Page 22 of Make Her Scream

13

ROMAN

I check on Ophelia, making sure she’s not about to lose her shit. I can only imagine what she’s been through tonight, and seeing Cain covered in blood might tip her over the edge.

But our beautiful, brave girl only seems full of determination. Something switched inside her as we made it through the woods, and instead of wanting to run, there’s a new glint in her dual-colored eyes that tells me she wants revenge.

We enter the office. Cain has clearly thought about Ophelia as he’s thrown a rug over the dead man’s body, and it’s bundled in the corner. I note the way her gaze is drawn to it, though, perhaps wondering if he’s one of the men who dared to touch her. It’s hard not to be conscious of a dead body when you’re occupying the same space as one.

Cain jerks his head toward a bank of screens, which have been positioned on one side of the room, showing security footage. A couple of the screens have cracks in them, and one has fallen on the floor, clearly casualties of the fight.

“They’ve split up,” he says. “Look.”

Sure enough, one of the men is standing beside the ticket booth. On his face is a skeleton mask, similar to mine.

“How did he know?” Ophelia squeaks.

I frown. “How did he know what?”

“Which kind of mask you wear?”

I hook my arm around her neck and pull her into me to place a kiss against her temple. “They didn’t know, baby. It’s Halloween. It’s just a coincidence. A terrible fucking coincidence.”

She sniffles and nods. “Okay.” Then she strengthens her voice. “Okay.”

“We’re going to make them pay for hurting you,” I tell her. “Hurting you and all the women who came before you. We’ll make sure they never get to lay a finger on anyone ever again.”

She leans into me, her body softening, and I hold her tighter. She trusts us completely to do this, and there is no way we’re letting her down.

Malachi studies the screens, rubbing at his mouth with his fingers. “Three more to find. Are they likely to be in the woods? Chasing us?”

“Yeah, could be,” Cain says. “But they’re going to come back eventually when they realize they can’t find us, and then we’ll be ready for them. But while they’re separated, we need to take advantage of it.”

He locks eyes with me, and I understand exactly what he’s saying; another one down will leave only three to go.

“Mal, you stay here with Ophelia. Cain and I will be back.”

Malachi pouts. “How come you get to have all the fun?”

“We’ll save one of the others for you, I swear.” I kiss Ophelia on the mouth. “We’ll be quick.”

“Be careful,” she orders me. “I love you.” She looks around. “I love all of you.”

“We love you, too.” I can’t help kissing her again, relishing the softness of her lips. It hurts to tear myself away, but we have to do this.

I hate myself for having put her in this situation. I’d thought I was making one of her dreams come true and, instead, I’ve plunged her into the middle of a nightmare. This is all on me. I found this place and made contact with them, not Cain, not Mal. Me!

God knows what happened to her in those tunnels below the funhouse. I’m terrified to find out because I think I’ll totally lose it. The urge to feel pain, of the kind that is white-hot, self-inflicted, and cleansing, rides me hard, but I can’t give in to it.

Why didn’t I do some kind of protection spell before we left? At this time of year, the magic is stronger than ever. I know my fellow Preachers don’t fully buy into that kind of folklore the way I do, but I’ve been a fool not to consider it.

Maybe we’re getting too soft. Life has been comfortable since we freed Ophelia from the clutches of the Prophet. We’ve been lulled into a false sense of security. That was a mistake. One I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for, assuming I survive this encounter.

Cain and I slip from the office and head back toward the ticket booth. We both have our weapons in hand, and I glance over at Cain, holding the knife, with blood all over him. He looks like he’s an installation in the Halloween themed funhouse, but I guess I don’t look much better myself, stalking the deserted fairground at night, brandishing a meat cleaver.

Now we know no one is watching the security cameras, other than Ophelia and Mal, we don’t have to be too cautious. As long as the man in the skeleton mask doesn’t look our way, he won’t hear us coming, not with all the noise from the fair. He’s standing in the same spot we saw him in on the cameras, looking toward the woods, waiting for his brothers to return. Perhaps fed up with wearing his mask, he removes it from his face and scrubs a hand over his eyes.

Cain took the last one, so this piece of shit is my turn, and I am relishing the chance.