Chapter 11 Jules
JULES
I’m panting hard, my hand pressed against the stitch in my side. I should have taken that bootcamp workout class at the gym—I feel like a pet bunny dropped into the Serengeti. Only I’m not running away from lions.
Is Elias really going to kill me just because I found some files? I don’t even have my phone on me, so who would believe me anyway?
Fuck. Fucking fuck. How am I getting out of this jam?
Elias called to have the gates closed. I could try climbing the fence, but I’ll probably end up slicing myself up into ribbons. Why didn’t I put the rest of my clothes on?
Because you were hoping for round two with the crazy man and his magic dick, Jules.
Yeah, it’s not the first time my ovaries got me into half-naked morning-after regrets. But after this, it might not happen again. Because I’ll be dead.
I stop as a sob bursts out of my chest and bite down on my fist to muffle the sound.
Think, Jules, think!
“Where are you, Jewel?” Elias’s voice sounds from behind me, echoing between the rides.
To my right, the bumper cars pavilion lights up, and I stumble to the left. Then music starts playing, a distorted warble at first, before settling into an upbeat tune.
“Oh, god,” I whisper, my hand on my chest. How can I hide when everything is about to be lit up? How can I hear him coming when the rides are about to each blare their own creepy-cute song?
As more rides start waking up, I head in the direction of the Ferris wheel, still in the dark. When footsteps and voices sound behind me, I dash under the loading platform, holding my breath.
“Good,” I hear Elias’s voice say. “Get the houses. I’ll turn on the Ferris wheel.” A low chuckle. “Fond memories.”
Shit, shit, shit! He’s coming here!
I crouch down, trying to make myself as small as possible. Elias is whistling a spooky tune, his footsteps slow and measured. Gravel crunches under boots—he must have gotten dressed, while I’m still vulnerable and exposed, tall stalks of grass tickling my thighs as I keep low to the ground.
I cover my mouth with my hand as he walks up the steps to the loading platform.
A moment later, he’s standing directly above me.
He’s put on his ringmaster outfit, or at least some of it, and something dark hides his face.
He flips a switch and pushes a button. Slowly, the Ferris wheel starts to move, the metal creaking as weight is redistributed.
White spots dance in front of my eyes, and I take a deep breath, the sound masked by the clanking of suspended cages.
“Oh, Jules,” Elias singsongs. “You can’t hide forever.”
Tears slide down my cheeks as my toes go numb from the cold ground.
“Boss!” someone calls out, making me flinch. “Want me to get Cujo on her scent, help you find the thief?”
Elias chuckles above me even as my eyes go wide. A dog?
“Sure. I have her scent right here.”
I watch as he pulls bright red lace from his pocket—my bra! My cheeks warm when he lifts it up, and I hear him take a loud drag. When he groans, my clit pulses in response.
Traitor!
As soon as Elias walks toward the worker who’s offering to track me down with hounds like a fugitive, I sneak away from the ride. I need to get somewhere safe. Maybe somewhere indoors?
I’m walking between rides, sticking to the shadows, when I’m startled by loud laughter. It takes me a moment to realize it has that tinny sound signaling it’s coming from speakers, but I’m already trying a side door marked STAFF ONLY. Unlocked.
Relieved, I slip inside. I’m in a dark, narrow hallway that seems to run on the outer edges of the building. Probably a maintenance corridor. I could stay here, but… It just takes someone opening the door and peeking inside to see me—there’s nowhere to hide.
I walk past the back ends of whatever carnival machinery fuels the ride I’m in, sometimes almost tripping over cables on the ground. Quirky music can be heard from the other side, more tinny laughter, and various sound effects.
Finally, I find a sliding panel and duck through, closing it behind me. When I straighten, my heart freezes in horror. I’m in the freaking funhouse, and there’s clown stuff everywhere!
“Oh, no,” I groan. And, yeah, maybe the man chasing me with the intent of ending my life should be my top worry right now. But I really do hate clowns. “I need to find somewhere to hide…”
I look around, trying to find a good place to lay low. The walls are painted with spirals, stripes, and warped faces. I take a step, and the floors bounce under me, a honk sounding from the speakers, louder than my shriek of terror.
“I hate this, I hate this, I hate this,” I mutter as I carefully inch toward the other end of the room. I pull away the curtain, momentarily relieved to be out of the bouncy room. But now I have to go through a spinning tunnel.
It’s painted with stars, and I feel drunk just looking at it. I grab the handrail and try to get past with my eyes closed, but I’m too afraid to keep them shut. What if I run into a trap? What if I run into Elias?
Suddenly, I stumble and nearly fall. Strong hands grab me by the waist, steadying me, and I let out an ear-rending scream.
“Easy there, Little Sapphire. Don’t want you hurting yourself… yet.”
“Let me go!”
I struggle against him, elbowing him in the ribs. All he does is chuckle.
His hands disappear as fast as they appeared, and I jolt into movement, leaving the tunnel behind me. I don’t even turn around to look at him, too afraid I’ll fall. It spits me out into a room full of distorted mirrors. As I walk past the heavy frames, I can’t help glancing at my reflection.
One mirror makes me look as tall as an electricity pole, the next as small as a toddler. Convex and concave glass bends my face grotesquely. Then mirrors that somehow show me from different angles. In one of those, I see Elias standing behind me. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat.
He’s wearing his striped pants and suit jacket, no shirt covering his defined pecs and abs or the tattoos etched over them.
But it’s his face, or rather, what’s covering it, that draws my eyes.
He’s wearing a black Venetian-style leather mask with gold accents, molded perfectly to cover his forehead, the bridge of his nose, and the tops of his cheeks with only his pale eyes blazing through the symmetrical eyeholes.
The way the mask accents his perfect lips and jawline is as criminal as his intentions with me are. When he notices me watching him, those lips stretch into a sinful smile. It jolts me out of my trance, and I glance behind me… to find no one there.
“Where are you?” I ask angrily. “Stop toying with me!”
“Jules,” he calls softly from somewhere to the right, and I start running again.
In the next room, the ceiling is so low I need to duck as I run, batting away hanging obstacles and vinyl flaps as my feet wade through a sea of rubber balls. I keep feeling like something is brushing against my skin, but when I whirl around, it’s just hanging foam or rubber curtains.
I take another step, and the floor disappears. With a shriek, I drop down onto a bouncy castle, rubber balls pelting me from above.
“I... hate it here!” I yell at the top of my lungs. Only clownish laughter replies.
I scooch off the inflated fortress, barely catching my balance when I’m on solid ground again.
The next room is dark and eerily quiet. The absence of bright colors and circus sounds disorients me as much as the spinning tunnel did.
The walls are covered with neon paint that glows under the humming UV lights strategically placed around.
Glowing arrows on the floor seem to point in every direction, making it impossible to know which way the exit is.
It feels colder here, and I rub my hands over my exposed arms, missing my leather jacket.
My steps are soundless as I pick a random direction and follow the maze, glowing symbols mocking me from the black walls.
It’s my breath that sounds too loud now, rasping as I try to calm down, my throat scratchy and dry.
The mirrors here are different, showing only fragments—my eye here, the curve of my mouth there, a flash of blue hair. I think I see Elias’s pale gaze in one of the fragments and spin frantically, my heart a booming pulse in my ears. Nothing.
“Elias?” I whisper, hating myself for saying his name. I don’t think my body got the memo yet—we don’t want him to catch us. Trembling, I back up, only to hit something warm.
A hand closes around my wrist.
I scream, but the sound is swallowed by the narrow maze walls. Warm breath tickles my earlobe as he leans in close.
“Gotcha.”