surprise, yelled out and yanked on the wheel. 
	The tanker made a violent turn as the truck raced forward, and toppled over onto 
it's side. The driver climbed out and ran just as the fuel ignited, the truck exploding 
into a huge display of flames. Cars hit their brakes, and one cut in front of Chase. He 
yelled out and swerved to avoid hitting it, and the motorcycle lost control. He fell 
onto the freeway and slid forward as the motorcycle crashed into the side of an SUV. The 
traffic came to a stand-still. 
	Chase slowly picked himself up as a motorist ran up behind him and said, "Are you 
alright?" 
	"Yeah," Chase said, obviously in pain. "Yeah, I'm alright." 
	He looked at the massive fire show several yards before him.



A short time later, Chase was sitting on a bed at Los Angeles Memorial while the doctor 
checked his x-rays. He had his shirt off, and a couple layers of bandages were wrapped 
around his chest. August was standing nearby, still in his Blade costume, minus the cape. 
"Well," the doctor said, taking the photos down, "looks like you were pretty lucky. No 
broken bones. Just some scrapes and bruises." He walked over. "You're fit to leave. I 
see no reason why you should stay here." 
	"Thanks, Dr. Loomis." 
	"Just take it easy for a couple days. Nothing too strenuous." The doctor left. 
	Chase stood and slowly pulled on his shirt. "So Castle just walked right in and 
headed straight for Judith?" August said. 
	"Like he already knew her." He started buttoning the shirt. 
	Captain Jensen came in. He, like August, was still in costume, holding his yellow 
fedora in one hand. "Chase, are you okay?" 
	"I'm fine, Captain." He grabbed his coat from the bed and slipped it on. 
	"I heard about Judith. I'm sorry, Chase." 
	"Thanks." 
	"We found the truck about forty minutes ago. It was ditched on the side of a road. 
No witnesses. We don't know where they went." 
	There was a knock at the door, and they turned to see Laura looking in. "Come in," 
August said. 
	"I just got some disturbing news regarding Castle," she said. 
	Jensen looked at her. "And?" 
	"The third and final victim is supposed to be sacrificed tonight, during the final 
minutes of Halloween." 
	"What?" Chase yelled, louder than he meant. 
	"How did you find this out?" Jensen asked. 
	"It's a long story, but I have an informant who's an 'occult specialist,' so to 
speak, who's been helping me on this case for the past couple of years. Along with what 
qualities the girls have to have, this information has managed to evade us until now. 
And since we don't know whether or not he's selected his final sacrifice--" 
	"He has," August said. 
	"Who?" 
	August looked at his partner. When it was obvious he wasn't going to answer out of 
anger, he said, "Judith Sands. She's the department psychologist. Chase and her were at 
the Spider Lounge earlier when Castle came in and took her." 
	"Oh. I'm sorry, Chase. In any event, we have to find Castle, and we have to find 
him fast. Do you have any idea of how he could have become aware of her being there?" 
	Chase stood from the edge of the bed shaking his head. "No," he said quietly. 
	"Wynn," August. 
	Chase looked at him. "When what?" 
	"No, no. Wynn. Daniel Wynn. He's the connection. He has to be. Somehow him and 
Castle have some kind of arrangement going on. Wynn picks the girls at the club, then 
calls Castle. Castle comes down, checks the girl out, if he likes her--wham. He's got 
his human sacrifice." 
	Jensen seemed confused. "This Wynn. He's the club owner, right?" 
	"Manager." 
	"You think he spotted Judith when her and Chase came in and called Castle for her?" 
	August nodded. "That's what I'd say. I mean, it makes perfect sense. Linda Soles 
and Annie Brackett were both at the club the night they disappeared, and so was Castle." 
	"Wait a minute," Jense said. "Didn't you say, though, that it appeared Wynn wasn't 
there the night Castle met Annie Brackett?" 
	"Yeah," August said, "but that's explainable. Castle was there himself on the 
twenty-seventh when he first saw Annie. Wynn didn't have to do any work to find the 
second girl. Castle found her himself." 
	"And do we know yet when and where he met Linda Soles?" 
	August shook his head. "According to Wynn, he introduced Linda to Castle several 
nights back." 
	"Then let's check out Wynn again," Chase said. "Call James. Have him go to the 
club and hold Wynn until we get there." 
