Miss Mayhem (Rebel Belle #2)(46)

The man I’d bumped was wearing stained jeans and a Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt, so nothing unusual for the fair, but there was something about the way his eyes focused on mine that had the words dying on my lips.

“Paladin,” he said with a little nod, and a jolt went through me. It wasn’t the feeling I got when David was in trouble; this was just normal fear, slithering through me, making food the last thing on my mind.

The crowd swallowed the man, but I stood still, making Bee turn to look at me with a little frown. “Harper?”

“Something’s wrong,” I told her. “It’s . . . I think it’s a trial.”





Chapter 22


BEE REACHED OUT, squeezing my hand. “I’ll come with,” she said, “whatever it is.”

But I shook my head. “No, you heard what Alexander said. If anyone helps me, I’m disqualified.”

Which I was pretty sure meant “dead,” even though Alexander hadn’t spelled it out that specifically.

I could see a white circle forming around Bee’s lips as she pressed them together, but in the end, she nodded. “Okay. But is there anything I can do?”

“Leave,” I told her immediately. “You and Ryan get out of here, and if you see anyone we know, try to get them to leave, too.” The last trial had involved fire, after all. There was no telling what might happen this time, and the fairgrounds were full of people. Kids.

“Will do,” Ryan said, already taking Bee’s elbow and pulling her away. I turned from them, heading in the direction the man had gone. My heart was pounding, palms slick with sweat, and with every step I took, my knees seemed to go more watery. The colored lights that had seemed so pretty when we came in now cast weird shadows, making me jumpy as I kept pushing my way through the crowd.

I couldn’t see the man who had called me Paladin, but I somehow knew where to go, walking down the midway before turning left, then taking a right. All the rides on this side of the fairgrounds were crowded, lines of people waiting to get on the Ferris wheel or ride something called the Galactic Centipede. But one attraction was completely deserted, almost like there was a bubble around it, making it invisible to the rest of the people here.

The Fun House.

Sighing, I studied the dark building with its garish green door. “Of course,” I muttered, visions of possessed carnies dressed as clowns filling my head. I didn’t have a weapon, and I’d worn low sneakers tonight, so my footwear wouldn’t be of any use.

Glancing around, I looked for anything I could use, but the only thing I saw was a couple of corn dog sticks, batter still clinging to the ends, stamped in the dirt. Um, no, thank you.

Then I glanced to the right, dozens of bobbing balloons catching my eye.

Perfect.

The guy running the balloon dart attraction was too busy flirting with a redheaded girl I vaguely recognized from the pageant sign-ups today to notice me sneak up alongside the booth and snatch a few darts from the side. Their tips weren’t all that sharp—that had to be a lawsuit in waiting—but I figured they’d do in a pinch. And when I saw a deserted spork lying on the ground, I grabbed that, too, grimacing as I wiped it off on my jeans. Desperate times clearly called for desperate measures.

Heading back to the Fun House, I saw that it was still deserted, people walking by it like it wasn’t even there.

Taking a deep breath, I slid the darts into my pocket, keeping the spork in my hand.

“Okay,” I muttered to myself. “Let’s do this.”

The Fun House had never been one of my favorite parts of the fair. I’d only gone in it once when I was about nine. Leigh-Anne had gone with me, holding my hand the whole time, pointing out how silly we looked in the distorted mirrors, giggling about how fake the lime-green skeleton dangling from a doorway was. Afterward, she’d told me I was obviously the bravest third-grader in the state of Alabama, and we’d gone to get another cotton candy as a reward.

I kept that memory in mind now as I slowly made my way through the deserted Fun House. It was eerily quiet, the only sound the creaking boards underneath my feet and my own breath sawing in my ears. What exactly was going to happen here? Were more brainwashed people going to jump me? Ugh, fighting off frat boys had been terrible, but fighting off carnies? Yeah, I definitely wanted to take a pass on that.

There were a few lights scattered here and there, but it was still dim enough that I had trouble making out the room I was in. Or was it rooms? I felt like I’d gone through a doorway, but I wasn’t sure.

I turned left, only to run into a wall, but when I turned back the way I’d come, there was a wall there, too. Disoriented, I turned again, passing through a door narrow enough to scrape my shoulders.

I was in a bigger room now, but it was even darker, and I wiped my free hand on the seat of my pants, wishing my heart weren’t thundering in my ears.

From the corner of my eye, I saw something move, and I whirled around, spork raised high, only to drop my arm immediately when I saw who was standing in front of me.

My parents were wearing the same clothes I’d seen them in earlier this evening, Dad in his sweatshirt and jeans, Mom already in her pajamas. They had their arms wrapped around each other, their eyes huge and faces almost gray.

“Harper!” my mom screamed, and I rushed forward, the spork falling from my suddenly numb fingers. Not my parents. The school had been bad enough, but if Alexander or the Ephors hurt my parents—