20

 

I walked beside Sonja, my arm linked with hers as we skirted the waves that rushed across the sand before foaming softly at our feet. What I read yesterday at Café Apocalypse weighed heavy on my mind. Not able to quite make my understanding of Noble go with the upsetting events the articles mentioned, I set them aside and decided to speak with Sheriff Thompson before I did anything more. Still, time did not seem to be something Sonja was willing to give me. She woke in the morning with a plan to retrace Niklos’s last days.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” I hoped to talk her out of ripping open fresh wounds.

“I just think if I know how, or why, he disappeared in the first place, then maybe…” Her voice trailed off. Gaze on the flag poles jutting from the forest canopy, her steps faltered. “Maybe I will understand how he came to be where he was…was found.”

I soothed her, my hand on hers. I didn’t know what to say or how to help. I only knew that I wanted to protect her, and sifting through the last, probably painful hours of her fiancé’s life seemed like a very bad idea.

“Mama said that Sheriff Thompson is a good man,” I said finally. “Honest. He will do a thorough job.”

“He is a good man. Even though I could see on his face that he believed Niklos left, he did keep looking.” Nodding, she wiped at her face with pale fingers. “But I think maybe more of our families will speak with me. The sheriff is not Romany. He’s not one of the clans.”

“If someone had knowledge, they should have said something to you before.” I gritted my teeth at the thought of Sonja’s pleas for help going unheeded just because she was my sister. “What makes you think it will be different now?”

“Niklos is…gone,” she whispered. “He did not leave with his family. I was right.”

“Do you know when they are returning?”

“Their flight was cancelled due to the weather up north, and now with the squall threatening Noble it may be a little longer. No matter. Thompson will not release Niklos until the Seattle police have signed off on that, and they have yet to weather the storm to come to Noble.”

I stopped walking, remembering something. “Sonja, on that first night, at the Adder Inn, you said that ‘he just needed to do something’ before you two could be together.”

I felt her stiffen and alarm shot through me when her gaze slid away.

“I do not remember.” She shrugged, casting her gaze out to sea. “That night is a blur, Raven.”

“Sonja, I want to help you,” I said, tugging on her sleeve. “Is there something you did not tell me?”

“No.” She fiddled with a snag in her sweater

My unease worsened.

What was she not telling me? Taking a deep breath, Sonja straightened her shoulders and faced me with a brave expression.

“Sonja—”

“I think you will fix things with Papa,” she said across me. “Dinner last night was not terrible.”

I smiled, remembering the strained references to the storm and ferry traffic. It was a little, but we were talking, the four of us, after almost five years, and it felt so hopeful.

“It was what it was,” I said and realized my mother said that.

“You know who you sound like?” The corner of her mouth tipped up in the slightest of smiles.

“I do.” Catching her by the shoulders, I made her face me. “Will you let me help you with this?”

A flicker of unease crossed her features. “I don’t know if you should.”

“No, I know,” I said, waving her off even as my own heart fell. “Me on the doorstep of Niklos’s family will probably not help you at all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I want to help. If staying away is help, then I will do that.” Forcing a smile, I tugged gently on her long braid. “Just guard your heart. This is not your fault. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

She blinked and I saw the tears welling, but she squeezed my hand and looked towards the village. “What will you do today? Will you be OK?”

“Of course.” I nudged her. “Go. I will see you at dinner.”

She left with a reluctant glance back at me.

Nearing the final week of August, the last warmth of summer whispered over the sea and through the trees, making the great oaks sway and creak. I had not expected to be here on Noble so many days and my clothes would prove too thin if I stayed into September. Bundled in Siyah’s burgundy sweater, I caught just the faintest scent of him; sandalwood and wild grass, and it triggered the memory of his low laugh and deep blue eyes. My breath caught.

Standing at the place where the sand met the cobblestones of the village walk, a light on the water caught my eye and I turned. Shrouded in a drifting fog, Siyah’s boat, Corvus, swayed and dipped with the swells just beyond the jetty. The long arch of the lantern post curved over the deck, a soft glow still visible in the foggy morning. I heard he was not at the bonfire last night, but stayed within easy reach of the beach. Siyah never left the boat without extinguishing the lantern. He was still there.

Confusion and worry bubbled together as I prayed.

