As midnight approached, the Halloween party began to wind down. The smart thing to do was leave too, but I’d been hovering near the door and hadn’t seen the gorgeous girl with jet black hair and cherry red lips leaving. She’d flirted with me earlier and I really wanted her contact details.

I found the distinguished-looking man dressed as Count Dracula standing next to me. “Are you staying for the private celebration?”

“Do you think the host will mind? I’m here as a plus one and my principal has already left,” I lied.

Dracula laughed. “I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.”

Why didn’t that reassure me?

On the stroke of midnight, a gong sounded and the door was locked.

Probably to stop the drunks getting back in, I rationalised. Some guests had partaken very liberally.

“I’m glad you’re staying.”

It was her, and she was standing next to me.

“I couldn’t leave without even knowing your name.”

“That’s sweet. I’m Pandora.”

“Jonathan.” Why had I told her my real name?

She hugged me and lightly bussed my cheek with soft lips. Her scent was intoxicating and she was soft and squeezable in exactly the right places. I was in love!

I made to kiss her but she smiled and daintily glided out of the way. She offered her hand and I accepted.

“Come,” she said, gently pulling me. “Let’s get some fortification before we go outside.”

She led me into the dining room, where the sumptuous buffet I’d pigged on earlier had been replaced by a large bowl of evil-looking punch. Pandora poured two glasses, handing me one.

“Good fortune,” she toasted, clinking glasses.

I mirrored her drinking. The fiery liquid burned my throat. I’d only had two drinks all night: as a party-crasher I needed to keep my wits about me. But suddenly I found my empty glass being refilled and I was feeling really good.

“Attention everybody,” announced Dracula. “It’s quarter to one. Let’s move outside.”

Dracula was the host. Still, he hadn’t seemed upset by my presence.

Pandora drained her glass and again I mirrored her. She gently pulled me in the direction the others were going, out through a set of patio doors and down the garden. It was chilly outside yet the punch kept me warm inside.

It was a clear night and the moon was full, so we had no problems seeing where we were going, which turned out to be further than I expected; following a trail through a section of woodland until we eventually reached a clearing with a tall rectangular sarsen stone in the centre.

“You’re new to the ritual, aren’t you?” Pandora asked.

I nodded.

“Just stick with me and do as I do. You’ll do fine.”

That turned out to be forming a circle round the stone and holding hands with both neighbours. Pandora squeezed my hand reassuringly.

Dracula somehow mounted the stone and stood on top, chanting something in an unfamiliar, gutteral language. The light grew eerily brighter and there came a rather unpleasant sulphurous odour. Probably a marsh nearby.

The woman to my left released my hand and approached the stone. She kissed it then, walking backwards, retraced her steps until she could take my hand again.

“It’s one o’clock,” whispered Pandora. “The end of Witching Hour, when everyone who’s due to go to Hell has to leave. We kiss the portal to give thanks for another year of safekeeping.”

One by one, everyone made their way to the stone and kissed it. Then It was Pandora’s turn. She relinquished my hand and glided to the stone, placing a firm kiss on it. Then she turned to me and smiled, beckoning me to approach.

“Place a kiss on the portal,” she encouraged from my side. “It’s not unhygienic.”

I tentatively reached out with my lips and placed a light kiss on the unexpectedly warm stone. Pandora gave me a firm push in the back and I found myself tumbling through the portal.