	"Right," August said, taking out his cell phone as they walked out of the room.

When Judith awoke, she found herself lying on a cot in a small room that had a musty 
odor. She pushed herself up, putting a hand to the back of her head where she had hit 
it in the truck. Sitting up, she looked around. The room was dark, except for a few 
faint light sources. She got up and walked around, finding the door to the room. She 
tried the handle, even though she knew it would be locked. It was. 
	She was walking away from the door when she heard a muffled sound. It sound like 
a ring of keys, coming from the other side of the door. She stepped back as she heard 
the lock turning, and the door swung open. Light flooded in, and a tall figure stood 
before her. It was Castle, and he started walking up to her. 
	"Who are you?" she asked, but got no reply. 
	"Yes," he said, looking at her. "Yes, you are the perfect choice. You have 
everything I require." He walked around her in a slow circle. "You will most certainly 
please he who I plan to resurrect tonight." He stopped in front of her and reached up, 
putting a hand on her cheek. She didn't bother to knock it away. "Such soft skin. Just 
like the others. And the most beautiful set of . . . lips." 
	He came in to kiss her, and she pulled her head back. Fiercely, he grabbed the 
back of her head and forced their lips to meet, kissing her long and hard. When she broke 
away the second time, she was expecting a severe repercussion. Instead, he simply smiled 
and held something out to her. It was a robe. It unfolded as she took it. She held it up, 
looking it. She judged that it was rather small for her. "Got anything skimpier?" she 
asked sarcastically. 
	Again, he smiled at her. "You are the final choice," he said. "You are the most 
special of the three. Put it on. I'll be back later." With that he turned and walked out 
of the room, shutting the door behind him. 
	Judith held the robe up again to look at it. It was white, long and flowing, with 
wide sleeves and a low V-neck collar. The material was soft. She looked at the door, 
knowing she had no choice. Tossing it back onto the bed, she reached behind her head to 
pull off her dress.



Daniel Wynn was moving frantically in his office at the back of the Spider Lounge. He 
had finally gotten rid of the police, who had been so persistent in getting his 
statement again and again. He threw papers and folders into his briefcase, grabbing 
them from desk drawers, tables, and file cabinets. 
	Next, he went to the compact closest and threw the door open, pulling out a long 
ceremonial robe that he tore from the hanger and tried to fold into something 
resembling a blanket. Tossing it into the briefcase and shutting the lid, he headed 
across the room to the door. 
	James Harris was standing on the other side of the door, just about to knock, when 
it opened. "Mr. Wynn?" he asked, and before he could do anything else, Wynn slammed the 
door shut. "Son of a bitch." James tried the handle, but it was locked. One kick later, 
the door was flying open just in time for James to see Wynn climbing out a window. 
	James ran to the window behind him and pulled himself through, and hit the ground 
running. The alley ran between the club and the adjacent building, littered with garbages, 
overtuned cans, cardboard boxes, and blue dumpsters. "Wynn!" he shouted as he ran. Wynn 
turned out of the alley and ran up the sidewalk. James exited moments later, running into 
a man and a woman dressed like skeletons. "Sorry," he said without stopping. 
	The sidewalk was crowded with people, most of them in costume. James ran hard. The 
people scattered as they made their way down the street. "Get out of the way!" Wynn yelled, 
shoving people aside. "Move, move!" He grabbed a lady dressed in a scarecrow costume and 
pulled her out into the middle of the sidewalk, right in James's path. But the detective 
weaved around her and kept his pace. 
	Wynn stepped off the sidewalk and cut across the busy street. Cars blew their horns 
and lit up their brakes, tires squealing. He sprinted across the road, leaping and sliding 
over the hood of a car that couldn't stop in time. James did his best to stay in pursuit, 
dodging the cars as they swerved to avoid him. Wynn glanced back and doubled his efforts 
when he saw the detective was still on his trail. 
	James was running flat out, thinking to himself how good a choice it was for him to 
keep up on his exercises and daily jogs. Wynn hung a left at the next corner and raced 
down a new street. James rounded seconds later, sliding right between a man and his young 
daughter dressed as a cat. 
