Page 50 of Carnival Shadows

“Watch it,” I warn. The rage has subsided, leaving behind its familiar dull ache.

“Hey, at least you found someone who appreciates your particular brand of crazy.”

“Just like you pursued Alice, and somehow she has accepted your unhinged ass?”

I watch Lars’s face soften as I mention Alice.

“It’s different when you find that one person who fits,” he says, a rare smile crossing his features. “Alice gets me. All of me. Even the parts I tried to hide.”

The tenderness in his voice catches me off guard. Lars, usually reserved and calculated, transforms when he talks about her. His shoulders relax, the ever-present tension melting away.

“She doesn’t try to change me,” he continues, adjusting a bolt on the wheel. “Just accepts who I am and makes me want to be better without forcing it.”

I think about Eden, how she doesn’t flinch from my twisted side but embraces it. How she sees the monster inside me and wants more, not less.

“Never thought I’d find someone like that,” Lars admits. “Someone who makes the chaos in my head quiet down.”

The words hit closer to home than I’d like to admit. Eden has the same effect on me, not taming my violent urges but understanding them and accepting them. She makes them feel less like a curse and more like a shared secret.

“Alice grounds me,” Lars says, his voice low and intimate. “Makes everything make sense.”

I nod. Some people just fit, like missing pieces we never knew we were looking for.

25

EDEN

Inotice the police cruiser pulling up to the carnival entrance. Two officers step out, their eyes scanning the grounds with purpose. I recognize that look—they’re here with questions.

“Ms. Love?” One of them approaches me. “We received some concerning tips about your safety during your investigation here.”

I maintain my professional demeanor, the same one I use for my podcast. “Officers, what’s this about? Is something wrong?”

Movement catches my eye as Remy approaches. His presence is commanding even from a distance. He reaches us, standing close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him.

“Everything alright here?” His voice carries that subtle edge of authority.

“These officers were following up on some concerns about my safety,” I explain, turning to face the officers again. “I appreciate the check-in, but I can assure you I’m perfectly fine. I’m still working on gathering material for my next podcast episode about carnival culture and community.”

The older officer studies me. “You’re certain there’s no trouble, Ms. Love? The tips we received were pretty specific about potential dangers.”

“I appreciate the concern,” I say, letting my podcaster voice shine through—calm, controlled, professional. “But I’m a thorough investigator. I always ensure my safety while pursuing stories. The carnival has been nothing but accommodating for my research.”

Remy’s presence beside me adds weight to my words. The officers exchange glances, clearly weighing my response against their intel.

I feel my pulse quicken but maintain my composure as the older officer pulls out his notepad. “We’ve tracked multiple disappearances along the carnival’s route over the past year. Too many to be a coincidence.”

Remy shifts beside me as two officers approach his trailer. I recognize the stance it’s casual but ready.

“Mind if we take a look around?” The younger officer gestures at the trailer.

“Got a warrant?” Remy’s voice is neutral, polite but firm.

“Not at the moment,” the older officer says, “but that can be arranged.”

I keep quiet, my mind racing to Jessica, my producer. She’s been blowing up my phone lately, concerned about my “unhealthy obsession” with the carnival story. Last week, she threatened to report me missing if I didn’t “come to my senses.” Knowing Jessica, she’s probably been hounding the local PD.

“Feel free to come back when you have one,” Remy says, maintaining his composure.

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