“At our destination,” Fry said. “Here, let me show you around.”
Before she could get coffee into her system, he led her around a vacant space of grass. There was plenty of “we’ll put this here” and “this is the perfect spot for it,” but Evie couldn’t take much of it in. Before she could concentrate, she needed two things: caffeine and affection. But she would only get one of those things here, and it sure as hell wasn’t black with one sugar.
With her hair a rumpled mess, Evie turned back to the parked convoy, where she saw a gypsy lady climbing down the back steps of a wagon. Her jet-black hair fell over her colorful clothes in shiny ringlets. Even from a distance, Evie saw her eyes burn a bright green. “Who’s that?” she asked Fry.
“Hmm? Oh, that’s Jynx—our resident witch.”
“A witch?”
Fry laughed. “Sometimes she thinks she is. She’s just a fortune teller. A gypsy.”
“Whatever she calls herself, she looks an awful lot like Helena Bonham Carter.” Evie began to turn away from the gypsy witch, but then something else caught her eye. Behind Jynx, a tall, bulky-looking man emerged from the wagon. Held in his arms was a lump resembling an unconscious teenage boy. “What’s that?”
Fry spun back around, following Evie’s pointed finger. He squinted in the sunlight, took a step forward, and shielded his eyes with his hand. “Oh, that’s just one of our props. Why, what did you think it was?”
Evie shrugged. “It looked like a body.”
“Sure. We kill people and carry their corpses around for everyone to see.” Fry laughed, dug into his pocket, and retrieved some cash in crumpled notes. “Here, why don’t you go and get us some brunch? We can get started in fixing up the place while you’re gone.”
Slowly, her gaze fixed on the prop being carried into a semierected tent, Evie took the money. She kissed Fry on the cheek and wandered off toward the edge of the field. As she passed the gypsy wagon, she couldn’t help but cover her arms, a chill crawling through her flesh.
Chapter Fourteen
It took a whole four hours to get food. After exploring and getting lost three times (as ever was her way), Evie returned with brunch becoming lunch. It wasn’t much: two sandwiches, and she would offer him first pick.
She climbed up the last stroke of the hill and rounded the corner onto the field. It immediately hit her how fast they had worked erecting the carnival. By now the circus tent was established, and a number of rides provided by the local council surrounded it. Among them were some more of Lowner’s attractions, most noticeably the witch’s tent.
Despite being in a hurry to get back to Fry, Evie took a look at the prices the strange woman had posted and, realizing just how affordable it was, went inside to meet with Jynx for the first time.
“Come in, girl,” Jynx called from the back of the tent.
Cast in a dim glow, Evie was surprised by how much exterior noise was silenced through the material of her tent. Strong scents of jasmine and something else that Evie didn’t recognize wafted on the air.
“What will it be?” Jynx asked, waving Evie closer. “A fortune reading? A curse on a man who has done you wrong, perhaps?” The latter option came with a smile and a wink.
Evie smiled back, set down the sandwiches, and then took a seat across the bistro table. “A fortune sounds good.”
“Very well, then.” Jynx rose and blew out a candle, reducing the light even more. The candle made a pfft noise and seeped out an even stronger scent. She pressed a button on a remote, and a soft melody faded in around them. Within moments, a fortune-telling mood had been perfectly set. It felt serene—almost ghostly. Evie shivered.
“What do I have to do?” Evie said, watching Jynx ease herself back into the chair.
“Drink this.” She produced a small glass, full of a clear fluid.
“What is it?”
“A tonic that clears your mind and soul of all woes. It will burn out your bad energy and paint a clearer path for me to reach inside of you.”
Evie held it, examining the bottom.
“Just lemon water,” Jynx added with a wink.
Giggling softly under her breath, Evie raised the glass and let the water fall down her throat.
“Now, I want you to give me your hands and allow me to feel what’s buried within you.”
For her first fortune-telling experience, Evie thought that she had stumbled upon a good hostess. She had expected a woman who would fight too hard and force her beliefs onto her. Instead, she found herself with a woman who had no problem making fun of herself.
Jynx took her hands, tilted back her head, and began to chant.
Evie remained motionless, trying not to scratch at the sudden itch in her neck.
“Filia tor ralt,” Jynx went on, beginning to sway. “Filia tor gal raltiotza. Gal al noy fornitza tor gal raltiotza…”
The itch’s intensity increased, spreading farther across her neck and burning up her forehead. Evie slid one hand out of Jynx’s and scratched her throat. Like all bad itches, it didn’t stop there. Before she knew it, she was clawing wildly, aching to end the pain.
“I see a name,” Jynx mumbled, her eyes closed.
Evie ignored her. This was too overbearing. Now her mouth tingled into numbness, and her fingers and toes began to prickle as if she had stubbed them on the corner of a table leg. She pulled away her other hand, clutching at her neck.
“The name,” Jynx said, undisturbed. “The name is… Wendell.”
