The walk is just as she described it: well lit, a little long, and full of hills. I'm not sure why we're walking when I have a car but she assures me there will be nowhere to park. And, as she won't tell me where we're going, I can hardly do my own research. So I just have to trust her. Which is ... uncomfortable. It's like an itch beneath my skin or a tag rubbing against my neck.

But her hand is warm and soft and she smells of spices; it's exactly like someone just made a pumpkin pie.

I don't know why I trust her. I can't really figure out where it's coming from. My best guess is that it feels like she could defeat an oncoming army with nothing but a jack-o-lantern and her bare hands.

The fact that we just broke into an office together could also be contributing.

And probably a little piece of it is caused by my lack of desire to let go of her hand.

Which I'm trying to believe is because I feel responsible for her well-being. Which means I can't leave her here without a car. And I know there is a 0% chance I can coax her back to the car without completing our ... outing.

That's a lie. There's a 100% chance she'd leave with me if I asked her.

But I get the feeling that would be it. I'd take her home and she would let me.

If there's one thing I've figured out about Jack, it's that she isn't pushy. After everything that happened with Luther, I can see why she doesn't want to chase after people who don't want her.

But I want to be around her. She's fun.

I glance down at our hands joined together and let my eyes wander up the dark red sleeve of her sweater until I land on the necklace she'd selected. The whole time we were in the store, I couldn't keep my eyes off it. And somehow she was drawn to it too.

What are the odds?

"We're just about there," Jack says, interrupting my thoughts. "We just have to go through this stretch and it's the part that isn't particularly well-lit."

I glance where she's pointing. She's not wrong. "How long?" I ask, surveying the area.

"About two blocks." She stops and cranes her neck, as though she herself is calculating. "It looks like there's enough porch lights for us to walk through no problem. If you're okay."

I stare down the street. It's all that stands between me and Jack's next adventure. I want to go. I really do.

"I still don't understand why the city won't put in working streetlights down this stretch," she says, pulling her hand out of mine and clasping it in her other one. "I've reported it twice and it's still—"

"It's okay, Jack." I can't stop myself from putting my hand on top of hers to quiet her nerves. I wasn't planning to do that. I have no data to back it up. But something told me to do it and now, like every other time I'm in front of this woman, I'm flying without the benefit of my best skills.

Her shoulders visibly relax and she looks up at me, eyes searching. I don't know what she's looking for, so I freeze, allowing her to complete her analysis. She must find what she's looking for, because she nods and her face breaks into a huge, illuminating smile. "Okay," she says. "Let's go. Because you are going to love this!"

I am going to love this? I'm trying to hold my nerves together for this vibrant woman in front of me who seems suddenly nervous herself, but the fear bubbles up anyway. Darkness. Not being able to see what's ahead.

"It's okay," she whispers, sliding under my arm. "Is this okay?" She asks.

I'm so tense I can't breathe properly, but I pull her shoulder into my side. "Yeah. I'll be okay. You're here to protect me."

Her laugh rings louder than the cars honking at the next stop light or the music pouring out of a nearby club.

"I'll protect you, Alex." And then she holds up her exceptionally pointy high-heeled boot and taps the toe. "I have built in weapons."

They are very pointy shoes. That's true.

"Okay. I'm ready," I say, squeezing her shoulder before I notice it happening. "Let's go."

I feel like I really ought to be analyzing myself right now. I'm making no sense tonight. I'm going to be spending all of tomorrow running this through my head and I'm fairly confident I still won't have figured it out.

The stop light changes and Jack leads me into the street, stepping off the curb and pulling me across the lanes of traffic and through a darkened pathway between two houses, illuminated only by porch lights and the candles inside jack-o-lanterns.

I can't help myself. I laugh.

Jack must think I'm having a nervous moment, because she looks up at me, concern etched upon her face.

"What?" she asks. "Did I do something? Should we keep going?"

"Nothing," I say, still trying to hold back my laughter. "Just..."

"What?" she asks, relaxing slightly now into my arms.

"Earlier I was thinking you were so badass you could defeat any enemy with a jack-o-lantern and your bare hands and now we're here alone on a dark path and the only weapons we have are your shoes and all these jack-o-lanterns."

She stops, her heels no longer clicking against the pavement. The only sound is the hum of a crowd and the rushing of water from the nearby harbour.

"Oh man," she says finally. "You must think I'm really in a criminal mood tonight."

"I don't—" I stutter. "I mean, hopefully it won't come to that. Let's just get where we're going."

It all rushes out like water bursting through a dam.

"Scared, Alex?" she teases, picking up the pace and guiding me down the darkened sidewalk.

Am I scared?

Shitless.

