By a Charm and a Curse(71)
“Stay here,” Marcel says, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ll go get Lars or Duncan or someone… Hey!”
There’s no time. I stride between the cars separating us, not even trying to hide my approach. Let Lorenzo see me. Let him see me and be afraid.
“Hey, jackass,” I say, planting my feet wide in the dying grass.
Lorenzo turns, brow glistening with sweat and furrowed in frustration. I twine my fingers together and lock my elbows, swinging my arms as hard as I can into his stomach. It’s like hitting him with a baseball bat. The air whooshes out of him, and his eyes go wide with shock before he tumbles backward.
Marcel skids to a stop beside me, nearly tripping over Lorenzo. “Holy hell, Emma!”
I don’t have time to think about what I did, about how close Lorenzo got to taking Ben outside the confines of the carnival, where I wouldn’t be able to get to him. I just have to make sure Ben is safe.
“Help me get Lorenzo into this trunk,” I say.
Marcel grabs Lorenzo’s legs, and I take his arms, tossing him—with little regard for his comfort—into the small space. Marcel moves to lock Lorenzo away, but as we’re slamming the trunk down, I hear a little groan. Ben.
“Marcel, tell Lars where Lorenzo is and then bring whoever you can here.” I point toward an abandoned booth in the shadow of the Ferris wheel. “No one will think to look for us there. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
I don’t take my eyes off Ben, but the crunch of gravel is enough to tell me that Marcel has run off to do as I asked. Kneeling beside him, I shake Ben’s shoulder. “Hey. I need you to wake up.”
“Don’t want to,” he grumbles, one hand slipping beneath his glasses to rub at his eye.
If fear weren’t fizzing through me, I might find this absofuckinglutely adorable. But I don’t have the luxury of thoughts like that, not till we’re safe. I lean in close, until we’re inches apart. “Ben! It’s still dangerous. Two of the Morettis are still out here, and—”
It’s like my voice has finally pierced through the fog. His eyes fly open, so blue, so bright, and he focuses in on me.
“Emma,” he says, my name a gentle exaltation. “Are you okay?” he asks, even though he is the one I found passed out and about to be abducted.
“I’m fine—” Better than fine, for the first time in a long time, but I can’t think about that. “But we have to hide. Now.”
He doesn’t question, just acts. Quicker than I would have thought possible considering the state I found him in, he hops up and takes hold of my hand, his grip fierce. He lets me lead as we dart through the parked cars and trucks, headed back toward the shouting and panicked people. We only have a short distance to cover before the Ferris wheel looms above us.
It’s a perfect circle of golden light set apart from all the other attractions.
“Let’s go,” Ben says. “We’ll stop at the top, and no one will think to look for us up there.”
The short stretch of matted down dirt and weeds between us and the Ferris wheel feels like it’s a million miles long. There’s no cover, and the whole point of hiding on the ride would be for nothing if someone saw us. I can feel his pulse pressing against my wrist where our hands are joined, can feel his shoulders heaving from the exertion of running.
The yelling and sounds of confusion behind us are the confused squeaks of small woodlands animals. Benjamin stumbles on a rock or a root or something and almost goes down, but his fingertips brush against the ground and he pushes himself back up.
Our feet make hollow pounding sounds as we run up the steps to the ride, and I throw open the door to one of the cars while Benjamin pries the cover off the control panel and roots around inside. I keep my eyes on the rows of shining booths and tents, sure that someone is going to burst out of the line and find us at any minute. Finally Benjamin pulls out a small box and jumps into the car with me.
He wrenches an antenna up, flips a silver switch, and presses a green button. The world grows smaller as we drift up, and the whole time I find myself praying that no one sees the lights of the Ferris wheel moving in a slow circle against the blue-black of the sky.
When we’re almost at the top, Benjamin punches a red button, and the wheel slows, stopping just past the apex. The car rocks gently with dying momentum. The night is breezy, but nowhere near as windy as the night I’d been up here with Sidney.
Sidney.
Unbidden, I am reminded of his bright grin, of the cocky way he had tipped back his hat to look at me under the moonlight. I hunt the grounds to find the top of the haunted house. I see the line of winding taillights of cars trying to escape the horror they’d seen, and a flicker of orange, more like a fire than the electric glow of a game. Dark shadows cluster here and there; a group around Happy’s trailer, and lingering by the spot where Sidney died. A soft, dry rasp escapes my throat.
Ben slides an arm around my shoulders, rubbing small, soothing circles onto my back. “It’s okay.” His voice is distant, and I can tell that he’s on the lookout, too. But for the moment, we seem to be safe. “Emma,” he says, an odd wobble in his voice, “I need to tell you something.”
His cheeks are ruddy from running, and the wind has rumpled his hair into seventy different angles. His eyes are too bright, wide like baby moons, and even after everything that’s happened, he wears a lopsided sort of grin.