Lord, please help me to know if I’m doing the right thing. I want so much to ease my sister’s pain.

Inside the knapsack at my hip I closed my fingers around the printouts from the city, thinking. Pushing down the apprehension squeezing at me, I told myself it was morning, not midnight. There was no reason to fear the old carnival. No better time than now.

 

****

 

Mist tumbled in slow eddies across the main path of the boardwalk. The temperature had dropped during my walk, telltale signs of a summer storm approaching. It muted the sun until there was nothing but a wan glow over the jagged tree tops. A chilled wind ruffled the edges of the fog making forms emerge and sink as it moved over the rides and booths. Pulling Siyah’s sweater tighter, I took in a breath, determined.

Stories about sightings of Crawley’s mangled body stalking the boardwalk planks, and reports of the anguished cries of his mother on moonless nights gave me the chills.

I’d heard her real cries on that day and they still haunted my thoughts. Shaking off the unease, I unfurled the map of the grounds from the county assessor’s report. According to the schematics, a series of service tunnels snaked under the boardwalk’s streets. Designed to keep staff and supplies out of sight, the tunnels ran the length of the entire grounds. The assessor’s report stated that the underground network was closed when the boardwalk was shut down. Afraid of children getting lost or teenagers using them, the board of governors paid a local construction company to seal all the entrances. Last night, unable to sleep, I’d studied the printouts from the café.

If I couldn’t help Sonja find out what happened to Niklos one way, then I’d find another. Somehow, someone put Niklos there. I doubt they walked up the street hauling him over their shoulder. I hadn’t seen or heard a car, either. Emerging from the woods, I would have heard if there was someone walking among the branches and leaves close by. No, there was only one way I could think of to move a body undetected, and that was the tunnels. And though they were supposedly sealed off…what if they missed one? I meant to find out for myself.

The first door leading into the underground network was behind the carousel structure, and I swallowed the fear in my throat as I skirted the grotesque horses and tarnished mirrors. Fog hung between the poles of the ride, shifting eerily like a waiting specter. Avoiding the reflections, I pulled back the curtain of ivy that hid the door and let out a frustrated breath. The door was removed, cemented over. Shaking my head, I looked for the other two entrances, one near the food court and the other by the Ferris wheel, both also sealed off.

Dejected, I wandered over to the far end of the carnival grounds where I’d first seen Siyah burning wood. Sitting on the rim of the fire pit, I rubbed my eyes, disappointed. I thought that I had something, a place to start helping Sonja. Instead, it seemed that I wandered these unsettling grounds for nothing. I’d been so sure.

The night I found Niklos, I saw something on the carousel. If it hadn’t been for Thompson telling me he’d seen the same thing, I might have convinced myself that all the stress of that night made me imagine things, but I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t wrong.

I sat up when I realized I had heard something in the funhouse that first day when I came to talk with Siyah, though he said he was alone.

Looking over at the funhouse entrance, I debated, my nerves ratcheting up. I’d never liked the funhouse even when it was lit up and full of people. Now, dark and silent, the building let off a menacing feeling that pushed through me like a frigid wind.

This is for Sonja. Despite what happened here, you don’t believe in curses and ghosts.

I forced myself to walk to the entrance. Painted to resemble a genie, the door’s giant green face pushed through the hazy shroud, making me pause. The sun-faded grimace, red paint peeling from the lips like dead skin, and crazed eyes of the face worried me despite the early hour.

Taking a flashlight from my bag, I flicked it on and leaned into the mouth of the fun-house, listening. Dead silence engulfed the cavernous structure. I shivered as I took a step in. Droplets danced in the flashlight beam, the mist pushing through the open mouth, coating everything with a sheen of moisture. Skittering yanked a gasp from me, and I slashed the light beam to the wall at the side. A channel meant for the old black lights housed bunches of twigs that stank of rat urine. Covering my nose and mouth with the sweater’s collar, I kept going, trying to avoid touching anything.

The dark corridor narrowed and spirals painted on the walls gave the illusion that I tipped more and more to the side as I walked. Disoriented, I leaned my hand on the wall for support only to feel the sticky pull of cobwebs. I thrashed at the fine filaments, shuddering at the thought of a spider in my hair or down my blouse.

