Page 16

Aurelia

When I finally get out of the Hollows' trailer, I dash across the gravel, my mind racing over where to go. Where he won’t find me—at least, not easily. I’m almost certain he’ll head straight for my trailer first.

I veer toward the circus, glancing over my shoulder, heart hammering, half-expecting to see him already closing in. There’s no way he’s not coming after me. I saw it in his eyes. I keep pushing too far.

Goddamn it, Aurelia. Why can’t you just shut the fuck up and stop provoking that fucking psycho?

After getting around the corner, I duck into the shadows, peering out from behind the red and white fabric whipping in the wind. My eyes lock onto the trailer, waiting, heart pounding.

Then—

He finally steps outside. He pauses, those glowing red eyes scanning the area like a killer scenting blood. He’s still shirtless. Still barefoot. Still fucking unhinged.

I see the glint of a chain wrapped around one of his arms, coiled around it tightly. The other barbwire.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

My chest squeezes tight as his gaze suddenly snaps straight toward me. Like he sees right through the fucking fabric and straight into my soul.

I stop breathing altogether, my hands gripping his gun with both hands.

How the fuck...

Theres no time to think. I spin around, sprinting along the side of the circus until I hit the edge of the carnival grounds.

It’s dead quiet, and darkness bleeds over everything, coating the usually vibrantly colored rides and booths in a haunting glow.

I push forward, not caring where I end up, just needing tomove . I haven’t been here yet and haven’t explored what horrors might be lurking ahead. But there has to be somewhere I can hide. Somewhere he won’t find me.

I tear deeper into the carnival, boots hammering against the cracked tarmac, every cold breath scraping my throat raw.

The Haunted Carousel rises to my left, its skeletal horses locked mid-prance, their bony jaws open in silent screams. The carousel is motionless, but the way the wind rattles its chains and stirs the hanging, rotted banners makes it look like it could lurch to life any second.

I push forward, heart pounding, adrenaline burning through my veins. A cracked glass sign is overhead a looming, dark, but see-through amusement. The Glass Maze . I glimpse my reflection as I pass, warped versions of myself sprinting and distorted.

Past the maze, the rusted tracks of The Slicer rollercoaster loom high into the sky, cutting across the clouds like jagged blades. Its cars hang limp on the tracks, swaying slightly in the wind, groaning on their hinges like the carnival itself is moaning in its sleep.

The Terror Wheel towers dead ahead, its outline a monstrous, withered ring against the stars. Empty seats dangle in the breeze, creaking like coffins on rusted chains.

The whole place hums faintly under the silence, like it’s waiting and watching it’s next victim. I don’t even look behind me. Iknowhe’s somewhere.

I veer deeper into the carnival, further from the safety of the main paths, swallowed by towering games and rotting food stands. The smell of stale sugar and rust clogs the air, thick enough to choke me.

Then ahead, something suddenly flickers to life, and I skid to a stop, boots sliding across the cracked ground.

Tucked between two sagging booths, a lone, wooden machine stands, its glass front glowing weakly, almost pulsing like a heartbeat. Inside it, a doll-like figure sits frozen, its dead eyes staring straight through me.

A shudder slices through my spine. It feels like it’scallingto me, pulling invisible strings around my ribs, yanking me closer.

I throw a quick glance over my shoulder, realizing there’s no sign of him yet. No flash of those blood-red eyes cutting through the dark.

When I refocus, I look ahead, unable to stop my legs from moving toward it, slow and cautious.

The first thing I notice is the figure inside: A woman with pale, waxy skin and black hair twisted into a tight bun, her stiff hands hovering over a crystal ball.

Her features are faded and cracked, as if the entire thing is stuck in a time that’s long gone. And her clothes, they’re eerily similar to Madame’s. The red dress. The gold embroidery.

“Step closer, dear child, if you dare… but know this—some who seek their fortune never return.” A slow, bone-dry voice spills, her words stuttering like a broken record.

My gaze flicks upward, drawn to the name above the glass, the old paint peeling and worn:

Ezmeralda’s Unfortunate Fortune’s

I inch closer until I stop in front of it, eyes darting between the lit-up buttons on the front panel.

Yes.

No.

Choose Your Fate.

I shouldn’t touch it. Every part of me knows that. But my fingers lift anyway, trembling, and I jab the Choose Your Fate button.

