Page 40 of Her Wicked Knights (Their Hallowed Queen #3)

Rev

I'm about to be a killer. I am already, sure, but tonight will be different.

My previous victim wasn't really my fault; I know that.

She was dead before I even participated, and I only acted as a result of Whit messing around in my brain, pulling strings and pressing buttons like I was a damn toy for him to play with.

But tonight? Tonight, we will actively participate, freely participate, in the murder of Audrey Graves.

It's fucked, and yet, I think I am not as torn up as I should be.

I'm not as devastated as I was last time.

After tonight, this will all be over. The bullshit that we've stood by, helpless to witness for the last few months, will be over, and we can move on.

Marley will be safe, and the magic that Whit so desperately covets will be ours. Marley will be ours.

It's hard to focus on anything all day, and by the time I pick Tripp up, I am more resigned than afraid.

What will be, will be. Given a choice between Marley and Audrey, I will choose Marley.

Every one of us will, and if that makes us wrong or wicked, then so fucking be it.

I'll be the villain in someone else's story if it keeps Marley alive.

And if it allows her to be mine, ours, then all the better.

Tripp doesn't speak when he slinks into the passenger seat, just greets me with a nod of his head and reaches for the knob on the dashboard to turn the volume up.

We ride most of the way to the theme park without speaking, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I cut glances at him from the corner of my eye, wondering if he's as unfazed as he seems to be under that cool demeanor.

Shortly after Coheed and Cambria's Welcome Home starts playing, I feel his eyes on me.

"What?" I demand, suddenly acutely aware of how I've been drumming against the steering wheel in an effort to contain the nervous energy simmering beneath the surface.

"The song?" He laughs. "So retro."

"Fuck off." I laugh, shoving his arm to push him away from me just the slightest bit. I'm not going to dare tell him that I have been carefully curating this playlist over the last few weeks, going down the rabbit hole of early 2000's music because it just hits different.

"I'm not complaining, for the record." Tripp raises his hands in surrender. "It's just funny."

"Well, it's emo metalcore or the soundtrack to The Greatest Showman, so pick your poison."

"Tough call." He smirks. "Maybe we save the soundtrack for the ride home?"

"What is our life about to look like?" I ask, letting the words slip past my tongue before I can stop them.

It's a stupid thing to ask because he won't know any more than I will.

At some point, we have to fill Marley in on everything we know, everything she doesn't, and I am not looking forward to the devastation I expect it to cause her.

She's suffered so much, and there's still just a little more for her to endure before it will all be over.

"I don't know." Tripp answers honestly. "But I hope it's good."

I snort, because it's the bare minimum, and Tripp asking for the bare minimum is funny in a sad sort of way. "Do you hope it's... magical?"

There's a moment where he just stares at me, leaving me to wonder if my joke was too corny, before he cracks. And I mean, literally, cracks.

Once he starts laughing, he doesn't stop, and I know it was a ridiculous pun so it's not like he can't help it. Instead, it just seems like everything is spilling out all at once—anxiety and anticipation and hope and fear and joy because what he wants, what we all want, is just within reach.

His laughter tapers off as the sign for Terror Nights comes into view and the reality of what we are doing permeates the air between us.

Whit got us work badges, so I follow the arrow for the employee parking garage, gather my bag, and lock the doors, trying to convince myself that this is the way things have to be.

Tripp leads us to the security window, where an elderly man is sitting scanning badges.

I expect when he takes ours that they'll somehow trigger an alarm and lockdown, but as I hold my breath, he motions for me to walk through the metal detector.

His companion pokes around in my bag with some kind of baton, not even batting an eyelash at the costume in there.

But I suppose they're used to this: every year, the park goes all out on Halloween: decor, themes, haunted houses.

I've never been to this kind of thing, but I've heard about it.

Turns out, hearing about it pales in comparison to living it.

When the employees wave us through, Tripp guides me toward a short tunnel that spits us out at the front of the park, where people move in every direction, skipping, walking, vibrating with excitement for a day at the park and the horrors they're about to experience.

As an adrenaline junkie of sorts, I'm surprised I've never bothered to come to one of these things; there seems to be no shortage of thrills to be had.

