Page 1 of Carnival

Rose

“Y ou fucked a clown.’’

Aria’s words aren’t judgmental; they’re just filled with disbelief. She blinks, eyes narrowed as she tries to process the information I just threw her way. I don’t blame her, though. It’s not the sanest or smartest thing I’ve ever done.

“Yes,’’ I confirm.

She leans back into the bed’s headpost, arms folded in front of her chest. I’m already squirming in my seat. She’s never taken this long to process a piece of information. Then again, it’s not often that she hears that her best friend lost her virginity to a clown.

“Huh,’’ she straightens up, sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on her knees. “When did this happen?”

“For my eighteenth birthday.’’

“And you’ve waited nearly two years to tell me this – why?”

“Because!” I exclaim, standing up from the chair and pacing around her bedroom. “Damn it, this is getting ridiculous.’’

Aria immediately understands. It’s like the missing piece of the puzzle falls into its place, and her eyes widen, then a laugh of disbelief slips from her lips. She blinks, staring at me, and I do my best to avoid that harsh gaze.

“You fucked a murderer?”

I wince. “I don’t know! Maybe?”

“Did he take off his clown mask while he was fucking you?”

I groan, flopping on her bed, headfirst into the pillow. Aria laughs, then lies down next to me, poking my ribs.

“Come on, now I’ve got to know.’’

I turn my head to the side, looking at her. “No, he didn’t take off his mask.’’

“Are you certain that it’s him?”

For my eighteenth birthday, Aria and I went to and visited the infamous Halloween carnival in New Orleans. The carnival lasts a whole week, with many activities and plenty of haunted houses, terror houses, and everything of the sort.

Being the only daughter of Hudson and Noelle De Santis – people who own one of the biggest criminal organizations in the world – she got us VIP tickets, and we flew there for my birthday weekend, which aligned with Halloween night.

It was one of the best nights of my life.

At some point, we decided to visit the scariest horror house, and we got separated.

Of course, we were drunk beyond belief when we entered it, and I met one of the scary clowns there.

The mask had cracks in it, was covered in fake blood, and had a scary smile.

All I saw were those deep brown eyes that managed to have me lower my panties within ten minutes.

I’m not proud of how I lost my virginity, nor am I proud of how I ran away as soon as it happened.

Nor the fact that I quite literally begged him to fuck me.

The following Monday, the main topic was the murder that took place in the very same house where I’d lost my virginity. The culprit was never caught, and the murders continued until last Halloween. The main difference is that last year, they finally caught a glimpse of the murderer.

It was the very same man I’d slept with.

I can’t prove it. I can’t guarantee that it’s him, but the mask is nearly too similar. Now that I’m thinking about it, the blood seemed almost too realistic. The bastard probably killed someone and then fucked me to relieve his stress.

Halloween is in a week and a half. Which means that he’ll probably strike again.

The only reason I even know this is because every single news reporting channel is telling people to be cautious. The carnival will be filled with police officers, possibly the FBI, too. The man has killed seven people, and no one’s stopped him yet.

There’s a possibility he won’t show up, either, or he’ll just switch the mask so it won’t be suspicious.

Somehow, I don’t believe in that possibility.

Something about that man is so dangerously familiar.

I inspected every picture available on the internet with a fine-tooth comb, and I can guarantee that the clown murderer is the same man I’d slept with.

“Yes, Aria,’’ I take a deep breath. “It’s him.’’

“Okay,’’ she nods. “And we care… why?”

I frown. “I mean, it’s not every day you find out the boy you slept with for the first time is a murderer.’’

“Eh,’’ she shrugs. “Maybe. But you and I help my parents unload their illegal weapons, test them out, and then make sure they’re wiped clean of any fingerprints. Is it really surprising?”

“Well, when you put it like that…’’

“And I still can’t believe you slept with a clown,’’ she laughs. Her laugh is contagious, and as soon as she bursts into a fit of laughter, I follow suit. Aria’s long hair falls down her waist as she props herself up on her elbows and continues to chuckle.

“So,’’ she chuckles once more. “Why have you brought this up? I highly doubt it’s to brag about your first time being with a fucking clown.’’

“I don’t know,’’ I admit, rolling over to lie on my back and staring at the ceiling. “The fact that he is almost definitely the killer makes me feel… I don’t know,’’ a small whine slips from me. “I want to know more.’’

“Alright, Ms. Detective,’’ she mocks. “What’s the plan?”

“I’ll go to New Orleans for carnival week.’’

“Rose, you cannot be serious.’’ She sits up straight. “Who in their right mind would purposely go to the place where they think a murder will happen again?”

“I just… this curiosity in me won’t go away. I’ve spent countless nights just… thinking of this, researching the case.’’

“Great,’’ her tongue drips with sarcasm.

“So what? You go down there, find the man with the same mask– who, mind you, may not be the killer in question– and hit him with the ‘Hey! Sorry. Not sure if you remember me, but two years ago, you banged me in this terror house. So, are you going around killing people?’,’’ she scoffs.

“Do you not understand how utterly ridiculous this sounds?”

“Okay but–’’

“No buts,’’ she cuts off, harshly. “It’s dangerous, Rose. Please tell me this is just a joke and you’re not seriously trying to pursue this lunatic?”

“You make it sound like I’m an obsessed fangirl about to jump his bones.’’

“You do sound like that!” Aria takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. “How about we bring this up to Arlo and Blair? I think that’d be the best thing to do.’’

I scoff. “So you three could gang up on me? No, thanks.’’

