Chapter 4
When my eyes flew open, they were immediately stung by the bright light flooding the room. For a second, I thought everything I experienced was another nightmare. That night had passed, and I’d woken up to the sun shining in.
Until I tried to lift my hand to shield my vision.
My arms wouldn’t move. They were stopped by something around my wrists. The same restricting force was around my ankles as well, tying me down to what felt like a chair.
This was the point where I should be freaking out, but I could barely think, let alone move. There was a fog clouding my thoughts and an awful taste in my mouth.
My lips smacked together, trying to chase it away while my head lolled forward, too heavy for my neck.
Whatever drug they’d used was still in my system, even after my eyes adjusted. It took a minute for things to waver into focus as if everything hid behind a sheet of water, or I was trapped in a dream. It certainly looked like a dream.
My eyes trickled over the ballroom that stretched out around me.
Crystal chandeliers swayed low, dripping jaundiced light across warped floorboards.
The air reeked of polish gone sour mixed with the faint copper tang of blood.
Shadows clung high above, so dense that the ceiling seemed to dissolve into blackness.
“Where am I?” My tongue was too lazy to work properly, causing my words to sound sluggish, not that I thought anyone would answer. And if they did, it wouldn’t be someone I wanted to talk to.
My head once again fell forward, dropping my stare to the floor.
Once upon a time, it was probably beautiful.
Polished parquet or maple, maybe? Now the boards had dulled to a grey except for the places where dark stains had seeped into the wood grain.
Like the patch of wood directly under my bare feet.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had caused that stain.
A fingernail remained stuck in the wood.
Well, that’s not good.
I thought back to the scratches I’d seen in the banister. Was it the same person? Hopefully, she was wearing fake nails. Otherwise, that would’ve really hurt.
That was an odd thought to have. I should be scared, not thinking about fake nails.
Come on, Mazie, you need to focus.
I forced myself to lift my chin and blinked my eyes, trying to chase away the haze over my vision.
The edges of the room pulsed as if the walls couldn’t quite decide where they ended.
The mirrors lining them didn’t help. Their silver backing had blackened and peeled in jagged patches, throwing back a dozen distorted versions of me.
Each piece caught me at a different angle.
Eyes wide, mouth slack, hair sticking to my damp forehead.
It was like looking at a mosaic of someone unraveling.
I tried to move, but leather bit into my wrists and ankles. I was bound tightly to the heavy wooden chair beneath me.
Panic flared, pumping adrenaline through my system, but even that felt dulled. The fearful surge did help clear my vision a bit, however.
That was when I saw them.
The couple who checked in before me sat a few feet away, tied to their own chairs.
Neither one of them was doing very well. The woman slumped forward with her hair hanging in her face. Blood trickled from a large gash on her right arm and scratches on her thigh.
That wasn’t what made my eyes widen in horror. She was naked from the waist down, and there was a bodily fluid marking her thighs. It was milky and thick, like cum.
The man beside her seemed to be doing better. He only had a couple of scratches and a few bruises. But like the woman, he was also naked and marked with the same fluid.
I immediately checked myself for clothing.
Thankfully, everything seemed to be on. I’d never been so happy to see my denim shorts. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t end up like them. I needed to get out of here. If only I could think.
“Hey,” the man whispered and nodded at me. “My name’s Austin Whitmore. What’s yours?”
Why did he want to know my name? Didn’t we have bigger things to worry about than introductions? Then it hit me. He wanted to know in case one of us didn’t make it out of here. So, we could tell the police or families.
“Mazie Colins,” I told him, even though I had no one for him to notify. However, it might make him feel better.
He tipped his head at the slumped-over woman beside him. “That’s my wife, Gina.”
I nodded in response.
“Where are you from?”
“Ah, the star of the evening has finally awoken.” Another voice filled the room. One I recognized.
The Ringmaster.
Austin’s eyes went wide and frantically darted from me to the left.
A shiver shot up my spine as movement pulled my gaze to the center of the room, where a familiar figure in a top hat emerged from the shadows.
The ringmaster clapped his gloved hands. “Places everyone.”
Who was he talking to?
I took a quick scan of the room. There was no one else here. Wait… Something shifted at the edge of the light. Another figure was lingering there. The Mime. And he still had the knife in his hand.
The ringmaster’s tailcoat gleamed faintly as he held his arms out wide, like he was basking in applause only he could hear. “Let the show begin.”
Crap. How was I going to get out of this? They were clearly insane, and I was in no position to fight back. That was when I remembered something my mom used to tell me.
Violence is never the answer. You can reason with everyone.
I don’t think she was referring to psychotic circus performers at the time, but it was worth a shot, right?
“Excuse me.” I cleared my throat and said, “When you say show, what do you mean?”
“Why, entertainment of course,” The ringmaster said as if I should’ve known that.
Pretty sure I didn’t want to find out what his definition of entertainment was. “I don’t think any of us are in the shape to entertain.”
“Do you hear that, Flynn?” The ringmaster twisted his stare back to the mime. “It appears as if our star has stage fright.”
The word star should’ve stuck in my head, but for some reason, all I could think of was, Flynn? Really? That’s his name?
The ringmaster paced closer. His steps echoed against the floor and bounced off the walls, making it feel like he was surrounding me.
It was suffocating, and that was before he bent over and leaned in, choking me with his woodsy scent.
Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t pleasant either.
“Forgive the accommodations, Poppet,” he murmured while brushing a strand of hair from my face with his gloved finger. “But every act requires a stage. Every stage requires an audience…” His stare flickered to the couple, then slid back over to me. “And every show requires a star.”
