Page 1 of Hell of a Thing

Chapter 1

The most thrilling experience you will find, we offer base jumping from a height of five hundred meters to—

With a roll of my eyes, I stopped reading. Five hundred meters was nothing compared to the base jumping I’d done in Mexico. Too bad money was tight and I couldn’t get back there anytime soon.

Next.

I clicked back through my search results.

Our white water river rafting will—

Willwhat? Bore me to death.

Next.

Hm, bungee jumping in Vegas could be good. Only, I tripped on the words “controlled descent” and slammed my fist down on the rickety desk I’d found at the side of the building after moving day.

The thing almost collapsed under my fist. Whatever. Hobbies like mine were expensive and who cared if my furniture was garbage? You only live once, right? The money I earned from selling photos I took during my escapades covered this way of life, and I was barely home anyway. With a groan, I leaned back, letting the wheels of my chair scrape across the hardwood floor.

There had to be something to do around this small-town layover I was in until I could move back to the city.

An idea came to me, and I jumped up to grab my phone and dial my friend Tom. He was the most likely to go along with my latest plan. I waited patiently as the phone rang, wondering if he was there, frozen in terror at receiving an actual phone call instead of a text. Sure, I could text, but the excitement was buzzing in my ears, and I wanted to actually talk to him.

Tom’s voice clicked onto the line.

“Hey, thanks for calling, but I’ve got bad news for you. I’m out. Leave a message or, better yet, send me a text.” With a long-suffering sigh, I gripped the phone.

“So, I have a new adventure for us this Halloween weekend.” My hand shot up as if I was talking to him in person. “Before you say no, hear me out. We rent some gear and go camping up in Yellowstone. They’ve got cliffs we could dive off of. Maybe we’ll tell some ghost stories around the campfire.” I paused. “Plus, you owe me for introducing you to Carly.” I was just about to further the guilt trip and secure my victory when a ruffling sound at the door to my apartment caught my attention. Squinting, I took the two steps to the door and stared in surprise at what appeared to be a crisp, yellow envelope.

What in the world?The words “You’re invited” were printed in bold sweeping pen strokes, the calligraphy clearly done by a professional, and I flipped it over to find a red wax seal with a devil head, complete with large black horns, pressed into it.

Intrigued, I ran a finger over the bumps and ridges cut into the wax. But my hand shot back in surprise when I realized the wax was still somehow warm.

Weird. Carefully opening the envelope, I pulled a piece of paper out and found a centered poem written in the same gorgeous calligraphy.

The Devil’s Carnival has come to town.

Don’t be frightened, come on down.

Life is such a fickle thing.

A glass of wine,

A bit of fun

Before the bell and you’re done.

Come on down this Halloween.

You’ll never forget the sights we bring.

The Devil’s Carnival?I knew there was a carnival in town, but I had no idea they were doing a Halloween thing. Excitement brewed in my chest, and I grabbed the letter, flipping it over to rub my finger along the now cool wax seal.

With a grin, I gripped the letter in one hand and the envelope and phone in the other, marveling at my good luck.

This was just what I needed.

“Tom, I have something even better for us to do.”

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