Carnival of Bones (Carnival of Bones Duet Book 1)

by Penn Cassidy

  Gone were the cobwebs and the dreary grey tents torn with age. Booths were lit up with flashing signs and arrows, while carneys in wacky clothing waved people over to their lines.

  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was like I’d walked into a dream…or maybe I’d awoken from one.

  I stumbled down a set of wooden stairs, unable to look away. Surrounding the carnival grounds were tall cypress trees, white oaks, and curtains of Spanish moss, creating a sort of cocoon, but the trees were filled with strings of fairy lights.

  In order to get to some of the rides, you had to cross wooden bridges over small sections of the swamp. The reeds and grass looked overgrown, and I spied some beautifully crafted covered wagons in the distance trimmed in blinking lights, potted plants, and windchimes.

  In the very center of it all, though, was a massive tent. It was striped in red and white with a little flag on the top and ropes strung out to the sides, anchoring it to the ground. There was a long line of people waiting to get inside the gaping flap. Beyond it was only darkness.

  I looked over my shoulder at Bael, who stood there at the threshold to the fun house, just watching me. His dark blue eyes were shining like jewels, filled with mischief that made my stomach flip. I felt like he was waiting for something.

  It lasted for all of five seconds.

  “Follow me," he said, "and don’t fall behind, please. I won’t be held responsible for what happens if you do.”

  Sweeping past me, he hopped down the stairs, taking them all at once in a jump and landing lightly on his feet with barely a sound. The way he moved was like he was floating—graceful and poised.

  “Hey!” I called out after him, trying to catch up.

  He was walking swiftly away, not bothering to look back and see if I was coming. Somehow, it was like he just knew.

  “Bael!” I shouted again since he wasn't listening, nearly tripping over my dress.

  Damnit! What the hell is going on right now?

  There was too much pep in his step, and as he weaved around carneys and people waiting in long lines, he smiled broadly, waving or tipping his chin up at them, all with a twinkle in his eyes.

  I was so focused on not falling behind that it took a moment for certain things to register.

  I stopped cold, once again feeling Lafayette swirling around my bare calves, meowing as if wondering why I’d stopped so suddenly.

  There were lines of people to my right and left, waiting for confections, waiting to play games and win prizes…but they looked wrong. How the hell did I miss it before?

  Though the carnival was bright and shiny with lights and colors everywhere, these people were the opposite, their skin grey and eyes vacant. It was like someone had plucked them straight from an old black and white movie.

  I realized that none of them were speaking. In fact, they were barely moving at all, just standing there as if they’d been instructed to do so. Meanwhile, carneys just went on entertaining.

  There were two clowns walking around on stilts to my right, both in red and purple diamond patterned jumpsuits, causing me to stagger sideways. They walked with a slow grace as they weaved over and through the crowds of grey people.

  Nobody reacted.

  There were a few ride operators in fancy outfits that consisted of tall hats and oversized velvet coats with shiny buttons shouting nonsense about winning prizes or taking risks on death-defying contraptions.

  Several carneys even met my eyes as I passed by, each one only smiling and occasionally winking at me as if they knew something I didn’t, but nobody approached me.

  Passing a tall wooden booth with a pane of glass across the front, I realized there was a woman sitting inside of it. Letters made of blinking lights read, ‘Fortune Teller.’

  I approached the glass slowly. The woman was beautiful, maybe around sixty-something years old, with long silver hair dripping in beads and piercings all over her face. Her makeup was dark but vibrant too, and she wore a beaded dress that matched the royal blue silk scarf around her hair.

  She beckoned me with a hand, bangles clinking as they dangled from her wrist. I was about to oblige, when once again, Lafayette rubbed up against me, snapping me out of my stupor.

  To my right, I realized there was already a line of grey people waiting to have their fortunes told. A cold, dry arm brushed against mine as I looked up into the eyes of a man. His cheekbones jutted in an unhealthy manner, and his eyes were milky and blank.

