Page 164 of Priest and his Anarchist

My brain hasn’t allowed me to fully immerse myself yet. Probably out of self-preservation since the hidden man standing in front of me yields a damn machete. “Where’s Madison?”

The holster on my thigh tightens, and when I go to take yet another step, I’m backed into a corner.

Fuck.

He pauses in front, stepping into the dim light of what’s drifting down the hallway. “You really don’t remember, do you?” His head bends, and the ends of his hair touch the top of his shoulders. His mouth opens, lifting his head and—my blood turns cold.How could you.

Corbin smiles. “Fascinating. Utterly fascinating that the monster ensured he never feasted on…well…you.”

“Where’s Madison?” I repeat, ignoring his stab at Priest. Little does he know the monster does feast on me.

Often.

In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m his favorite meal.

“Does he know what I know? What we know?”

“Madison Hayes….” I don’t realize one of his hands is hidden behind his back until he flips a familiar black top hat in the palm of his hand, shifting it to his head. “Oh, this will earn me points.” Did Darling know his name? Why is he so different? It’s definitely him, the same scar marred over his brow. Has he always been this crazy?

He flips the machete around, and I do a double take. Now the metal is replaced with a black slick cane. “Riddle me this, Little Luna Nox Re?—”

“Hayes,” I correct. I don’t think I care whether he knows.

He flies forward, shoving me against the concrete wall so hard my head cracks and stars explode behind my eyes. “You ever speak that name in front of me again, and I’ll kill everyone, Luna. Little, tiny Luna…he was your master, you were his toy, his pet, and you liked it, didn’t you?” His breath sticks to my skin like nicotine. “Admit it.” His mouth hovers close to mine. Memories of us when we were kids are too much to touch right now. Had he always been this ugly, and I was misguided? When I came back from Del Morts, I noticed the shift of my feelings for him. Saw a smidge beneath the surface, but this…

I keep my eyes on his, my fingers itching up my thigh. “I did.”

“Even though he was cruel? Even though he made you do bad things to dying people? Even though you watched him touch the decaying limbs of ex-lovers? Even when he said he hated you and wanted you dead?”

“Even then,” I whisper, leaning farther into him. My fingers tighten around the throwing star.

“Now, now, I wouldn’t do that, little Luna, because here’s the thing. Would you like to hear it?”

My fingers don’t move from my weapon. “Sure,” I answer sweetly, keeping my breathing steady and my eyes down the bridge of my nose on him.

“Bring her in!” His eyes widen on me to match his smirk. “First thing you need to know, is—” He pauses, stepping back finally with his arms spreading wide. “Welcome to Midnight Mayhem. We are not a circus, we are not a carnival, and the only thing you should be afraid of losing tonight?”

The room melts around me, and my hand drops from the star around my thigh when I finally force my eyes away from the maniac. Glass walls encase the full circle we’re standing on, and I stare out at the audience below. Rows of seats back upward into the dark corners of the space.

“Is your life.”

“Sound of Madness” by Sundown starts pounding around us and I finally look at who’s being dragged through the only exit in the room. A young guy around my age walks through shirtless, blood splatters all over his chest and his face painted in the iconic Midnight Mayhem clown paint. That isn’t what stops me. It’s the distance in his eyes, how they peer through me. Familiar. His face paint materializes into a black mask, a suit, Riverside Elite and the gala. I squeeze my eyes to shake off the vision.

Fuck—I do have a concussion.

Matted hair with dried blood, her head bowed between her shoulders. If it wasn’t for the blinging twenty-million-dollar diamond on her finger, I wouldn’t recognize her. I rush forward, catching her body when he tosses her as if she’s a piece of meat. I move her hair out of her face, my fingers tangling in her knots.

“Shhh…god, please still be alive.” I rest my head below her nose. Nothing.

Nothing.

My throat swells and the realization of her really being dead crawls over my skin like a disease.No. No. You can’t.

Hot air evaporates over my cheek once.

I stop.

Seconds pass before it happens again. Twice.

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