	At the next intersection, Wynn must have been thinking of something else, because 
his reactions regarding the traffic weren't as smooth as they had been further back. As 
he left the corner he ran in a diagonal motion, hoping to avoid the station wagon that 
was screeching to a stop. But it was no use. The vehicle stopped hard, and Wynn hit the 
side, toppling over the hood and rolling to the ground. 
	James arrived and pushed his way through the crowd, telling them he was LAPD. Wynn 
was lying on his back, moving in agony. James leaned over, hands on his knees, fighting 
to catch his breath. "You okay? Anything broken?" Wynn just groaned a reply and rolled 
onto his side. "That's what I thought," he said, and bent over to pick him up. 
	They both fell back against the hood of the car, breathing deeply. Wynn was so 
exhausted he didn't even resist when James said, "You're under arrest," and then reached 
for his cuffs.



Chase and August were sitting in Wynn's office when James returned with him. The man 
looked like he was still exhausted. "Hello, again," Chase said as he and August stood. 
	James sat Wynn down in his chair behind the desk and laid the briefcase on the 
desktop. He flicked the latches. "Hey, you can't do that," Wynn said, jumping up. 
	Chase put a hand on his chest and gave him a slight shove back into his seat. "You 
ran. That gives him cause." 
	James lifted the lid, and they looked inside. August took out the robe and held it 
up, letting it unfold. Chase looked at it. "Looks like the robes those guards had on when 
Castle came to the club," he said, then turned back to Wynn. "You pick the girls for him, 
don't you? You picked Linda Soles one night when she first visited the club. Annie 
Brackett he met on his own, but then you picked Judith when her and me came in for dinner, 
didn't you?" Wynn said nothing. "Where's Castle?" 
	"Please. I can't tell you. He'll kill me." 
	Chase leaned over the desk and looked Wynn' right in the eyes. "Where is he?" 
	"Okay, okay. I'll be honest." He paused to work up the nerve, then said, "I really, 
truly, honestly do not know. I swear." 
	"You're lying." 
	"I swear. I swear to God." 
	August stepped over. "Mr. Wynn, please don't lie. You see, my partner here, when 
he's lied to, he doesn't like it, and frankly neither do I. So please. Enlighten us. Tell 
us the truth for once in your life." 
	"I was going to be picked up. A car was going to arrive, pick me up, and take me 
to the location." Chase looked at him with a questioning eye. "I swear to you, that's 
what was going to happen. After the first two sacrifices, he was worried the police were 
onto him, so he changed locations. I don't know where the next one is going to be. I 
swear." 
	Chase looked at him for another moment "What time was the car going to pick you 
up?" 
	"At eleven," Wynn said. 
	"Okay. August, take him back to the station." He grabbed the robe from his partner. 
"I'm going in." 
	"Wow, wow. Wait a minute, Mac. Think about this. Castle's seen you. He'll recognize 
you instantly." 
	"Look, I'll wait for the driver. When he shows up I'll get the address out of them, 
then we'll all go over there." 
	"He won't tell you the address," Wynn said. "You'll be lucky if he says more than 
two words to you. He'll just want to you get in and be quiet while he drives there. And he 
sends a different driver each time. A lot of people who go don't know each other, so you 
should have no trouble with whoever comes to pick you up." 
	"Suddenly anxious to help?" Chase asked, then looked at August. "Look, partner, 
don't worry. I'll be fine." He folded the robe as best he could, looking at Wynn. "Where 
were you gonna meet the car?"



The door opened, and Castle walked in with a hooded guard carrying a small wooden box. 
Judith sat up on the bed. Castle stopped and smiled at her. He liked what he saw. The 
robe he had given her looked exquisite on her, and he liked the fact it barely fell to 
mid-thigh. His smile grew as he walked forward. 
	She stood. "What do you want now?" 
	The guard set the box on a table and opened it, taking out a syringe and a small 
bottle filled with a clear liquid. She looked at it nervously as the man stuck the needle 
in and filled the body up with the drug. 
	"We can't have you struggling to escape during the ritual," Castle said. "So I'm 
afraid we have to do this to you." He waved for the guard and stepped aside. 
	The hooded man came toward her with the syringe held out. When he was almost there, 
she burst between them, shoving them aside, and took off running down the hall. "Get her!" 
Castle yelled. 