Star. There was that word again, directed at me. There were three of us here, bound to chairs, yet he singled me out.
I should probably be scared—and I was—but I also didn’t have the energy to fight any more. There was no doubt in my mind that these two psychos were going to do horrific things to us, but did I deserve any less? Besides, I’d given up a long time ago. I was just as much of a ghost as she was.
The crack of the ringmaster’s clap rippled off the ballroom mirrors, making me jerk in my chair.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you are in for a treat tonight. I am the great Felix Finnegan, and this…” He waved at the mime. “is my brother Flynn.”
Were we supposed to know those names?
“Fuck you,” Austin spat back at him.
Felix didn’t say anything. He just looked over at Flynn, who moved without hesitation, closing the distance between us in three long strides. The knife plunged into Austin’s bare thigh.
My stomach lurched at the wet sound of his flesh tearing.
Austin’s guttural scream ripped through the ballroom, drilling his anguish into my skull until my ears rang.
His body bucked forward before the straps yanked him back, causing his chair to screech against the floor.
I stared as blood welled up thickly around the hilt of the knife. It streamed down his leg in bright red lines, tracing over muscle, then dripping off his knee onto the warped floor.
The drugs in my system kept my heartbeat calm, which made the entire thing feel surreal.
As more blood pooled under Austin’s chair, I found myself thinking that the knife jutting out from his leg looked like a flagpole, and Flynn had just declared Austin’s thigh his sovereign nation. I even snickered a little at the thought.
It wasn’t right, I knew that, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I barely noticed Gina stirring in the chair beside him.
Flynn left the blade buried for a moment, then slowly dragged it free. The steel gleamed bright crimson in the light as the liquid poured down, staining Flynn’s pristine, white glove.
Austin gasped and let out a sob as his leg convulsed against the restraint. He was obviously in a lot of pain, but I couldn’t stop staring at the mime’s glove.
It seemed wrong that blood stained something so crisp and clean.
“That’s going to be a bitch to clean.”
I don’t know why I said that. Then again, I don’t know why I was so focused on his glove either. I wasn’t obsessive about cleaning. Hell, my car probably had five pounds of junk-food wrappers in the back seat. But for some reason, the stains on his hands really bothered me.
Felix’s head snapped toward me. For a heartbeat, the room went quiet.
Austin’s anguished groans slowed, Gina’s muffled whimpers stopped, and even the storm outside seemed to hold its breath.
Then Felix laughed.
It wasn’t loud. It was a low, dark chuckle that wrapped tightly around us.
Flynn’s painted-on grin fixed on me as he tilted his head. He lifted the knife and dragged the flat of the blade over the bloodstains on his glove, smearing the crimson darker. Then he pressed the steel against his chest, over his heart, and bowed.
That was just plain rude. Now there was blood on his shirt.
“Flynn appreciates your attention,” Felix chuckled. “He does so love an audience.”
“Well, I hope he loves new gloves.” Because he sure as hell wasn’t getting those clean.
“Ah, Poppet,” Felix purred while taking a step closer. “You’re truly delightful. You’re not horrified by the blood or worried about your friend. No. You’re worried about a little laundry.”
“He’s not my friend.” I didn’t have any friends. Friends made it hard to disappear.
Felix arched a brow. “So, you wouldn’t care if we slit his throat right now?”
“Not really,” I shrugged.
That may have been cold, but the only thing I knew about Austin was that he had a bitchy wife. If I didn’t have the energy to care about my own life, why should I care about his? Then again, that could’ve been the drugs talking.
The smile on Felix’s face spread wide enough to show his perfect white teeth. “I knew you were a star.”
“I’m not a star.” There was only one star in my family, and her light was snuffed out.
“Oh, but you are.” Felix bent over, bringing his lips to the shell of my ear and whispered, “You have blood on your hands, too, don’t you, Poppet?”
I couldn’t deny his claim, but I wasn’t going to confirm it either. Instead, I turned away from him and swallowed back the heavy ball of guilt that formed in my throat.
“Come play with me, Mazie.”
That was the last thing she said to me. I could hear it so clearly.
The haunting memory of my baby sister followed me around.
I couldn’t escape her. Even now, when I was staring back at the face of death, I could smell the scent of her strawberry shampoo and see her bright smile in the mirror’s fractured reflection. Maybe this was my penance?
“If only you played with her, she wouldn’t have went out to the pool all alone.”
How did he know that?
My stare snapped up to Felix’s ice-blue eyes, gleaming with amusement.
He smiled back, then did something I never expected. He reached down and unbuckled the strap binding my left wrist, then he did the same with the right wrist and my ankles.
Why was he letting me go? This wasn’t right.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll run away?”
“Go,” he stood, and arched his hand through the air. “Run, if you can.”
Was this a trick?
I looked over my shoulder at the door, then back at him, and over to the knife in Flynn’s hand. Everything in me screamed to get up and run as fast as I could, but I just sat there, unmoving. My mind wanted to fight, but my soul was resigned to its fate.
Felix tipped his head and smirked down at me. “Guilt is the sweetest chain, Poppet. Invisible, unbreakable, and stronger than any rope I could tie you with. You want to be punished.”
No, I didn’t. Did I?
Once again, I looked over my shoulder at my escape. Yet once again, I didn’t move.
“And that is why you’re my star. But Poppet…” He grabbed my chin and forced me to look up at him. “Stars have to perform.”
My stomach sank as his eyes drifted over to Austin and Gina.
“We have an audience to appease, after all.”