Page 75 of The Debutantes
“You.” He sneers at April, standing just a few steps into the main room, her camera pointed directly at the throne.
And then a new figure materializes from the darkness.
The Jester, looking like he’s been hiding there in the shadows all along, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
28APRIL
JANUARY 2, 10:20P.M.
In the seconds after the flash, I have two thoughts, certain as the close of the shutter. First, our plan worked—the Jester is here, we’ve got photo evidence, and we’ve got his attention.
And second:fuck.
Because he’s coming toward me.
Instinct kicks in, waking up my feet and pushing me back down the hallway, toward the bathroom—to lure the Jester there, like we planned—but I’ve only taken a few steps before I stop cold.
Renee still stands on the throne, the Rougarou’s grip tight on her arm.
I’m not leaving a girl behind. Not again.
I run at full speed toward her, fast and easy in my sneakers. Halfway there, Vivian steps in front of me, blocking my path with her height.
“What are you doing?” Piper snaps beside her. “We have to go!”
The Jester is pushing his way toward us, slowed by theconfused, stagnant pool of the crowd, but not enough that we can waste time. Marty is coming this way, too.
And then someone else appears: Jason Broussard. He’s pulled off his mask, wide-eyed with panic. Vivian flinches away from him, but he holds out a hand.
“Wait. I want to help. I—” He looks over my shoulder. “The front entrance. The staff is gone tonight.”
I glance at Vivian and Piper, who look like trusting Jason is the last thing they want to do, but I’m not really sure we have another choice.
I look him dead in the eyes.
“Help her get out safe,” I say, glancing at Renee. “And don’t come after us.”
He looks a little confused, almost hurt, but he nods. “Okay. Yeah, I can do that.”
I turn to Vivian. “Should we run?”
But she’s still focused on the Jester. Waiting, I realize, until he’s just close enough that he’ll be on our tail. That we can lure him out of here. And then, when he’s only a few feet away—
“Go!” Vivian sprints toward the entrance, and we’re right behind her, flying down the hallway and through the door with our skirts floating behind us like comet trails. My camera bangs against my hip bone as I run, but I grit my teeth, telling myself it’s a reminder that we did it. We have proof: Marty unmasked, the whole terrifying ritual captured in tableau.
At the bottom of the stairs, Vivian shoves the door open, and we tumble into the gift shop. It’s empty, lights off. Jason was right: even the cashier is gone. For Marty and the others, tonight must have been too special, too secret, to be shared with anyone outside their immediate circle.
“Everyone okay?” Vivian pauses to check on us, clearly noteven winded. Piper and I, on the other hand, are breathing hard.
“Oh, I’m great,” Piper quips. “Cardio? Done. Crushed it. Now what’s the plan, since we’ve clearly deviated from the trap-the-Jester-in-the-bathroom thing?”
In answer, the stairwell door swings open, the Jester barreling through.
“Run!” Vivian shouts.
Like we needed the instructions. In a flash, Vivian pulls off her shoes, and Piper follows suit—and then we’re racing again into the night. The Jester’s on our tail, but we’re even faster now that none of us have heels to contend with. Vivian takes the lead, and we follow her down Royal Street until she takes a sharp turn onto a narrow road. Through the adrenaline, I recognize this as Pirates Alley, a stretch of stone path between the St. Louis Cathedral and the Cabildo. It’s one of the many supposedly haunted places in the French Quarter, and tonight, it looks it: deserted, lit only by the glow of the streetlamps, shadows reaching from the iron cathedral fence like claws.
Halfway down the alley, Vivian slows, and I realize that this is where we’re doing this. I’ve barely had time to prepare myself before he’s here: the Jester, standing at the opening of the alley, where we entered only moments before. His shoulders heave, probably because it’s hard to run in such a ridiculous costume, which might make me laugh if it weren’t for the fear burrowing deep in my bones.
