Chapter Thirty-Eight

Emma

Not twenty feet ahead of me, Lorenzo Moretti struggles to heave Ben’s limp body into the trunk of a beat-up Impala. My fingers grip into the fender of the car Marcel and I hide behind, and I swear the metal creaks.

“Stay here,” Marcel says, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ll go get Lars or Duncan or someone… Hey!”

There’s no time. I stride between the cars separating us, not even trying to hide my approach. Let Lorenzo see me. Let him see me and be afraid.

“Hey, jackass,” I say, planting my feet wide in the dying grass.

Lorenzo turns, brow glistening with sweat and furrowed in frustration. I twine my fingers together and lock my elbows, swinging my arms as hard as I can into his stomach. It’s like hitting him with a baseball bat. The air whooshes out of him, and his eyes go wide with shock before he tumbles backward.

Marcel skids to a stop beside me, nearly tripping over Lorenzo. “Holy hell, Emma!”

I don’t have time to think about what I did, about how close Lorenzo got to taking Ben outside the confines of the carnival, where I wouldn’t be able to get to him. I just have to make sure Ben is safe.

“Help me get Lorenzo into this trunk,” I say.

Marcel grabs Lorenzo’s legs, and I take his arms, tossing him—with little regard for his comfort—into the small space. Marcel moves to lock Lorenzo away, but as we’re slamming the trunk down, I hear a little groan. Ben.

“Marcel, tell Lars where Lorenzo is and then bring whoever you can here.” I point toward an abandoned booth in the shadow of the Ferris wheel. “No one will think to look for us there. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

I don’t take my eyes off Ben, but the crunch of gravel is enough to tell me that Marcel has run off to do as I asked. Kneeling beside him, I shake Ben’s shoulder. “Hey. I need you to wake up.”

“Don’t want to,” he grumbles, one hand slipping beneath his glasses to rub at his eye.

If fear weren’t fizzing through me, I might find this absofuckinglutely adorable. But I don’t have the luxury of thoughts like that, not till we’re safe. I lean in close, until we’re inches apart. “Ben! It’s still dangerous. Two of the Morettis are still out here, and—”

It’s like my voice has finally pierced through the fog. His eyes fly open, so blue, so bright, and he focuses in on me.

“Emma,” he says, my name a gentle exaltation. “Are you okay?” he asks, even though he is the one I found passed out and about to be abducted.

“I’m fine—” Better than fine, for the first time in a long time, but I can’t think about that. “But we have to hide. Now.”

He doesn’t question, just acts. Quicker than I would have thought possible considering the state I found him in, he hops up and takes hold of my hand, his grip fierce. He lets me lead as we dart through the parked cars and trucks, headed back toward the shouting and panicked people. We only have a short distance to cover before the Ferris wheel looms above us.

It’s a perfect circle of golden light set apart from all the other attractions.

“Let’s go,” Ben says. “We’ll stop at the top, and no one will think to look for us up there.”

The short stretch of matted down dirt and weeds between us and the Ferris wheel feels like it’s a million miles long. There’s no cover, and the whole point of hiding on the ride would be for nothing if someone saw us. I can feel his pulse pressing against my wrist where our hands are joined, can feel his shoulders heaving from the exertion of running.

The yelling and sounds of confusion behind us are the confused squeaks of small woodlands animals. Benjamin stumbles on a rock or a root or something and almost goes down, but his fingertips brush against the ground and he pushes himself back up.

Our feet make hollow pounding sounds as we run up the steps to the ride, and I throw open the door to one of the cars while Benjamin pries the cover off the control panel and roots around inside. I keep my eyes on the rows of shining booths and tents, sure that someone is going to burst out of the line and find us at any minute. Finally Benjamin pulls out a small box and jumps into the car with me.

He wrenches an antenna up, flips a silver switch, and presses a green button. The world grows smaller as we drift up, and the whole time I find myself praying that no one sees the lights of the Ferris wheel moving in a slow circle against the blue-black of the sky.

When we’re almost at the top, Benjamin punches a red button, and the wheel slows, stopping just past the apex. The car rocks gently with dying momentum. The night is breezy, but nowhere near as windy as the night I’d been up here with Sidney.

Sidney.

Unbidden, I am reminded of his bright grin, of the cocky way he had tipped back his hat to look at me under the moonlight. I hunt the grounds to find the top of the haunted house. I see the line of winding taillights of cars trying to escape the horror they’d seen, and a flicker of orange, more like a fire than the electric glow of a game. Dark shadows cluster here and there; a group around Happy’s trailer, and lingering by the spot where Sidney died. A soft, dry rasp escapes my throat.

Ben slides an arm around my shoulders, rubbing small, soothing circles onto my back. “It’s okay.” His voice is distant, and I can tell that he’s on the lookout, too. But for the moment, we seem to be safe. “Emma,” he says, an odd wobble in his voice, “I need to tell you something.”

His cheeks are ruddy from running, and the wind has rumpled his hair into seventy different angles. His eyes are too bright, wide like baby moons, and even after everything that’s happened, he wears a lopsided sort of grin.

I have a terrible, terrible thought.

“Where were you earlier?” I ask.

“Doesn’t matter.” He steals another furtive glance toward the carnival and I do the same. At the edge of the tents are two figures. I freeze.

But Benjamin doesn’t see them.

“Emma, I know you’re nervous about breaking the curse, but—”

I whip around to face him again. It all clicks. His stumbling over nothing. The happy, sloppy smile. And the only, only reason he’d bring up the curse now, after all that happened.

No.

If I could still feel, his skin would be hot to the touch. If I could smell, the scent of flowers and alcohol would be all around me. If I asked him, he’d tell me his mouth feels as though it’s lined with flower petals.

“You didn’t.”

“I did.” His eyes are unflinching. “I love you, Emma.”

I want him and everything he’s offering. But can I watch him almost die?

I turn away, and that’s when I see the two dark shadows peel away from the alley and start walking toward the Ferris wheel.

“Benjamin,” I say, gripping onto his arm.

“It’s going to work, I promise. We’ll follow Katarina’s instructions and the curse will break. I’ve drunk the wine. You know my true name, but just in case you need all of it, my name is Benjamin James Singer.”

He moves across the small space that separates us and kisses me.

His mouth is soft and insistent, and one hand reaches up to cradle my cheek. He’s not just warm, he’s a fire, and I want to bask in his glow. My eyes flutter closed, and for a brief second, everything is okay because I am with him. When he pulls away, the heat of him lingers. The night is alive with colors that hadn’t been there seconds before. A thready pulse of life throbs in the center of my chest, my hands and arms trembling with it.

“Kiss me when you get down there, Em,” he says, pressing something hard and cold into my hands.

And then he throws himself from the car.

“No!” I lean over the edge, dropping whatever it was Ben gave me as I grip the side of the car tight. Ben seems to fall forever, his golden hair rippling in the rush of air. I can’t look. There’s a terrible crunch and a scream of pain, followed by the sound of splintering wood.

Far, far below me Benjamin lies like a broken doll in the dust, his legs splayed out at an angle that’s all kinds of wrong. Blood trickles from the side of his mouth, the mouth that had been kissing mine moments before.

And in the dirt beside him are the broken remnants of a remote control.