Page 27 of Make Her Scream

But it’s enough to allow Roman to finally grab the gun. Calm and deadly, Roman picks it up, aims at Clown’s spine, and pulls the trigger.

17

MALACHI

The man who’d been wearing the clown mask lies face down on the tent floor, blood spreading like an oil spill across his back.

I climb off the one I’d been stabbing. He’d fallen still several thrusts of the knife ago, but I’d been unable to stop myself bringing it down over and over. After what these bastards have put us through, it was like all my rage was pouring through the blade.

Now I’m out of breath and shaking, but the rage has subsided. The men are all dead, and we’ve survived.

Cain approaches me, puts out his hand, and hauls me to my feet.

Roman is with Ophelia, his arms wrapped around her, and she’s crying against his chest.

I look around for the girl who saved us. For a second, I think she’s gone, but then she materializes from between the shelves stacked with abominations.

“You need to go,” she says, her voice thin.

“What the fuck is all of this?” Roman asks from over the top of Ophelia’s head. “Are these all real? These are their victims, aren’t they?”

Ophelia gives a little cry.

The girl doesn’t answer. “I found your truck hidden down the lane on the west side of the fairground. The keys are in it.”

She’s giving us a lifeline. Saving us again.

“What about you?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer but disappears back out of the tent flaps.

“We need to call the police,” Roman says. “These are victims. Their families need to know what’s happened to them.”

Ophelia stares at him. “No! That would be horrific. Those poor families. That’s not closure. That’s going to torment them for the rest of their lives.”

“Angel,” Cain says, “they’re already being tormented by the loss of their loved one.”

“Yeah, but not like this.” Her voice is a whisper, and her eyes fill with more tears.

Maybe she has a point.

A sharp scent assaults my nostrils. I recognize but can’t place it, but then I hear a glug and the slosh of liquid.

Gasoline.

Cain smells it, too. “Fuck. We need to get out of here.”

I couldn’t agree with him more.

Roman grabs Ophelia’s hand, and I follow Cain. We burst out of the tent together to find the sister with a can of gasoline in her hand, throwing it all over the canvas.

“It’s better this way,” she says. “This should never have existed.”

She’s right.

“Wait,” Cain says. “We have something to add.”

He shoots me a look, and I understand what he means. Together, we run back to the control room and pick up the rug containing one of the other brothers. We haul it back to the freak show tent and throw it inside. Then we do the same for the brother who’d been killed by the ticket office.