  That was when my fight-or-flight finally kicked in. Flight, it seemed, won out.

  I took off in a random direction, but it wasn’t the one Bael had sauntered off in. I hoped he was still prancing through the carnival, unaware that I’d stopped following him.

  I ran even though my feet ached, trying to head in a straight path so I wouldn’t get turned around. There was no way I was going back through that fun house. I’d just get lost and Bael would eventually track me down.

  Nobody even looked at me twice as I shoved through throngs of grey faces. No one cursed at me or asked me what the hell I was doing. They bobbed when I moved them aside, expressions dead and vacant, eyes glazed over and pupils tiny pinpricks.

  I almost didn’t even want to touch their skin. Dread coursed through me as I ran, heading for that distant jumble of cypress trees in the distance. At this point, I was pretty sure I preferred the company of the gators instead of whatever was happening here.

  Being in the middle of the swamplands, the weird carnival was hard to navigate. There were several vendors or small rides situated on their own little sections of land with rickety bridges leading to the raised wooden platforms that rose up out of shallow swamp water.

  Some platforms had interconnecting bridges, so I followed them, hoping I wouldn’t run into a dead end. Sooner or later, I’d have to make a decision—I could wade back into the waters and take my chances until someone stumbled upon me, or I could give up and hope Bael wasn’t about to axe murder me.

  Right now, running seemed like a great choice. Nobody tried to stop me as I neared the edge of the carnival. I crossed one last little bridge before landing on the other side, where the tall reeds made me nervous. You never knew what lurked there, just waiting to bite at your ankles.

  Branches smacked me in the face and dragged uncomfortably over my exposed skin as I pushed my way through the dense trees. It was still dark, and a thin layer of fog undulated over the tricky swamp floor. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to break an ankle and find myself stranded all over again.

  All I could picture in my head as I ran were those grey, sallow-looking faces. Something about their vacant, expressionless eyes sent chills down my spine. Bael hadn’t said a word about it, just sauntered right past them without a care.

  And Bael was another issue entirely. It had been impossible to get a read on him. Was he dangerous? I had no idea.

  He was odd and off-putting, that was for sure, but dangerous? I wasn’t sure I wanted to stick around to find out. Sure, he was beautiful, but looks were meaningless.

  Austin was handsome…granted, not quite in the same way. There was a beauty to Bael that wasn’t quite of this world. Austin’s looks only masked something much darker lurking underneath those charming smiles.

  I lost my footing a few times as I ran farther away from the lights of the carnival. I could no longer hear that too slow music, so that was a good sign. I could handle a few tumbles. I was already covered in blood, so what was a little more?

  Realistically, I had no idea where I was going, or even in what direction. I’d been raised in the bayou, but unless you already knew where you were, it was easy to get lost in here. Everything was so densely packed that getting turned around was bound to happen quickly.

  I ran in the straightest line I could manage, sometimes having to wade through shallow swamp water. I didn’t want to take too many twists or turns, because the bayou was a huge chunk of south Louisiana, and there was a good chance I’d end up deep into a wild territory tha
t I couldn’t get out of.

  There was a good reason why most tourists booked guided tours rather than wandering around aimlessly.

  After tripping and falling for the hundredth time, I stopped, leaning heavily against the trunk of a tree. Catching my breath, I reached down and ripped the bottom part of the long white dress. The rip was jagged and messy, making the bloodied mess look even more haggard, but I needed the room for my legs. There were so many logs to jump over, and this long dress just wasn’t cutting it.

  I took off in a run again after half my dress was ripped away. Humid air whipped at me, and my feet squished into the sticky mud.

  Crickets sang, and the branches clacked in the barely there breeze. I supposed the song of the crickets was a balm to my already frayed sanity. At least it was familiar.

  The farther I got into the deep swamp, the weirder things started to seem, if that were even possible. I slowed, staggering slightly.

  I could have sworn I just saw that gnarled, half broken tree ten minutes ago…

  Maybe I was losing it. All these trees looked alike.