The doll jerks violently, her head snapping upright with a sick crack of her neck joint.

“The spirits are laughing… they love a soul that doesn’t know it’s already lost.” She say’s followed by an evil cackle causing me to frown.

The crystal ball flares a deathly red before there’s anotherclick and the buttons flash again.

I hover over Yes this time and press it.

“Your future is fogged with screams... but not all of them will be yours.”

I recoil a step, pulse hammering, sweat slick on my palms despite the freezing air.

I press No , desperate for some kind of answer that makes sense.

The doll shudders, her head tilting so sharply it nearly snaps off. A low, wet grinding noise fills the machine as she croaks:

“You were marked the second you breathed in his name.”

“Useless thing,” I mutter under my breath, jaw tense, before smacking down on Yes.

“You’ve awakened what shouldn’t be disturbed and it's watching your every move.”

I slap the side of the machine hard, making it rattle on its metal base and suddenly there’s a loudclunk, a grimy slot at the bottom coughing out a small, red and gold card.

“Your fate is already set... and it’s breathing down your neck.”

The fortune teller declares without me even pressing any buttons.

I snatch the card between my fingers, reading across it and in gold, bold letters there’s a single word engraved:

RUN!

I stare at it, chest seizing up, and then I hear it.

The soft crunch of gravel under bare feet from behind.

I spin on my heel, dropping the card, and stiffen as soon as I catch his red, spiraling eyes some distance away, his towering silhouette standing ominously in the shadows.

I jerk the gun up, both hands trembling so violently I can barely keep it still, but I have it aimed right at him, right at the center of that broad, heaving chest.

Everything between us feels electric, thick with something hot and wild. He just stands there, soaked in the moonlight, like he’s savoring the fear pouring out of me.

He ain’t getting me this easily. He’s gonna have to work hard for his fucking food. I might not be able to outrun death, but I sure as fuck will toy with it, turning the chase into a game where I make the goddamn rules.

Without warning, I sprint to the right, shapes of amusements streaking past me, shadows clawing at the corners of my vision. I push harder until a rusted sign on a post appears ahead, nailed between two paths.

Right: Tunnel of Blood

Left: Steel Casket

I falter for half a second, glancing between the two, then over my shoulder. I spot him turning the corner like a demon rising from hell, his red, spiraling eyes locked onto me.

He walks calmly like he has all the time in the world and my lungs seize as I make the split-second decision, launching down the right path and disappear into the dark mouth of the Tunnel of Blood.

As I race down the tight, winding corridor, lights blast to life above me in a sudden jolt, flooding everything in a suffocating shade of red. I stagger as I slow my steps, trying to catch a breath.

The space around me pulses while black, jagged spikes jutting from the low ceiling like teeth. The walls have panes of fogged glass, red liquid gushing downward behind them. The floor beneath me is glass too, cracked in places and beneath it is red… liquid.

I step cautiously, legs trembling with the illusion that I might fall through. The deeper I get inside, the louder the sound of water gets.

The corridor twists one last time before spitting me out into a much wider space. A spiked barrier coils along the edge, barbed wire curling at the top.

Beyond it is a thick, crimson river flowing, slow and steady, disappearing into an open tunnel. Above the arch, flickering with dying bulbs, a warped sign buzzes:

Tunnel of Blood

It’s bizarrely mocking that tunnel of love crap from old movies, where couples kiss under pretty pink lights and fucking fairy music. This is it’s bastard cousin. A river that looks like it’s carrying guts. A horrifying place where love goes to rot.

Then a black boat drifts out from the other side of the tunnel, but I suddenly hear footsteps, and my head whips around. Wrath’s there, emerging from the corridor like a fucking ghost.

I sprint for the barrier, and as soon as I grab it, pain screams up my arms, barbs digging into my skin. But I don’t stop. I chuck the gun into the boat before launching myself over the wire and spikes.

He’s getting closer and faster now, like a damn animal tasting blood. As soon as his shadow stretches over me, his hand grazing my hair, I jump.

My body crashes into the boat and it rocks hard, but I stay crouching, chest heaving, while the current takes me, pulling me toward the tunnel.