Trash and old wrappers rustled under my shoes. An echo floated out of the dark from deeper down the hall; metal clattered. I froze, afraid to be heard and fighting the urge to ask who was there.

“That’s it,” I whispered. “I can’t do this.” I turned back.

A deep rumbling shook the floor beneath me, vibrating up my legs and making me stumble. Startled, I turned just as a wave of dank air tore through the ride, whipping my hair. I flattened myself against the craggy wall, panting with panic, eyes squeezed shut. The wind died to a gentle breeze. Shaking, I shone my light down the dark corridor. Spider webs billowed from the air vents.

Just…keep it together, Raven. Maybe the funhouse is still on a timer for ventilation. Siyah would do that, to air out the ride for renovations…right?

Determined not let my imagination get the better of me, I stood and brushed off my clothes, adjusting the bag strap across my chest. Using the flashlight, I panned the walls looking for the entrance to the hall of mirrors, remembering that it was the first room. A reflected beam struck my eyes, and I yelped, momentarily believing someone else was in here until I saw the first set of mirrors and let out a relieved breath. Made to look like an underwater cave of Atlantis, strange sea creatures hung dusty and faded, hovering over the walls of mirrors that twisted and turned in a maze across the floor.

I tried to remember the path out. Growing taller and then squat, I navigated past my distorted images as I walked, but the darkness of the room and the glare of my beam made the maze more difficult than I remembered. Taking a wrong turn, I gasped when I walked into a clear plastic wall thinking it was a way out. I stopped, rubbed my forehead, and hoped I didn’t reopen the cut from the day before.

Shuffling footsteps nearby sent a trill of fear through me.

Covering the flashlight beam with my hand, I froze, listening.

Awkward and uneven, the gait seemed off.

I flashed on the memory of the monstrous form in the woods that chased me down.

It’s probably just Siyah. He’s doing work here and you’re cowering in the corner.

“S–Siyah…” My voice shook as I squinted towards the entrance to the hall of mirrors.

The movement stopped, replaced with a ragged breathing that tore through the darkness. A violent crash nearly toppled the mirror at my back, throwing me to the floor. I screamed, stumbling as the flashlight flew out of my hand and slammed against a mirror. The light went out. Plunged into darkness, I crawled, whimpering with fear and confusion. Another powerful clatter and the mirror next to me smashed to the floor, blocking my path.

Move, I have to move.

Scrambling backwards, I got to my feet and flailed, palms out, trying to get my bearings in the pitch black. More movement, closer now, vaulted panic into my chest. The strange low hiss of breath drove spikes of terror through my mind. I slammed into another wall, backed up and thrashed in the opposite direction. Finding an opening, I heard another crash just behind me as I stumbled through a doorway, sprawling onto the floor. Breath knocked out of me, a croaking moan escaped my throat. I clamped my hands over my mouth, listening.

Crackling glass underneath footsteps prodded me to move, and I gathered my skirt and ran across the wood floor of the tilting room. My ballet flats were silent as I tore across the dark, tripping and skidding in the hollows and humps of the crazy landscape. A thud behind me, like a body falling, followed by an anguished groan sent a shudder through me. At the door I squinted left, then right, frantic for a way out of the funhouse. Faint light down the corridor spurred me to move. I ran in a crouch, willing myself to be careful, not to make noise.

Heavy footfalls, staccato on the wood floor, came just behind me.

Something pulled on my purse strap, and I yanked away, choking on a scream before realizing it was a door handle. It turned and I could make out the glow-in-the-dark lettering. It was a maintenance room. Sure that my form was visible in the dim light of the corridor, I took a chance, slipped into the room, and locked the door with trembling fingers. Heart racing painfully, I pulled out my phone and used the screen to peer around the room. It provided barely enough light to see a few feet, but it was better than total darkness.

I panned the light, searching for another way out. Covered in trash, the floor darkened strangely in the center. Moving closer, my eyes adjusted, and I made out the opening of a shaft cut into the tiles. I found a pen in my purse, dropped it down the hole and heard it clatter below a second later.

My breathing caught when a scrape at the door sounded behind me, the snuffling breaths of a beast searching for me. I whispered a desperate prayer, swung my legs down into the hole, and slipped into the darkness.