Gabriel Spooky Season

There was an annual All Hallows Eve work party every year at the station. Each year, someone new was elected to decorate, choosing the theme. Most, understandably concerned more with their job, leaned into the already creepy interior. The dungeon like precinct that was carved into the cliff side was bestowed with cobwebs and prop skeletons, allowing the candlelight that flickered around each corner to do most of the work. The mood was spooky. It was one that suggested torture. But most of all, it left everyone in a bad mood. The employees were around strife all day. The bedraggled look of a dungeon was doing nothing for moral.

So I took over this year.

Gabriel and I stood outside on the bridge that led towards the main office. He had put on a small black mask that covered only half of his face and painted a cut on his cheek. I didn’t know what he was supposed to be, but it was effort, and I wasn’t going to mock him for it.

“I apologize for my lateness,” he told me, sheathing his sword. “This night brings out the kind of people who think that egging the entirety of the street lit by heat lamps is fun.”

I tipped my head to the side, thinking of an alley full of scrambled eggs. “The mice probably love it.”

“I have taken several mice into custody under suspicion that they actually started it.”

As of late, Gabriel had been trying to learn the art of joking. It left me in a strange position where I straddled the line of belief and humor. He never did explain if he was being serious or not.

“Well, there are plenty of refreshments inside. Let’s get you in there to eat something that isn’t street eggs.”

“Did you find the decorations in storage useful?”

I found the decorations in storage mostly eaten. They would benefit far more from a dumpster than anything else.

“I went a different way this year,” I told him.

He frowned, but there wasn’t much discussion after that. It hadn’t been hard to convince him that I should take over the party planning. No one had volunteered, which meant it did fall on him. When he gave me no guidelines, I improvised.

“Is that music?” he asked as we approached the main door.

Whirling around on him, I stood as a barrier between the door and his body. “Don’t freak out.”

Of course, he looked like that was exactly what he wanted to do. We had been together long enough that he thankfully didn’t jump to conclusions. I reached behind me, opening the door while keeping eye contact with him, and gave it a shove.

The smell of pumpkin wafted from inside, along with the heat of dozens of candles and the warmth that naturally occurred when people were crammed into a room.

“Warden! You made it!” Sawyer stood off to the right of the main office, at the processing desk, wearing nothing but a pair of tiny shorts and a chef’s apron. He was making pumpkin waffles for a line of adoring fans who had to pay for the waffles by giving Sawyer a kiss on a cheek, or slapping a skeleton's ass. A skeleton that Hazel enchanted to make kissing noises with each smack.

The rest of the room was decorated with neon glittering pumpkins, a fondue fountain that had an assortment of breads, meats and cheese at the base, and a floating punchbowl that dipped down to refill anyones empty cup. Dark purple bats flew around the room while spiders dropped from the ceiling to spin silver silken webs. The webs cradled a large pile of balloons that kept forming from the enchantment stone that I had placed up in a crack in the ceiling. Occasionally, the web would snap and the balloons would follow down onto the officers below where they would send up a cheer and start tossing around the little bits of latex.

“What–?”

I turned to look at Gabriel’s stunned face. His lips were slightly parted as he observed the party that was happening. Because it was a party. Herald was up at the front, playing music from something that his father had in his basement. A victrola, he called it. Turner sat surely at his side. Meanwhile, Kimber was holding court with dozens of baked goods. Everyone looked lively, their cheeks pink from heat and laughter.

“Every year, you all throw this party and it looks like a funeral. In fact, I think some of the decorations were from a funeral. So, I changed it up. Your team deserves to have fun tonight. Not be reminded of the horrors they have to deal with.”

He continued to look around, his eye particularly narrowing as Sawyer shook his ass while cooking the waffles. I hoped that was the most offensive thing. Not the fact that I had broken tradition and blown the budget on decor.

I breathed a sigh of relief, however, when his shoulders sagged and a smile tugged at his lips. “We were getting a bit dour, I suppose.” That was an understatement.

Snatching his hand, I dragged him further into the room. Several of his team looked towards him with respectful nods, their cups refilling before their eyes to their very delight. 

“Warden,” one of his officers, a young individual with reptilian eyes, came stumbling up to us. Their bunny ears they had popped onto their head were halfway off and they sported a large kiss mark on their cheek that I was almost certain was from a certain waffle succubus. “This, respectfully, is the best party I’ve ever been to. Official request for the Night Market to be in charge of the Yule party.”

I squeezed his hand excitedly.

With a roll of his eyes, Gabriel took the officer's drink. “Put it in writing in the morning and I will think about it.”

The officer hiccuped and nodded their head. “Thanks, sir. Love you.” And they stumbled away.

“Well, I think you may have created a new tradition,” Gabriel told me. He set aside the procured drink before encircling me in his arms. “You think this good now, but I can assure you, it is not.”

“I like making people happy,” I reminded him. Planning office parties was the least of my stressors in life.

“No, that I believe. But you will have to help me tomorrow when they are all too hungover for patrol.” My body stiffened. Gabriel leaned forward so his lips brushed my ear. “Report for duty at dawn.”

“No,” I whined.

“Oh yes. It will be a long, grueling day, Prisoner 47b. Hope you are ready.”

I shivered as I caught the glint in his eye. “This is one of your jokes, right?”

“I’m going to go get a waffle.” He dropped his arms from around me and began walking off towards Sawyers corner.

“Gabriel,” I called after him. “This is a joke, right?” He said nothing. “Gabriel?” It was clear, that joke or not, I would be up at dawn.