I lift my head, swatting my hair away to see him standing behind the barrier, breathing hard, staring, his red eyes blazing. There’s no expression on his face. Just that bottomless, fucked-up hunger.

A cruel smirk spreads across my lips and just as I’m being swallowed whole by darkness, I flip him off in one last attempt to piss him off.

The moment the boat slips into the mouth of the tunnel, everything changes. It turns thick and humid, clinging to my skin.

The boat jerks suddenly, gliding forward on sluggish, churning crimson water and the scent hits harder now. Iron and decay. It burns the inside of my nose and my stomach knots.

Then there’s a sound, a mechanicalclangoverhead. I look up just in time to see a long, black spike slam down from the ceiling. It misses me by mere inches, burying itself just beside my shoulder.

I shriek and drop flat on the floor of the boat, heart in my throat before another spike slams down, then another. There’s no rhythm or warning, just violence. Pure, fucking violence. The boat rocks harder, tipping left, then right and I clutch the wood until my fingers ache.

Just as I feel it’s safe to lift my head but as soon as I do, I hear a metallic grind, followed by a shriek. In the walls on both sides of me, panels slide open to reveal spinning saw blades, huge and jagged, glowing red at the edges.

They roar to life, rotating wildly and sparks fly as they scrape the stone just inches from the boat’s edge. I press myself flat again, flinching every time the blades howl past.

When the saws stop, the boat suddenly lurches, caught in a sharper current and I’m forced to slide halfway out, one leg dipping into the warm, thick water.

Panic claws up my throat as I scramble to pull myself back in, my body slamming against the inside edge with a grunt just as the boat rights itself again.

Everything is shaking and the lights flash faster, but I still notice odd shapes hanging from the ceiling up ahead.

“What the fuck is that…” I whisper to myself.

At first, I think they’re decorations. Just props meant to look like guts and organs, but as I drift closer, I realize they’re fucking real. Human intestines, blackened and strung like garlands. Severed arms and legs swing lazily, dripping gore into the blood river below.

As I start to enter the area, one brushes my face and I skreich, instantly wiping the sticky fluid from my cheek before gagging violently.

When it seems I’ve finally got through that section of this horrifying amusement, everything starts to calm down, but I’ve got this bad feeling that was only a run up to the finale, which is terrifying.

I sit up, but as soon as I do, I spot him in the distance.

Wrath.

Standing in a second black boat farther down the tunnel, his silhouette tall and intimidating in the crazed flashing lights. His glowing eyes fix on me, and he doesn’t flinch at the blades, the blood or the horror surrounding us. He belongs in it. He’s part of it. He fucking is it.

The boat jolts again, this time faster, dragged forward by the current and I hear a new sound—water crashing.

My head turns forward hesitantly, and I spot it coming up. A wide, red curtain, gushing down from a jagged hole in the ceiling. I barely have time to brace myself before the blood hits like a wall, slamming down on me with violent force.

It pours over my head, into my mouth and my eyes. It’s warm, almost hot, and thicker than water, almost syrupy. I choke, sputtering, soaked through, the weight of it making the boat sway dangerously.

I crouch, gripping the edge like a lifeline. All around me is fucking chaos, the lights pulse wildly, red and white, red and white, like a heartbeat gone mad. The walls groan and it feels like the tunnelis breathing. Why the fuck did I come in here? Then it reminds me, and I turn my head.

Behind me, I notice Wrath’s boat has somehow gained speed because he’s suddenly closer now. I swallow hard because I know, deep down, this tunnel is nothing compared to what happens if he catchesme.

He won’t care if I’m covered in blood and guts. That monster is going to fucking devour me. And just the thought brings an unexpected, delicious drop in my stomach.

When the tunnel tightens and narrows, walls pressing in, I refocus on the front, and I see them. Mirrors lining both sides, and as I pass them, they don’t show me. Not really. They show versions of me twisted, ruined, bloodied, screaming or being torn apart, and in one... smiling back at me with Wrath’s red eyes.

My chest squeezes tight as I try not to look. But the whispers begin in my ears—low, hissing and garbling versions of my name.

I jerk away, heart hammering, as the water shifts suddenly beneath me, and I hear something brush the bottom of the boat. I freeze when the clawing at the wood starts until without warning, pale grey fingers with bloated knuckles, nails broken or gone entirely, reach out of the bloodied river.