	Judith ran. Fast. There were no windows in any of the halls, and she had no idea 
where she was going. But she didn't care, just as long as she went in the opposite 
direction of where she had just been. Luckily, she had left her high heels off, and so 
she was running barefoot. Not the most comfortable way to run, but better than trying to 
escape in heels. 
	More guards joined the pursuit, their feet clattering on the floor as they ran, 
several yards behind. Judith turned a corner and ran down the hall, but saw more guards 
approaching from the opposite end. She went to the first door she found and flung it 
open. It was a stairwell, but not knowing if she was undergound or above it, had no idea 
of whether to go up or down. The guards were closing in behind her fast. 
	She ran up, hoping there would be signs somewhere that would give her a clue on 
where she was heading. But there was nothing. No level numbers or letters, nothing to 
indicate what was what. Below her, she could hear the guards coming into the stairwell 
and racing up. 
	She ran until she could go no further, and left the stairs at the next floor she 
came to. She ran down the hall, looking back. She knew the guards would be behind her 
soon enough. She turned a corner and ran to the end, turned into another hall, and then 
another. At the end was a single door. She grabbed the handle and twisted it, running 
through as she opened the door . . . and nearly fell. 
	She came to a sudden halt, throwing her arms out to steady her balance. She was on 
a small ledge protruding from the side of the building. Looking out around her, she 
realized she was no longer in the city, but was instead at an abandoned cement plant in 
the mountains that had been shut down a few years back. Looking past her feet, she 
estimated she was at least one hundred feet up. 
	She heard footsteps and turned. The guards were coming toward her, lead by Castle. 
And he didn't look happy. He walked right out onto the ledge and grabbed her arms 
violently. "That was not a smart move," he said, the fury showing in his eyes. "Try it 
again, and you won't like what happens." 
	And he turned and dragged her back inside.



After dropping Wynn off at the police station, August and James were parked in the car. 
Laura sat in the back seat. Up ahead, standing at the opposite corner, was Chase, 
carrying the rolled up robe under one arm. 
	"I still don't think this is such a good idea," August said. "How much longer 
until midnight?" 
	James looked at his watch, pressing the illumination button. "It's a quarter past 
eleven." 
	"This is gonna be cutting it close, Mac." Ten minutes later, a car pulled up to 
the curb. "Look alive, people," August said. "Here we go." 
	As they watched, Chase walked to the edge of the curb and leaned over, talking to 
the driver through the passenger window. Then he climbed in and the car pulled back into 
the street. When it passed, August fired up the engine and hung a wide U-turn. 
	Chase and the driver rode in silence. The man was shorter than him, balding, with 
wire-frame glasses and a gaze that was fixed specifically on the road before him. His 
hands never left the steering wheel, even when they came to a light. Chase glanced into 
the back seat and saw a rolled up robe behind the driver's seat. "So what do you think 
of these robes?" Chase asked. "A little too hot, don't you think? Maybe they should use 
one hundred precent cotton or something, hu?" 
	The man said nothing. Didn't blink, didn't glance over, didn't do anything. He 
just sat their quietly, driving at a steady speed. Chase flicked his eyes to the side 
mirror and saw the lights of August's car back behind them. 
	Thirty minutes later, the driver said nothing as he turned off the main road and 
made his way into the mountains. August reduced his speed and followed slowly, noticing 
this new road was occupied with less traffic, making them more susceptible to detection. 
	"Do you know where he's going?" Laura asked, leaning forward from the back. 
	August nodded. "Old cement factory up in the mountains here. They shut it down a 
few years ago." 
	Up ahead, they saw the car slow and turn onto the road that would take it up the 
mountain toward the plant. August drove on. Half a mile past, he pulled off onto the 
dirt shoulder and parked the car behind a large growth of shrubs. Exiting the car with 
weapons drawn, they hurried across the street and disappeared into the trees and bushes 
at the bottom of the mountain. 
	The car pulled into a line of other parked vehicles, and Chase and the driver 
climbed out. The man grabbed his robe from the back seat and pointed toward a medal door 
that was slightly ajar. "This way," he said simply. 
	Chase glanced behind him as they walked over, "Showtime, partner," he said, and 
stepped inside.



The door opened, and Judith sat up as the light bathed her. Her left wrist was chained 
to the frame of the bed. Castle stepped in. "It is time, my dear," he said. 
