Page 9 of Hell of a Thing

There had to be something. Anything. The ceiling lowered enough that the hot dog guy had to crouch in his massive costume, his bun nearly folded in half like a squashed hot dog a kid accidentally sat on. My breaths came in quick angry bursts as I struggled to feel along the wall and keep myself away from the others lest I fall and be trampled again.

There had to be something.

Anything.

More people crouched as the wall lowered. I kicked off my stilettos, embracing my natural stature.

Thank fuck I was short. It wasn’t always my favorite thing, but just then, I praised whatever higher power had set my height at five foot three.

A groove met my questing fingers, and I paused, peering more closely to find a switch set into the wall. It was nearly flush with the plaster making it impossible to see. With nothing to lose, I pressed it.

With a click, the ceiling stopped its descent and the wall where a door should be slid upward, revealing nothing but darkness beyond. A celebratory chime rang out as if we’d been playing a game and not almost being crushed by the ceiling. People began to file through the exit and relief poured over me like a bucket of cold water, leaving me exhausted. I slouched against the wall. The crowd of party goers continued to push their way through, heedless of the potential danger despite the horrific death of one of their own. Some animal instinct drove them into the pitch darkness—a preference for the unknown over the sure danger of the room with its crushing ceiling and death panel.

Letterman Jacket’s body still quivered, his severed nerves struggling to adjust to their death. A sight which couldn’t be faked.

This place was not here to thrill and delight us.

It was here to kill us.

Reaching down to find my discarded stilettos on the floor, I held them in my palms with the points facing out. Peering around me carefully, I took a cautious step towards the open wall. When the cheerleader didn’t move from the vigilshe’d taken up beside Letterman Jacket’s body, I doubled back, placed both shoes in one hand, and wrapped my arm through hers. “Get up. He wouldn’t want you staying here, right?”

Only after I yanked her to her feet did she shove me off. “Don’t touch me!” Sniffling, she stalked towards the door with me on her heels. She might be a bitch, but my conscience was clear. Once through, we parted ways.

“You killed one?” I didn’t like the puckering on The Devil’s brow. It bespoke of his wrath—the very thing I’d worked so hard to avoid. I had to play this just right.

“Yes, my King. An inferior being and not suitable for your refined palette. One such as him is easily found in any human city, and would be the first at your gates upon his death.” Obsidian eyes shot to mine, and I gulped, fear taking my breath as the anger swirled in their depths.

“You dare presume to tell me what will suit my palette,” he growled as only he could, a sound that shook my bones and made the room around us tremble. I knew those out in the carnival proper would feel it. The power of his anger was primal and a part of every being. It rippled through us like an earthquake.

Heat radiated off his body as one cloven hoof stepped forward, leaving less than an inch between us. Not just heat, but a searing one. My skin started to bubble as it came close to the furnace of his body. Licking my lips, I fought to keep the pain from my voice.

“Please, my King, thekitten. She will be worth all this trouble. There will be some deaths in the process, but I promise, she—I will please you. I swear it on the crimson gates of Galek themselves.”

The Devil reached out to run a black claw across my cheek. The sting of it cutting through the delicate flesh was greater than it should be. His venom took the sensation higher, stinging me even as it cut, but the mention of Galek the destroyer, who’d reinforced the red gates with the bones of Hell’s rebels, calmed him.

“She’d better be.”

The new room was a tiny box barely large enough to accommodate our group. Like the hallway, the room was entirely white, from the ceiling to the floor. My stomach turned, the surrounding white making it hard to tell which way was up. There was no door that I could see. Every inch of the space was illuminated by bright fluorescents overhead. The moment I crossed the threshold, the panel slid shut behind me.

There was no way out.

Fuck. Another dead end?

A petite blonde wearing an angel costume started to cry, sending her tight ringlets bouncing, and my heart clenched. She looked so lost and alone.

“Hey, don’t worry. We’ll get out of here,” I promised. A tear-stained face with wide blue eyes and rosebud lips looked up at me with hope.

“You think so? That boy, he—” With a shudder, the angel wrapped her arms aroundherself, shrinking inward.

“Yeah, he died, but we’re still kicking. Am I right?” Okay, maybe she didn’t need my unfounded enthusiasm right now. Wiping the grin off my face, I awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. So soft, this woman looked like she bathed in buttermilk every night. What had convinced her to come to a carnival such as this? She sniffled pitifully, hugging herself tighter.

“How come you came to The Devil’s Carnival? Nothing good on TV?”

Her brows tilted as she pondered a response. “Honestly, my sister would have wanted to. Our parents were really strict, and she loved to irritate them. After she died, they doubled down on me. I always listen to them, but since I moved in with a couple of roommates, I thought I should start experiencing more, you know? Cutting loose. Then I received that invitation, and it was like it spoke directly to me, talking about leaving the past behind and becoming someone new.” The girl hunched forward and sniffled.

A chill crept up my spine. I was absolutely certain my invitation had said something entirely different from hers, and if it had, what would it mean?

“Anyway, I guess I thought this would be a fun way to remember my sister and try to find myself.” Her voice cracked, tears brimming in her eyes.

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