One hooks over the side of the boat, fingers twitching inches from my leg, longing to touch me. I flinch back, holding my breath and blinking hard, unsure if I’m now fucking hallucinating.

But it lets go just as suddenly as it came, vanishing beneath again.

I barely catch my breath before the boat lurches into the next section and here, the walls are wrong. Embedded into them arefleshy and veiny faces. Covering every inch. Eyes shut tight, mouths open in silent agony, like they’ve been frozen mid-scream.

I duck lower, instinct screaming at me to get the fuck out of here.

Then, without warning, they all awaken.

The facesscreechin unison. An eruption of pain and rage, deafening, distorted, and impossible to escape. I clap my hands over my ears, but it doesn’t help, it’sinsidemy fucking skull. The sound shakes the walls and makes the water churn harder. I cry out, nearly tipping over as I curl inward, wishing it would end.

And then, deadly silence.

I lift my head, my entire body trembling as the boat eases into a calmer stretch. My ears are still ringing when I turn around, and there he is.

Suddenly so fucking close he could leap into my boat.

He stands there like a nightmare come to life, blood slicking his skin, his wild eyes locked on mine. Spiraling and wide. He’s body screams he’s ready to lunge and I instinctively reach down, fingers brushing the cold steel of the gun by my feet.

I grab it, clutch it with both hands, rising to my feet even though my legs are swaying beneath me. He’s still, too still, like he’s letting the tension build just so he cansnap. My hands shake harder, but the second he shifts, just slightly, my finger jerks against the trigger without thinking straight.

BANG!

The gun kicks and the sound explodes down the tunnel, bouncing off the blood-slick walls like thunder. Wrath jolts back, a single step, his stare never leaving mine. But then he falls back into the water with a splash.

“WRATH!” I scream as if I didn’t just shoot him my fucking self, stumbling forward, heart punching through my ribs.

I drop to my knees at the edge of the boat, eyes scanning the surface, but the river’s too thick and dark, it’s just endless ripples and red.

“Wrath…” I whisper, tears filling my eyes as I reach into the water, waving my hand beneath the surface, desperate to feel him.

“Shit, what have I done?”

My watery gaze flicks right, locking on to a clearing coming into view. A large area with chains dangling from the ceiling and piled in thick knots across the floor like sleeping snakes. It looks big enough to climb onto, and I don’t hesitate. I throw the gun up first, then brace to leap across.

But before I can move, something wraps around my wrist from under the water and a startled gasp rips out of me, then I’m yanked, hard.

My scream cuts short as I’m pulled clean out of the boat and slammed into the water, lungs filling with panic, my body tumbling into the depths in a blur of bubbles and blood.

Pieces of sharp metal slash at my skin like shrapnel, and severed body parts slam into me with force as darkness collapses around me, my limbs flail wildly. The current grabs me by the waist like claws, dragging me deeper, spinning me in its chokehold.

I twist and kick until finally I break the surface.

I come up gasping and coughing violently, the taste of iron coating my tongue. The boat’s gone and there’s nothing but this hell river and the strong current pulling me toward an edge, toward a fucking drop into a void.

“No…no, fuck…”

I try to swim, my limbs screaming, my soaked clothes weighing me down. The water pulls harder, dragging me with it, but I fight it with everything I have, my vision darkening at the edges. I’m not strong enough. I’m not fast enough.

Then my hand catches on something cold, hard and heavy under water, bolted to the wall. I latch on, wrapping both hands around the thick chain, clutching it tighter, and slowly start to pull.

With teeth gritted, I shift my weight, hauling myself sideways until I can slam one arm onto the ledge. My fingers scramble over the floor for something to anchor myself with until I find another chain and use it to drag my torso up.

I give one final grunt until my body fully is flat on the hard surface. I collapse on my front, breathing heavily, my blood mixing with water as it drips from my arms and the gashes in my skin.

With trembling and weak limbs I push myself up, desperate to find Wrath, to make sure I haven’t gone and killed him.

But as soon as I lift my head, two feet step into view. Right in front of me. I pause, watching blood dripping steadily from above, landing in wet splats beside them.

Every part of me screams to look up, to face whatever I’ve done to him, but my body won’t obey.

Without warning, something coils around my ankle, thick, cold and metallic.