Chapter 46 Neve
FORTY-SIX
NEVE
“We were actually kind of… together, going to a party in the Beaches as a couple, until a couple of hours ago. She texted me, said she was coming here with someone else, and it was over. I came to talk to her but, you saw how that went. After she let me come inside her last night.” Ace runs his tattooed fingers through his hair as we stand inside the dark foyer of Castle Morack.
He glances at me and winces while Cynthia clears her throat from my side. “Sorry,” he murmurs.
I shrug. “Nope. Don’t be.” I swallow hard and glance at Karter, the four of us waiting now for our turn to enter into the intricately carved black doors ahead of us. We’ve been listening to spooky music and screams for fifteen minutes, but it’s warm in here, and I don’t mind.
Sylvan and Tasia jumped the line, everyone making way for Sylvan Connor like he was the Prince of Halloween himself.
With that blank look in his eyes when he threatened Ace, he might as well have been. But it didn’t stop him from leaving me. With her.
Sure, I ran off from him this morning after he bought me breakfast, but it still felt weird, watching them together.
And why threaten a man, then leave me with him?
Fucking child.
“He must have texted her and she came running,” Cynthia says with contempt in her words. But I know I’m probably no better than Tasia.
“Did you know this was going to happen?” I ask Karter directly. Her complexion is pale. She sure as hell didn’t seem to expect any of what went down, and she shook her head when Tasia tried to get her to leave us and go ahead of the wait with them.
“Nope,” she says, popping the P, her arms crossed and a furrow in her brow. “She wouldn’t come to the game tonight because she didn’t want to see you cheering for him,” she says to me.
Cynthia scoffs. “She’s a bitch.” She glances at Karter. “No offense.”
Karter shrugs. “I mean, yeah, she is, but she seems desperate for Sylvan Connor. She’s always been boy crazy, but this is kind of new for her. It’s like she’s obsessed with getting back at you.” She nods toward me.
“But I didn’t do anything to her. And,” I point out, gesturing toward Ace, who looks heartbroken. “I let her have this fine specimen with no fight.” I put my hand on Ace’s chest as he laughs, and that feels like a victory.
He catches my hand between his fingers and I let him squeeze.
When we drop our arms, we’re still holding onto one another.
But I think of Faust, and I release him.
I haven’t checked my phone since we were standing in the freezing cold and my gloves wouldn’t work well on my screen, and I don’t check it now, but I wonder what Faust Darling is doing on Halloween night since I denied him.
I wonder if I could sleep with him again.
But in my head, I see him on the ice, hitting that guy as hard as he could, then threatening Sylvan a heartbeat later.
Ejected from the game.
Even I know that isn’t common, and it seems like it’s even less so for the captain of the Drayton Dragons.
“She must be going through something,” Karter says under her breath.
“Or,” Cynthia counters, drawing out the word. “She’s just a bitch.” She shrugs and I smile at my best friend, grateful she’s in my corner.
Another scream comes from deep inside the haunt.
“Yeah, well, she needs to be careful,” Ace says. “He seems like a fucking psychopath, and there is a serial killer on the loose.”
Cynthia’s eyes connect with mine and Karter visibly shivers.
I clear my throat. “But they’re not going after women.” I don’t know if I’m reminding Ace or convincing myself.
Ace stares into the darkness ahead. “Not yet,” he mutters.
Before anyone can say anything to that, the doors burst open and a woman in all black with a skeleton mask says, “You’re the next victims.”
When Ace grabs my hand again, this time, I let him.
“Back the fuck up.” I hiss the words as I startle when a scare actor jumps out from the dark, around a turn in the near pitch-black maze of the haunt.
The actor is in my face, his ice-white contacts maddening as he turns his head one way, then the other.
His arms stay by his side and the face paint that makes him look like he’s a hundred years old is too realistic.
Ace pulls me away from him as Cynthia and Karter both scream up ahead.
I cut my eyes their way, blinking in the low, green light that comes from orbs dotted along the floor. It’s freezing cold here, and I don’t know if that’s part of the sensory element or if it’s just because the castle is so damn drafty.
Both my friends are rearing back from a clown who must be at least six foot five, and perversely, I wonder how hot the person is beneath the black and white striped costume.
The clown stares down at my friends with that insane smile on its mask, then turns its gaze to us.
Ace grips me tighter, and I start to think he’s more afraid than I am.
I doubt Sylvan would be scared.
I shove the thought from my mind as Ace and I catch up to Karter and Cynthia.
There’s a wall of black before us, and when I glance down, I see only a marginal space beneath, yawning into a void.