	A guard came in behind him, holding the tiny box she had seen earlier. He took 
from it a syringe and filled it with a clear liquid. While he did that, Castle grabbed 
hold of her right arm, raising it. With a stick of black chalk, he drew the symbol on 
the underside of her wrist. Then he stepped back, tossing the chalk aside. 
	And all she could do was watch in horror as the needle came toward her.



Reaching the top of the hill, August paused. "There," he said, pointing with his gun. 
They could see the line of cars parked alongside one of the buildings. The windows were 
all dark, but light was pouring out from one door that was ajar. "Guess that's where 
the little get-together is. Come on." 
	They left the safety and concealment of the shrubbery and sprinted across the wide 
open space toward the buildings no more than 200 yards away.



The ceremonial room was full of hooded cultists chanting quietly. Chase pulled his robe 
on and walked further into the room, pulling the hood up over his face. He made his way 
up through the cultists to stand at the front of the group. 
	Moments later, a side door opened. Two guards came in, carrying a girl. Chase saw 
it was Judith. He could tell she had already been sedated. They set her on the altar 
and took their places on either end of the dais. He wanted to spring forward and get 
her, but he was vastly outnumbered. He had no choice but to wait for August and the 
others, and hope they made it in time. 
	A minute later, the chanting stopped as Castle appeared. He stepped in through 
the same door and climbed the steps to the dais. He stood behind the altar and looked 
down at Judith, putting a hand on her forehead. "Blessed child," he said quietly. "You 
should feel extremely honored for having been chosen for a ceremony that will return 
the Ancient One, and restore evil and treachery to the world. You are the third and final, 
the most special. The one whose form he will take upon your death." 
	Judith said nothing, showed no reaction. Her head just gently rolled side-to-side, 
her eyelids heavy. 
	He pushed the hood back from his head and then reached under his robe, withdrawing 
the knife. Chase slowly reached into his robe and felt the handle of his shoulder-
holstered pistol. Castle clasped the knife in both hands and raised the weapon above his 
head. "Child," he said. "The time of resurrection has come. Let the Ancient One rise from 
the pits of hell, and let him manifest himself in your body." 
	He was just about to bring the knife down when the doors at the back of the room 
exploded open, and the calvary charged in shouting, "LAPD!" Chase threw his hood off and 
whipped out his gun, aiming at Castle and stepping away from the cultists. 
	"You," Castle said, upon recognizing Chase. 
	August, James, and Laura moved through the crowd. "On the floor," August order, and 
they complied. "On the floor. Now." 
	"Drop the knife, Castle," Chase said. 
	Instead, he grabbed Judith from the altar and held her in front him, putting the 
knife to her throat. James came up next to Chase as August and Laura kept the cultists 
down. "Let her go, Castle," Chase said. 
	Castle smiled as he slowly advanced back, dragging Judith with him. Her head slowly 
lifted up, and she looked at him with dull eyes. "Chase?" she half whispered. 
	"It's okay, Judith," he assured her. "Let her go, Castle, now!" 
	Castle laughed, then shoved Judith forward and bolted out a backdoor. Chase ran and 
grabbed Judith before she could hit the ground. "Judith, Judith," he said. "Are you okay?" 
	She looked up at him. "What are you doing here, Chase?" she asked, as if in a trance. 
	"James, here." He shifted her into his arms. "Watch her. I'm going after Castle." 
	"Mac!" August shouted, but it was no use. Chase was already out of the room. 
	As soon as he exited the back of the building, Chase was slammed into the adjacent 
wall. The gun flew from his hand. He turned and saw the knife flashing in the moonlight 
as it sliced through the air. He ducked his head, and the knife sparked as it struck the 
wall. He came up with a punch that sent Castle stumbling back. 
	He came running forward with the knife. Chase reached up and grabbed his wrist, 
turned, and bent his arm behind his back, forcing the knife out of his grasp. Castle 
threw himself back and smashed Chase against the wall. When he felt the detective slide 
off, he took off running. 
	Chase got to his feet and ran forward, leaping onto Castle's back. The two of them 
fell onto one of the planet's conveyor machines. In the struggle, Chase's leg slammed 
against a lever, and the machine rumbled to life. As Chase looked up, he saw that the 
conveyor belt was already well on its way up, moving fast. 