  And yet…

  I stopped again, arms braced on my knees as I fought to catch my breath. I cursed at the darkness around me, knowing for damn sure that I’d seen that exact tree once before.

  I glared at the damp soil under my bare feet, watching my toes squish into the mud.

  What the hell was I supposed to do?

  Just as I straightened up again, a chill wind swept past me, brushing my hair off my shoulders. I stiffened, focusing as hard as I could at the darkness ahead. The wind was out of place in the humid night, and it carried with it a sound. No, a voice.

  Moria… it seemed to call out. For a moment, I wondered if I was imagining it, until my name rang through the night several more times.

  Whispery, gentle, and slow. I couldn’t tell if it was a man’s voice or a woman’s. Every hair on my body stood on end, and a nervous fluttering filled my stomach.

  The voice continued to say my name, almost in a singsong melody, as if taunting me.

  As if saying, Moria, I know you are lost, and I’m here to make sure you stay that way…

  So I ran.

  I didn’t make it very far though before I tripped. Because of course I would when it mattered the most.

  Stumbling to my knees and catching myself with my palms braced in the mud, I blinked up at the lights overhead and that sweeping archway that read, ‘Welcome home.’

  No…

  This couldn’t be happening. I’d run for at least half an hour in a straight line. I should be miles away by now.

  But there it was—the Carnival of Bones, shining like a beacon in the dark swamplands.

  A halo of bright colors danced in the sky around it, and the night reflected off the gleaming metallic Ferris wheel as it spun around and around, grey-skinned people filling the seats. There was no laughter, no chatter. Nothing but that slow music and the hollering of the vendors.

  The ticket booth stood to my left just outside the arch, and inside was that same skeleton waiting at the window with Christmas lights draped around its neck, this time blinking brightly. I stared at the skeleton’s vacant eyeless sockets, almost expecting the thing to move.

  My heart was pounding, and my head felt both light and heavy at the same time. I couldn’t quite catch my breath as I tried to get to my feet.

  Moria…

  Again, the voice called for me.

  Again, it taunted me.

  Closer now.

  Too close.

  I was in danger and knew I needed to get away, but how? Where? What could I do? This place was impossible. Nothing made sense. I felt sick.

  “Moria.” The voice came from over my shoulder. Deep. Lilting. Expectant.

  I didn’t want to turn around, so I closed my eyes tightly. It had to be a dream. All of this had to be a fucking nightmare. There was no other explanation. I was a believer in the mystical, but this went beyond that.

  There was a presence behind me. Someone was there, standing close enough to touch. It wasn’t Bael’s teasing voice I’d heard either.

  Whoever it was didn’t say another word. Just stood there waiting, ever so patiently, as I tried to pretend they weren’t. But I knew I couldn’t realistically run from this. Whatever this was, I would have to face it. I didn’t want to, but I was running out of options.

  You’re a fucking Laveau, Mori. Act like it for once in your miserable life…

  Inner me was right, even though I hated it. I was stronger than I was pretending to be. I was stronger than I’d let myself believe.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, I turned on my heel, eyes still closed, until I was facing the owner of that deep, terrifying voice. I could feel their eyes on my face, as if they were physically touching me.

  Then, as if an invisible force were urging me to, I opened my eyes.

  All words, thoughts, and reason fled my mind as I stared into the blackest eyes I'd ever seen. No whites, no color. Just endless pools of onyx that shone with the starlight from up above.

  And his face… Oh my god, his face…

  It was a man I didn't recognize, who was definitely not Bael, standing so still, he could have been a statue. He was handsome. Almost too handsome.

  Over six feet tall, muscled, and wearing a black suit with the coat open and no shirt underneath, his skin was nearly the same color as the rich soil beneath my feet.

  He was barefoot, despite his nice clothing, and again, his face… Something wasn't right.