Suddenly, I put the pieces together as Karter bangs on the solid wall to no avail.
“You have to crawl,” the clown hisses, his voice warped and raspy.
Cynthia shakes her head. “Nope. Not doing that.” She glances at us. “I can’t do that.”
I nod once. “Raise your hands.” It was the cue they gave us before we entered.
If we get too scared or don’t want to keep going, we’re to lift both hands in surrender.
I thought it was a way to freak us out and get us psyched to be terrified, but I don’t really blame Cyn, although I’m definitely going.
“Sorry,” she mouths. “I’ll see you in the lounge.” There’s a bar after all of this, and they told us they would escort us there if we didn’t make it through.
I nod once, and the clown laughs at Cynthia, but gestures toward the old man behind us, heading toward a hidden exit door in the wall.
For one fleeting moment, I think of taking it. But then Karter gets down on her hands and knees, then her belly—she wouldn’t make it through otherwise; as small as the space is, we’ll all have to crawl on our stomachs—and starts to slip beneath the wall.
If she’s doing it, I’m doing it.
I glance up at Ace. “See you on the other side?”
His eyes are wide, and I think he might chicken out too, but then he just nods. “Be careful.” And he lets my hand go.
I drop to my knees, grateful for all the yoga I’ve done from my MacBook in Darkmouth’s living room. The scent of dust and fake fog and iron fills my nose as I lower myself further, to my chest. My heart thuds frantically in my ears and it’s hard to focus.
There’s nothing but yawning darkness ahead and the sound of screams and too loud, piano driven, eerie music.
My panic spikes as I realize, halfway under the wall, there are three tunnel-like paths to choose from, and I’m on the far left one.
I don’t know if I’ll end up in the same room as Karter and Ace but they have to be close, right? Maybe the three branches feed into one room at the end of a short hallway? I mean, how intricate can this be?
It’s a castle, Neve. It can be a maze.
Spots and shapes form in front of my eyes like they’re closed and my breathing grows shallow. My gloves are on, and I’m grateful every inch of me but my face is covered or this narrow crevice and contact with the marble floor would make it so much worse.
Yet when I arch up in a semblance of an upward dog pose and find I can—slowly—get to my feet, my panic only skyrockets.
I can see nothing. Hear nothing, except screaming from underneath where I just crawled. It’s like I’m in a void.
My mouth goes dry. My chest rises and falls too fast. We had to leave our phones with our toques and outer coats and I start to think maybe they set this up to murder all of us.
My mind flickers to Jackson in the grass.
Not now. Not here.
I turn around, intending to crawl back under the wall and find my way to the entrance, then out of this damn castle, when the wall just… drops. With a clang.
No.
I dart toward it anyway and try to push.
It doesn’t budge.
I hit the heel of my hand along it, then I smack it again. And again. But it feels like iron and my hands grow sore and I start to think I’m going to have to take down some clowns when— Someone grabs me. From behind.
The taste of terror floods my mouth and ice flows through my veins. My mind flickers to Sylvan this morning but the person behind me laughs and it’s wicked and distorted and it’s not Sylvan Connor.
Right now, I wish it was.
I elbow the person at my back, both their arms around my waist. They jolt behind me but their laughter rings louder and they grip me tighter.
I stomp down on where I think their foot is in the dark and my aim is true.
They hiss between their teeth and I try to jerk away.
If it’s an employee, they can’t hold me against my will, right?
Castle Morack is a respected local establishment.
They host family nights for fuck’s sake.
But just when I think I’m free, their grip slipping, they jerk me back by my hair.
A scream leaves my lips this time. Something isn’t right. This might not be an employee. What if it’s Jackson’s killer? Will’s? Mitchell’s?
Yet the pain in my scalp vanishes almost as quickly as it started. The manic laughter transforms into a screech.
Then there’s a thud against the opposite wall.
And Sylvan Connor asks, “Do you want to die tonight?”
The person who grabbed me screams. A man, I think. Then I hear footsteps, like he’s running away.
There’s another voice. Familiar. “Neve?”
Ace.
For some reason, fear twists my heart and I grope around in the dark, trying to find the exit but my palms keep smacking into solid walls. I glance over my shoulder, but I can see nothing in the gloom.
A wretching sound, like a person… gagging?
Oh, God.
Ace has gone quiet.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
A thud. Someone hit the floor?
It’s Sylvan, isn’t it? And I’ve known all along.
I smack my palms against the wall but I don’t scream. I don’t ask for help.
Not even when I hear a squelching sound. Not even when Sylvan’s words hit my ear. “Time to leave, baby girl.”