The sun is still high in the sky, and it already feels like I'm standing with my toes over a cliff.

"Think we're a little early." Tripp says.

His voice sounds far away, so I turn to realize that he's walked ahead of me. I didn't realize I'd stopped to take it all in, but he did. He's watching me with an arched eyebrow and a smirk. "You good?"

"I'm... excited?" I laugh. "Overwhelmed may be the better word choice."

"Overwhelmed?" Tripp's eyes narrow. "You're Rev. You don't get overwhelmed. But there are a lot of people here tonight."

The people are the least of my concern, and Tripp must realize that when he tracks my eyesight to the roller coaster that stretches into the sky. We're too far away to see much, but I hear the rush and distant sound of excited screaming as they crest the top of the track.

Understanding seems to take over. "Have you not been here before?"

"Nope." I laugh. "And now I'm thinking that's a tragedy."

"It is a tragedy!" Tripp agrees. "I mean, how? Everyone brings their kid here at least once, right?"

When I say nothing, he realizes his mistake. My father is not the sort of person who worried about giving me normal childhood experiences.

"Forget it. You're here now, and we have time. What's your vibe? The roller coaster? The wheel? There's a water ride I always liked if you're okay with getting wet?"

I turn to him, surprised at the suggestions. "We have time to enjoy ourselves before we commit murder?"

Tripp's eyes widen in horror as he glances around, looking to see if anyone caught onto that.

But we're posing as scare actors for the haunted houses tonight, so it's not like what I just said is really that crazy.

Nobody has even so much as looked our way; they're all too glued behind their phone, taking videos or pictures or making plans for what rides they're going to first.

"We have time before we have to work." He says, putting extra emphasis on the word 'work'. "Terror Nights doesn't start for another two hours. With the employee pass, we can easily get through half the rides by then and then come back another time for the rest. So, what's first?"

I turn my eyes over the park, appraising the options. I want to do everything. I want to spend the entire day and night here riding thrill rides and eating whatever the fuck that is that smells so delicious.

"Roller coaster." I grin, excited by the prospect of going on my first one.

Tripp gestures ahead of us. "Lead the way."

I'm too busy soaking in the excitement to realize that Tripp is pale as a fucking ghost until after the ride attendant pushes down on our overhead restraints and I turn to grin at him. He's gripping the metal handlebars so hard, I think his bones may snap off in a second.

We're situated in the front row, and I've been staring straight ahead at the track we're going to climb before the drop, but now panic creeps in.

"What's wrong?"

Tripp says nothing, shaking his head the slightest bit, and I think he may be trying to keep himself from getting sick.

"Are you not feeling well? Should we get off and come back later?"

"No." He shakes his head again, just the smallest bit, and then musters up a small smile. "It's okay. I'll be okay."

Realization hits me slow, but then there's a hissing noise and the roller coaster car we're in begins to move and he yelps before pressing his lips together like they've betrayed him.

"You're scared?" I ask loudly enough to be heard over the clicking as the track sends us higher and higher, making the people below us look like tiny little ants. He doesn't answer me, but he doesn’t need to. It's not really a question. "Have you ridden this before?"

"Yes." He nods but doesn't open his eyes to look at me.

And I can't console him, because we ascend to the top of the track, and the drop is fucking steep.

I'm looking at nothing straight before me- a blue sky, cloudless and breezy, and then the car rotates ever so slightly, pointing us straight toward the ground.

My heart lurches inside my chest a second before the ground rushes up to meet us. The car drops, and it fucking races toward the ground, toward the yellow track that's laid out before us like a marble run, with loops and curves and dips and inclines.

The further we get, the more speed we seem to pick up, which is great, because we need it to propel us through the loop.

I glance at Tripp when we're upside down, finding him with his lips still pressed together, his hair obscuring his face in the nanosecond where we stay upside down before it pushes us through into the next curve.

There's screaming and laughing all around us, and honestly, I'm not sure which of them is coming from me. I just know that I've never felt more alive than I do right now, right here.

I'm disappointed when we begin to slow, preparing to slide into the station, but I get a chance to check on Tripp and find him with his eyes open now, relief obvious on his face.