  I couldn’t tell if it was paint or some kind of tattoo, but his face was covered in what looked like an intricate skull-like design that really didn't look like makeup, and something told me that if I reached up and touched it, I would only feel smooth skin.

  But then the light shifted through the trees, blocking the moonlight after a moment, and the skull façade was gone, leaving behind a handsome man with eyes like the void.

  Any second now, I was going to either pass out or throw up. I’d never, ever in my entire life felt the kind of stark fear that coursed through my icy veins at this moment. The man was much too close, and those depthless eyes drank me in.

  I couldn’t move, couldn’t run or scream or even speak. It was like waking from a nightmare, frozen to the spot, unable to do anything but wait for the demon in the corner to rush out and grab you.

  “Moria,” he said again, and my whole body shuddered.

  His lips had formed my name slowly, as if tasting every syllable and enjoying it immensely.

  I remained frozen to the spot, and he reached out, placing his pointer finger directly on my forehead between my eyes.

  His touch burned so cold that I screamed, and the world faded away in seconds.

  The last thing I remember was dropping to my knees, clutching my scorched forehead, then toppling over into darkness.

  I dreamed of Grandma Annette and her warm, comfortable old house. Of clutching a hot mug of her spicy tea while her three hound dogs lounged on the floor by the fireplace that was never used.

  I knew I was dreaming though. Oddly, I could remember every single thing that had happened to me from the moment I’d woken up in my apartment drenched in blood.

  It was all there—the memory of my soaked dress, my bare feet sinking into mud, and my palms dragging against distorted mirrors. It was there, and I was trying my hardest to hide from it.

  I held the mug of tea tightly, inhaling the rich steam and settling back into her plush, worn couch. Grandma sat in her hundred-year-old rocking chair, sewing something intricate onto a pillowcase while humming an out of tune song.

  It was one I recognized, a song she used to hum to me while I slept in my little crib that used to rest over in the corner. So many memories in this old shack of a house on the swamp bank.

  Any moment now, I’d wake up. Where I’d be when that happened was a mystery I wasn’t quite ready to solve. Maybe I’d wake up snug in my bed back in the Quarter, nursing a black eye, a gift fro
m Austin for sleeping so late.

  Maybe I'd find him sitting up in bed, glaring down at me from over a worn paperback he was pretending to read.

  Maybe I’d breathe a sigh of relief, even as he wrenched me from the bed or pinned me to it. Either way, it would mean things had gone back to normal. It would mean that I hadn’t actually snapped.

  A little voice in the back of my head asked the hard questions though. Questions like…did I even want to go back to Austin? To that solitary, lonely life of staring out my bedroom window, watching the world go on without me? Did I want to go back to lying to Grandma Anne, pretending like he was just overworked? I wasn’t sure what the answer was.

  All I could picture clearly at the moment were two pairs of eyes, one navy and the other the deepest black. Those eyes watched me in my mind’s eye, as if waiting for that decision I’d have to inevitably make.

  I studied Grandma Anne as she rocked steadily in her chair. She’d always been beautiful, yet never more so than in moments like this.

  The lamp to her left with the ornate, beaded red shade cast her almond colored skin in hues of sunset and bounced off of her tight black curls streaked heavily with steel grey.

  I looked a lot like her…like my dad too. The only trait I seemed to have inherited from my mom was my one blue eye, freckles, and a ginger tint to my hair.

  Grandma’s house was comfortable, passed down through generations of Laveaus. She never officially married my late grandfather, not wanting to give up that part of her heritage over something as cut and dry as loving a man.

  But that was Grandma Anne for you—headstrong and the biggest feminist I knew. As a high priestess in our community, she was well respected, and people always sought her out when they needed guidance, advice, answers from the ancestors, or even just a kind, reassuring word. I was proud to be her granddaughter.

  Tears pricked my eyes as I watched her in silence. I still hadn’t taken a single sip of my imaginary tea. Just being here in this room helped, but I knew I’d have to leave her soon. I couldn’t exactly stay in here forever.