	He caught Castle's elbow in his chin and slide back a few feet. Castle landed on 
top of him, his hands closing around his throat. Under his back, Chase could feel the 
bumping as the belt carried them further and further up into the night. 
	"You will die," Castle was saying, the fire burning in his eyes. "You will die." 
	He squeezed tight, and Chase felt like he was about to pass out. Finding a burst 
of strength, he landed his fist against Castle's left jaw, throwing him on his back. 
As Chase threw himself onto him, he saw the top of the conveyor belt was coming to an 
end less than fifty feet away. 
	August and James exited out the back of the building and looked around. "Mac?" 
	James heard the grumbling noise and looked up. "There," he said, pointing. 
	August looked. "Oh, jeez, Mac." 
	They were almost to the end. The belt was moving fast, and they would soon be 
falling over. Chase and Castle each had their hands locked around the others' throat, 
squeezing and pushing. Chase managed to look up. The end was right there. He couldn't 
break out of Castle's grasp. Taking his right hand from his neck, Chase slammed his 
elbow into Castle's gut, and his grip loosened. 
	At the last possible second, Chase reached out and grabbed onto a medal handrail. 
Castle wasn't quite so fast. He reached the end of the conveyor and toppled over the 
edge, screaming as he fell into the large unit that would normally be breaking up the 
concrete blocks with hundreds of choppers. But since it was turned off, there was only 
a dull thud as Castle slammed into the steel bottom of the tank. 
	With what strength he could find, Chase managed to roll himself off the belt and 
onto the service walkway. He collapsed onto his stomach, breathing heavily. "Mac! Mac!?" 
	Chase crawled his way forward beside the running conveyor belt and looked down at 
August and James. His partner looked up at him and raised his hands, as if waiting for 
answer. Chase just gave him a thumbs-up, then dropped his head back down and closed his 
eyes.



The next morning, Chase was sitting at his desk, leaning forward with a hand to his 
forehead, half asleep. "Sleeping on the job?" 
	He looked up to see Laura standing before him. "Oh. Good morning." 
	"Morning. My plane leaves in an hour. I just wanted to thank you for helping me 
solve all this." 
	He stood, smiling. "Not a problem." 
	"I trust your girlfriend is doing okay?" 
	"She's not exactly my girlfriend, but yeah. She's doing fine. I just talked to 
her. She's taken the next couple of days off." 
	"Well, I better get going. It was nice working with you, Chase." 
	"Likewise." He shook her hand. 
	"I'll see you around," she said, and walked away. She passed August in the hall 
and said the same, exchanged handshakes. 
	"Morning, partner," he said coming up to Chase's desk. 
	"Hey." Chase just sat back in his chair. 
	"Well last night was certainly an interesting case, hu?" 
	"No kidding. You know, next Halloween I'm calling in sick and I'm heading out of 
town for the day." 
	August smiled. "Me, too," he said. "Oh oh. Here it comes." 
	Chase looked and saw Cragmeyer walking down the hall, carrying a stack of folders. 
Everybody was looking at him, smiling to themselves and pointing fingers. He glanced 
around, as if unaware what they were whispering about. "What's going on here, guys?" he 
asked as he came up to Chase's desk. "Everybody between the entrance and here's been 
whispering, smiling, pointing and everything at me since I got here." 
	Chase and August looked at each other, fighting back smiles. "Take a look," Chase 
said, pointing over to the wall. 
	"What is it?" Cragmeyer walked over and saw a photo tacked up to the bulletin board. 
It showed him from the party the night before, in his Robin Hood costume, eating a piece 
of cake or something. The expression on his face showed that the cameraman had taken him 
by surprise. "What the hell?" 
	They both burst out laughing. Cragmeyer tore the picture from the board and walked 
back. "Are there anymore of these?" 
	"Well, Cragmeyer," Chase said, "I thought you weren't embarrased by your costume?" 
	"I'm not. I'm not, Chase. It's just that, well, if this is gonna be making people 
make fun of me all over the station, I'd prefer it not be displayed on every wall." 
	"Well," Chase said, "then you better hurry over to the motorpool. And forensics. 
And back to the entrance lobby. The vending machine area. The interrogation observation 
room." 
	"Oh," August pitched in, "and don't forget the men's bathroom." 
	"And the women's bathroom." 
	Cragmeyer took off. Chase and August laughed and slapped each other high-fives.