I'm also having more fun than I think I ever have. Which is weird, because the last time someone tried to do a spontaneous activity with me, I think I punched Ernesto in the face. And broke my hand.

"Not really," I say, gripping her more tightly.

"You're very believable," she mocks. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone if you won't."

"Even if you did tell someone, I doubt they would believe it. Me, doing this? No one will believe you."

"So your reputation is safe then?" she asks. "Analytical and fearful?"

"Cautious," I believe is the commonly used term.

"I can see that," she muses. "But I think there's something in there that isn't as cautious as you'd like them all to think."

"I don't know what I'd like them to think," I tell her. "I just know what they do."

"Well, I also won't tell them about anything that's about to happen, then," she says, her eyes glistening in the low light. "But I think you'll love it."

She steps out from under my arm and lets my hand slide down her arm until her own fingers catch mine again. Her smile is incandescent. She looks so carefree and joyful. Not worried about what she looks like or who is looking. Just smiling. Happy. Light.

I squeeze her hand lightly in my own and take a deep breath. "Let's go."

She leads me down the rest of the street and around a corner. We are face to face with a large green space that surrounds an enormous mansion.

An imposing, gothic structure with darkened stone and shuttered windows. The whole thing is covered in false cobwebs and spiders, crawling ivy creeping up the side of the building, very eerie in the low light.

The architecture is stunning. Symmetry and irregularity battling for dominance in just the right proportions. In the bright light of summer, the view of the exterior and from the interior must be unmatched.

But right now, in the low light of a late fall evening, covered in Halloween decorations, it is eerie and creepy and awe-inspiring.

I take a step toward the front porch, my eye following the railing until it disappears around the side of the house. "It's beautiful," I admit when Jack steps up to my side.

"Do you want to go inside?" she asks. "It's dark, but it's safe."

I look down at her. How on earth does she know exactly what worries me before I've even told her. It took me how many years to figure out why things scare me and this woman analyzes them with such speed and accuracy I'm thrown on my back. She's impressive.

"Yes," I say, drawn toward the house more than I fear the darkness. "I want to go inside."

"Good," she admits, pulling me up the walkway and onto the front porch. "Because my back up plan was far less interesting."

"You had two plans?" I ask. "How did you have time to do that? How did you know I was going to say yes?"

"I didn't," she shrugs. "I just wanted to take it as it came."

We're standing on the porch, staring at each other, sizing each other up. Finally, she breaks the silence. "By the way, not all plans have to be made days in advance, you know. For example, I formulated this plan between the office building and your sister's van."

I shake my head and follow her across the wooden planks and follow her through the ornate door and into the darkened foyer of the house. The door closes automatically behind us with a reverberating slam.

My whole body reacts, jumping and tensing and flipping around to stare at the door. It's certainly electrical or mechanical in nature, but it does an excessively good job of appearing otherworldly. My heart rate slowly decreases with every purposefully slowed breath I take.

"Did you bring me to a haunted house?" I ask Jack when my body returns to normal.

"That took you a few more seconds than I expected," she replies, poking my shoulder. "You still up for it?"

"I actually like haunted houses," I poke back. It's not entirely true, but it's not entirely untrue, either. And the smile on her face shoots straight to my chest.

"Awesome."

That's all it takes before she pulls me to the left, through a black curtain and another ornate wooden door. Finally, we reach a narrow hallway with only turn-of-the century lighting options. Once the door is fully closed, Halloween music sets the tone and flickering lights provide movement against the wall, masking whatever it is that lurks in the low light.

It's excellently done. And I can't wait to watch Jack. I need to see her love this.

But she seems to have the same idea, because when I look over to watch her engage with the whole experience, I see her staring right back at me, cheek pulled up in a vibrant smile. Her eyes question me, drawing over my face.

"Are you experimenting on me right now?" I ask, pulling back slightly. "Is that why I'm here?"

She shakes her head. "Only you would say that."

She laughs quietly, pressing up onto her toes and pulling my shoulder down until she can whisper into my ear. "I just want to watch you experience this."

A shiver rolls through my spine and she smiles, I can tell because her lips graze against my cheek as she does.

I should say something, but I don't. I don't want to ruin whatever it is that's happening here.

"Close your eyes," she whispers.

The cool air rushes in and swirls around my skin as she retreats, pulling both of my hands into her own and backing down the hallway.

I follow her, slowly traversing the uneven planks and deep red carpet runner. With every step, the anticipation of what is going to happen causes the fear to incrementally intensify. By the time we're half way down the hall, my shoulders are starting to tense appreciably.

"Close your eyes," she repeats, checking over her shoulder once more. "Trust me."

I take a deep breath. I feel her thumb against the back of my hand. And I close my eyes.