3 romances. 1 twice-missing skeleton. A whole lot of spooky small-town secrets. Keep reading for chapter one, or snag your copy on Amazon now… before the skeleton vanishes agian.

CHAPTER 1  💀 HARPER

Most people, when confronted with an intruder in a graveyard, would run.

 Harper was not most people.

“Hey! You! YES, YOU! You better be dead or dying because you’re not supposed to be here!”

It was nearly dusk during Harper’s nightly run through her parents’ graveyard. One of her many “duties” was to check for over-curious out-of-towners who thought it was a great idea to smoke pot or summon spirits under the old willows at night. Harper refused to call herself an employee, but she did love scaring people, and hanging out in the graveyard at night. Win-win-win.

So when the tall figure darted across the rows of headstones ahead of her, Harper took off after him.

Could she have taken the high road and let him go?

 Sure.

 Was it way more fun to scare the daylights out of him?

 Absolutely.

The figure veered left, and Harper caught a quick glimpse of him silhouetted against the orange-red sky—definitely high school aged, but not someone she recognized from town. Likely another tourist here for Autumnvale’s ridiculously famous Missing Skeleton Festival.

Which meant it was practically Harper’s duty to give him a proper Autumnvale welcome.

She vaulted over a tombstone, zigzagged around a tree, and gained on him fast. He stumbled—almost ate it on a grave marker—but somehow managed to keep going. Honestly? He was doing better than most.

Only her four brothers had ever successfully escaped her in this graveyard. Atlas, because he had those annoying older-brother-longer-legs, and the triplets because they worked as a chaotic unit—and Harper suspected growing up around so many graves had… affected them.

But this boy wasn’t one of her brothers. His dark curls and olive skin set him apart from the pale-haired, gangly-limbed Valthorn crew, who liked to collectively perch on the graveyard wall and howl like banshees at tourists. But as the only girl, Harper had perfected her own form of terrifying outsiders: scaring intruders while wearing the creepy ghost masks she always carried when jogging.

The boy wove through the trees near the edge of the graveyard, taking the slowest path, and Harper changed course, sprinting toward the rock wall on the other side. She knew this terrain by heart. There was a gap in the wall where he’d likely come out. She made her way there, and then crouched, hidden on the other side of it, grinning to herself as she listened to his ragged breaths getting closer.

She pulled on the terrifying mask. Then right on cue, she sprang onto the wall and screamed, “WHO TRESSPASSES—”

She had exactly half a second to register his face—handsome, full lips, high cheekbones, terrified—and then wham. A fist slammed into her stomach and launched her clean off the wall and into the grass on the other side.

Harper lay there, stunned, blinking at the darkening sky. Well, that’s a first. Finally, she sat up and peeled the mask off her face, groaning and rubbing her stomach. It hadn’t hurt too bad—thankfully her brothers hadn’t seen or she never would have heard the end of it. From her place in the grass she turned to look at the woods where the boy had disappeared, flush with the colors of fall. 

As she suspected, the boy was long gone. He really had looked terrified. It would have been her best scare ever, if, you know, he hadn’t punched her off the wall. Harper guessed that would be the last time she ever saw him. And too bad—he was cute. 

Harper stood up, laughing at herself as she brushed the dirt off her leggings, then took off again into the night to finish her jog. As she ran, she thought how Camila and Leah, her two best friends, were going to love this story when she told them tomorrow for the annual checking of the crypt for the Missing Skeleton Festival. Something about the boy had left an impact on her—beyond the fact that he’d knocked her clean off the wall. He’d also nearly outrun her in her own graveyard . . . that was impressive. And he hadn’t been smoking, or with a group of friends—so what was doing here in the first place?  She decided right then and there that if she ever saw him again, she would find out who he was—and scare the living daylights out of him. 

Harper ran faster, enjoying the graveyard she found homey rather than eerie. 

As stated earlier, Harper was not like most people.

💀

Early the next morning, Harper found herself regretting her late night run—or maybe just the late night punch to the stomach. 

“How does anyone do this without caffeine?” Harper groaned, throwing her arms dramatically around Camila and Leah’s shoulders so they had no choice but to half-carry her up the hill. The sun was only just peaking over the horizon on the first day of October in Autumnvale, which meant it was time to kick off the Missing Skeleton Festival by checking the crypt of Dolores Serrano and ensuring she hadn’t pulled another fast one. It was the sort of event most teenagers avoided, but as Camila’s mother was Mayor, Leah’s father was the town sheriff, and Harper’s parents were the caretakers of the graveyard, all three of them had attended every year as long as they could remember. 

It was town tradition—as was Harper complaining about the early hour to her two friends. 

