Page 78 of The Circus

“Tell her I’m just biding my time.”

He smirks. “Of course.”

Ripping through the thick paper, a book with a bubbling cauldron on the front comes into view, the title statingWitchcraft for Dummies. I can’t help but smirk at her twisted sense of humor. “This will come in handy,” I say, wagging the book at him. He laughs.

“Just hex Brant for me, will ya? Give him crabs or some shit.”

I release a laugh that only Cash can invoke, pop the handle, and step into the haunting woods.

FORTY-FIVE

EDEN

The woods surrounding St.Ignatius are as much home to me as the building itself. The familiarity of the eyes roving my skin doesn’t send a chill down my spine anymore as it used to. Now, it simply feels like a soft greeting after being gone for the day. With each step I crunch over twigs and gravel, my heart releases more tension. We’re safe out here, me, Teddy, and the dead who fought for peace.

But then something sinister makes its presence known. Something acrid on my tongue, something vile, yet something that makes my heart race in terrible excitement. I know each of the spirits here, and only a few are as evil in death as they were in life. It’s my belief that in order to survive, to remain here wavering between planes, that they need their own poison to keep them strong, to give them energy.

Which is why I pause in the middle of the road, the fog swirling before me and obscuring my view for a moment. Through the dimly lit forest, a tall, dark figure stands in my path. I swallow hard, my knees trembling, my tongue shriveling up like a carcass in the desert. The silhouette of an ax slung over his shoulder sends a shiver down my spine.

A breeze from nowhere and everywhere all at once stirs the forest into a flurry of life; rattling leaves, tittering birds taking flight, boughs slipping across one another in the canopy above. A predator is near.

And he smiles.

“So what’s with the ax?”I tease, glancing up at Teddy’s chiseled jaw as we amble along the road. The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk, and his eyes narrow in mischievousness. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. There’s still so much at stake, even without my father here. Cash could be implicated in what sounds like dozens of murders. Teddy could end up frying in an electric chair.

I’d gladly throw myself on that proverbial funeral pyre if it ever happened.

But even with all the threats circling us in the darkness, something tells me everything will be okay, in the end. At least, I really fucking hope so.

“For my baby to practice her wood chopping skills,” he jests back. I snort and roll my eyes, kicking a rock out of my way.

“Why? Are we going camping or something?”

He bursts forth with his deep laughter, throat bobbing and face thrown with abandon to the sky. My heart clenches at the sight, reaching to be as near his as possible. Almost as though I can’t take a full breath until we’re in one another’s arms, the pull his gravity has on me stronger than every celestial body in the universe.

“No offense, little ghost, but camping doesn’t seem your speed.”

“We camped in the hospital,” I retort. His eyes cut to me sideways, snapping to me so quickly it’s unearthly. He hasn’t spoken much since we met on the road, and there’s an undeniable energy surrounding him right now. Not quite the evil that preceded him, but something akin to it. Something insanely strong yet giddy and sinister.

“And we will again tonight.”

“So what’s the damn ax for?” I hiss, becoming nervous. I’ve never been a fan of surprises. The one time my mother had a surprise for me, it was the introduction to my abuser. I try not to let that memory dampen my mood.

He quirks his arched brow at me, forever smirking.

“Nervous?”

I answer him with a frown. He strides ahead of me and turns on his heel, halting me in my tracks as he swings the ax down and leans his weight on the smooth handle.

“Before we go any further, I need you to wear something for me.”

His eyes are still alight with mischief, though now that familiar, consuming lust blots out his beautiful irises until only a thin rim remains around the depthless black of his pupils. Crossing my arms, I raise my own brow and purse my lips.

“Wear what?”

Shit-eating-grin stretching his lips, he reaches into his back pocket and produces a black, lacy thong. It dangles innocently from his long, crooked finger, and my cunt clenches.

“I’ll reward your obedience,” he says, voice lowering at the end, eyes sparking and shoulders tensing. He’s coiled like a snake about to strike out, and I’m not quite sure who he intends to sink his teeth into.

---