Page 9 of The Carnival

I run a hand through my hair, staring up into the twinkling of stars above me, and take another breath. Beneath the never-ending carnival music that seems to steadily play, I hear a voice — my sister’s voice. Evelyn’s unmistakable pitch.

“Emmy.”

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

I stand up, “Evelyn! I’m here, Evie!”

Chapter 8

I don’t know where here is anymore, but the sound of her voice breaks my heart.

“Evie! Are you there?” I ask more softly, unaware of who else might linger here. I wipe the tears from my cheeks that escaped at some point.

I walk towards the voice only two steps before I nearly jump out of my skin when someone catches my wrist, halting my movement.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Kenan’s voice says beside me. “Plus, you’re making a scene. I’d heavily advise against that as well.”

I let out a low laugh, a sound that is full of tears and irony at who is at my side. “You’re the last person I want to see right now.” I don’t even look at him as I jerk my hand away. I sit back down on the ground, landing harder on my ass than I meant to, while running a hand through my dark locks. I hate to be one that gives up, but … if he’s found me when I can’t even find my way out, what’s the point?

He huffs. “Too bad. I don’t like crying girls ...” I hear him chuckle, “most of the time.”

I wipe at my eyes, probably smudging what’s left of my mascara. “Go away.”

He squats down beside me and I stare at his knees. “Don’t be stupid, Kitten. I’m probably the safest person you can be with considering your options here.”

I look up at him and I see his full face for the first time. A strong jaw, eyes the color of moss, with his dark hair pulled up high on the top of his head. He’s handsome, just as I knew he would be. The skull mask rests along his neck, and there’s no gleam of mischief in his eyes. In fact, he looks tired.

“Why do you care?” I ask.

“I don’t,” he hesitates. “But I have a job to do.”

I shake my head, the motion making me dizzy again. “You’re lying ... otherwise ... you wouldn’t have left the knife.”

He doesn’t answer but his hand comes up, awkward and hesitant, to brush the sweat-damp hair from my face. The movement is so gentle I flinch, it’s not at all what I expected from him, but he doesn’t pull back. “Don’t become one of them.”

“One of who?”

He looks away, eyes fixing on a pair of broken lanterns I’m just now noticing. “The ones who get broken.” Kenan rocks back on his heels. “Want a cigarette?”

I shake my head at first, then nod. I’m obviously about to die anyway, what’s a little nicotine?

He produces a pack from somewhere in his jacket, lights one, and hands it to me. I take a shaky drag, the smoke burning all the way down.

“Are you one of the ones who were broken?”

He takes a long drag from his own, tilting his head to look down at me. “Something like that.”

I take another hit when Kenan growls softly under his breath, inhaling a harsh breath of smoke before throwing the cigarette down on the ground. “Don’t do that spooky shit. She’s already scared.” I think he’s speaking into the darkness at first, and now I’m wondering if hearing voices might be a common thing here.

“She should be.” Tobias’s voice comes like velvet from the night. The Illusionist materializes from nothing, standing beside me, his blue coat still clinging to him just like the paint he wears. He stares at me as if I’m a card trick gone wrong. “I told you not to go in, didn’t I? Was something I said not adequate for your understanding?”

“I tried to leave.” I tell him, standing up, feeling suddenly on guard.

“But she was a little tied up.” Kenan says, his eyes cutting to Tobias. “As you know she was.”