Arlo is her older brother, and Blair is Arlo’s girlfriend. I grew up with Arlo and Aria, and Blair came into the picture a while back. Whenever I want to do something like this, they always gang up on me, and my ideas immediately get shut down.

“We’re not ganging up on you; we’re trying to keep you safe, idiot.’’

“It’s a carnival!”

“With dead bodies each year! I’m honestly shocked the carnival’s still a thing, too. What kind of government allows that?”

“Ours, apparently.’’

Aria scoffs and stands up. She walks toward the door, yells out her brother's name, then plops back and sits next to me, a massive grin on her face. I groan, grabbing a pillow and holding it pressed against my face.

“He’s not home, by the way,’’ I mumble under the pillow.

“I know,’’ she laughs. “But seeing your panicked face for a split moment was worth it. But on a serious note, don’t tell me you’re actually going to go down to New Orleans.’’

“Maybe,’’ I mumble and remove the pillow. I sit up, running my fingers through my hair.

“And do what?”

“That’s the thing! I feel… incredibly stupid. I actually had sex with a killer!”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to travel to Orleans to understand that.’’

“I’m not sure why this is bothering me so much.’’

Aria purses her lips briefly, the amusement dropping from her face.

“Maybe… is it because you regret sleeping with him? I mean, you're someone who gets attached easily, so the fact that your first time was a quickie in a terror house with a stranger is weird on its own. Or maybe it’s because you’re… dull.’’

“Excuse me?”

She quickly corrects herself. “Wait, that came out wrong. I mean, your life has no excitement. You’re all studying, baking cookies, and napping. So, you want excitement in your life and you need some sort of adrenaline rush in your life. I’m betting my money this is you just wanting some thrill.’’

“That… sounds weirdly correct,’’ I frown. Even when I can’t put my emotions into words, Aria does it for me. It’s almost creepy how well she knows me, how well she can read me, whereas I can barely read a single emotion off her face.

“Right,’’ she nods. “Then, if you’re so keen on going over there, I’ll come with you.’’

“What?” My brows rise to my hairline, shock evident on my face. “You will? Why?”

“At least one of us knows how to shoot,’’ she snorts. “Think of me as your shadow, alright? I’ll let you do your thing while observing from the shadows.’’

“What if he pulls his gun faster?”

Aria deadpans. “He’s using a butcher knife.’’

I smirk. “Seems like you also did your research on the killings, huh?”

“Obviously,’’ she says matter-of-factly, arms folded in front of her chest. “I’m curious about things like these, so when I saw the media outlets flooded by this news, I, of course, had to investigate myself.’’

“Did you find… anything useful?”

She shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows?’’

“You’re annoying. Just tell me!”

“Alright, alright,’’ she laughs. “We know that all murders happen in that specific terror house, every night of Halloween, sometime between eight and eleven in the evening, right?”

I nod. “Right.’’

“Well, I had a friend look into this through his connections at the police. After the second year, the cops decided that during the third year, they’d send undercover cops into the terror house every night of the carnival.’’

I straighten up, biting the inside of my cheek and absorbing the information. This is something that I wasn’t able to find through the public servers, so I’m keeping my ears perked, listening to every word she speaks.

“They apparently set up hidden cameras; however… they never managed to get a video.’’

A frown covers my face. “How’s that possible?”

“The moment the cameras were set up, they stopped working. Which means they had someone make sure nothing on the inside could be recorded. But that’s not the weirdest part.’’

“Go on.’’

“See, the agents undercover went through the terror house with a fine-tooth comb. They were unable to find a single thing that could prove that a murder had taken place there. No blood, no dead bodies, no nothing that would incriminate the place.’’

“How… bizarre.’’

Aria sighs. “That’s not all. These people… it’s definitely an organization.’’

“I haven’t found anything that indicates that this could be done by multiple people. In fact, they only have one man–well, clown– who they’re suspecting.’’

“Have you looked up the victims?”

I shake my head.

“That’s the odd part. Whoever this is, it’s definitely an organization. Because the victims, although we know who they were from their families, don’t exist on paper.’’

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.’’ She looks me in the eyes, dead serious. “They make their victims disappear. As in, their dental records can’t be found, their DNA isn’t in any databases, their social media was deleted, and even their birth certificates are gone. They make people disappear.’’

Realization dawns on me, and a nasty chill runs down my spine. It takes me a moment to process everything, the cogs starting to turn in my head. Aria is quiet, letting the information sink in for me.

“The…’’ I swallow thickly, then clear my throat. “The only other organization I know capable of doing something like that is your family.’’

She nods. “Do you see where I’m going with this?

I don’t think they’re exactly in the assassination business, but they’re still damn good at whatever they’re doing.

Even Hudson is struggling to track them down, and Noelle is on the verge of going down there, killing all of them, and calling it a day. ’’

I chuckle, but it’s anything but amusement. The thought of her parents being so irritated by this that they’d do something so reckless makes me feel uneasy. If the two of the best assassins of today’s age can’t track these people down, it means they’re good.’’

“Is there a possibility that this could be the mafia?”

Aria shakes her head. “The Bratva is in some sort of a war at the moment, so no, not them. And the Italians have retreated to Sicily; Lord knows why. Besides, I highly doubt a mafia man would dress up as a fucking clown. They’re classier than that.’’

“This whole thing makes no sense.’’ I slump back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“And do you finally understand why I’m against you going down there?”

I sigh but reluctantly nod. “Yeah.’’

A minute of silence passes.

“You’re still going, aren’t you?”

“Yup,’’ I snort.

Aria groans and tosses a pillow at me.