Today the wind was sharp and cold as it swept through the oaks and aspens, and fluttered down onto the winding path Harper’s father had spent so long clearing. The townspeople all trudged in a quiet procession toward the old crypt in the far corner of the graveyard. Most of them seemed to find the moment beautiful. Peaceful. Reverent.

Harper was not one of those people.

“You know what this graveyard really needs?” she moaned. “A Starbucks. We could use one of the empty crypts. Extra spooky-chic.” Leah shushed her—as the sheriff’s daughter she sometimes acted like it was also her duty to uphold the law. Camila, in contrast, tried not to laugh. Harper kept going. “Seriously though, why do we have to do this every year? It’s not like the skeleton is going anywhere.”

“Tradition,” Leah said, all solemn and no-nonsense.

“Why is tradition always at the ass-crack of dawn?” Harper grumbled. “Can’t the dead wait ‘til noon?”

 Camila giggled, but Leah frowned, and shot her a dont-encourage-her look. “It’s how we honor those gone before us.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Harper said, though privately Harper thought that when she died, she’d much prefer her friends did something cool. Like take her ashes and spread them over some tropical island while hang gliding. 

Still, she couldn’t exactly say that when her parents owned the graveyard. Instead, she lowered her voice. “Next time we should live stream it. Or at the very least invite some cute boys.” For the first time, she regretted scaring the boy from last night—he would have been fun to invite. She didn’t recognize, which was saying something in a town where she’d know every boy since they were snotty nosed toddlers. Ugh. 

Leah didn’t share her opinion. “Show a little respect. This is Camila’s great-grandma we’re talking about.” 

“No, she’s got a point,” Camila said, laughing when Leah rolled her eyes at both of them. 

Finally they reached the top of the hill, crowned by an imposing crypt. The three of them shuffled to the front of the crowd. Camila’s mother, the town mayor, stood before the crypt, adjusting her hair and preparing for her annual speech. She looked sharp in a pants suit and heels. Privately Harper thought the shoes were a bad choice—they must have been a nightmare on the gravel trail. Still, the Serrano women didn’t let much stand in their way. 

Like death, for starters.

Mayor Serrano lifted her arms and the crowd fell silent as she began. “Sixty years ago today, my mother went to visit our family crypt—only to find the door open, and her mother’s skeleton, the founder of our wonderful town—gone. What followed the next thirty days was some of the worst in our town’s history. A terrible fire, missing pets, washed out roads, downed power lines, and then, sadly, we lost one of our own. It seemed the bad luck would never end.” She paused for a moment, letting the tension build. Harper stifled a yawn. “But then, on Oct 31st, Halloween, we returned to find the skeleton mysteriously returned. And, just as mysteriously, the bad luck ended that very night. Every year since, we have begun our town’s annual Missing Skeleton festival by returning to Dolores crypt, and ensuring that her skeleton lies resting in peace, watching over our town forevermore.”

Mayor Serrano stepped up to the crypt’s door, lifting the heavy key. “Therefore, let us begin this year’s festival by—”

A sudden gust of wind howled through the cemetery. The door groaned open—yet the key hadn’t even touched the lock.

Mayor Serrano’s hand was still extended, frozen.

A strange, electric shiver raced down Harper’s arms.  “Was that… supposed to happen?” she whispered to Camila. Normally, unlocking the crypt was a drawn-out (and frankly boring) affair. But now, the mayor stood frozen, key still raised, staring at the open door like she’d seen a ghost.

That couldn’t be right. 

Harper had watched her dad take the only key from his safe that morning—had watched him hand it to Mayor Serrano himself.

No one could’ve been here.

 And yet—

The wind howled. The crypt door flew wide with a loud bang. Someone screamed. The crowd rippled with shocked murmurs. Still, Mayor Serrano didn’t move.

No one did.

So Harper did what only a teenager raised among the dead would do.

She stepped forward, crossing the threshold of the crypt. The sun vanished behind her as the crypt swallowed her whole, its familiar chill curling around her like a warning. She’d been in and out of crypts her whole life, but something was different today. Something foreboding. 

Her breath caught as she stepped closer. 

She knew this crypt. She’d visited it countless times. The sarcophagus was always sealed—neat, tidy, undisturbed.

But today, the heavy stone lid was shoved aside.

 Inside lay nothing but dust.

She might’ve laughed, if her heart hadn’t been thudding so hard.

Harper turned on her heel and strode back into the light. The crowd gaped at her, waiting.

“The skeleton’s gone,” she declared, then gave a slow, crooked smile to her friends.

Maybe this year’s festival would be fun after all. 

💀

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