The chair toppled over as Evie climbed to her feet. Standing too fast, she stumbled back toward the door. Her legs wobbled, and her skin felt like it had turned to mush. It was like being drunk, only far, far worse.
Her dizziness rapidly turning to a fainting feeling, Evie was only a couple of small steps toward the flapping door of the tent when her legs caved in beneath her, sending her collapsing to the ground.
Chapter Fifteen
Fry Carter caught her in his arms, holding her upright and checking her pupils. Along with being scared to death, she was also utterly humiliated. Whatever had happened to her, Fry shouldn’t have to see it. But even with that thought floating aimlessly in her mind, she was glad he was there.
“What did you do?” he asked, looking in Jynx’s direction.
“I didn’t do anything,” she said but not without a maniacal laugh.
Fry held Evie upright, but she could feel dribble running down her chin. She tried to look away so he wouldn’t see it while he carried her in his arms and set her down on the couch inside a trailer that smelled strongly of pine.
“Wait here.”
He soon returned with a glass of water, holding it to her lips. Evie tried to drink it but could only manage small, timid sips. Still, each bit that she managed to swallow made her feel a little better. It was like waking up slowly from a good night of sleep, only to realize that you can’t feel your toes.
“You’re gonna be okay,” Fry told her, setting the cup aside and taking her into his arms. “She gave you something to drink, didn’t she? Jynx, I mean.”
Evie tried her best to nod but didn’t think she’d succeeded until Fry reacted.
“I knew it. Somehow, I just knew it. This stuff… it knocks you out for all of twenty minutes. You’ll be able to stand before you know it, and all this will just be a thing of the past.” He paused, nuzzling his nose into her hair. “I’m so sorry she did this to you. It may be harmless, but it isn’t pleasant. I keep telling her to ditch the stuff.”
Over the course of a few minutes, while some ticklish feeling returned to her toes and joints, Evie tried to speak. At first she could only manage a little, until she was able to push herself to sit upright on the couch. “Hate…” She cleared her throat. “Hate her.”
“Yeah, I don’t blame you.” Fry sat up, too, fiddling with his keys and looking down at them. “But she’s not all bad. It’s just her twisted idea of fun. Listen… we’re having a party tonight.”
“A… party?”
Evie coughed, took the glass, and downed the water in two large, thirsty gulps. “What kind of a party?”
“Nothing big. Just a bonfire and a few drinks. I know alcohol doesn’t seem all too appealing right now, but it would be good for you to get to know these people. If you’re going to stay with us, it wouldn’t hurt to at least try.”
Evie wanted to tell him to go and stick the party where the sun doesn’t shine. She knew that it was the witch’s fault for giving her the drink in the first place, but she felt so rancid that anybody was likely to irritate the crap out of her right now. “Maybe,” she whispered.
“You take some time to think about it. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
She was soon alone again, her energy slowly returning to her. The foul taste of bile lingered in her throat while she tried to recall what Jynx had said. She was chanting, I’m sure of it. But no matter how hard she tried, she could remember no further than that.
Chapter Sixteen
Conan Reed snapped out of his exhausted trance to find Jimmy standing in the doorway.
“Sorry if I scared you, boss,” Jimmy Williams said in as ass-kissing a tone as possible—the tone that was the man’s ugliest trait by a long shot. He’d worked hard to prove himself and climb up the ladder, which benefited the company, but the creepy manner with which he carried out these tasks made everyone uncomfortable.
“It’s fine.” Conan checked his watch. Seven o’clock on a Saturday evening, and he should have been at home. But ever since Evie had left for the carnival, he was stuck worrying about her. “What are you still doing here?”
Jimmy invited himself into the office, clutching a large pile of papers to his scrawny chest. “I saw you were working overtime, so I thought I would, too.”
Could you be any more obvious? Conan kept that comment to himself and just nodded. “Well, you should head home. It’s getting late.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind sticking around.”
“It’s okay.”
But Jimmy still lingered, probably trying to summon the courage to ask whatever he’d come in here to ask. “Have you heard from Miss Black?”
Conan exhaled slowly and shook his head. “No. I can’t seem to get hold of her.”
“Well, keep trying.”
“Thanks. Now go home.”
Jimmy nodded and backed out toward the door. “Give me a call if you need anything—anything at all. I’m at your disposal.” He smiled and left the room with a theatrical bow.
“Creep,” Conan mumbled, reaching for the phone. He hit Redial and waited for the longest few seconds of his life. When the ringing should have begun, it instead went straight to voicemail, shredding the remains of any hope he’d fought to keep.
Disappointed, he replaced the handset and cupped his face in his hands.
Where are you, Miss Black?
Chapter Seventeen
As midnight approached, the campfire party reached its peak. Most of the carnival staff were drunk. Some were dancing to the tunes of Lynyrd Skynyrd and Creedence, while others sat snacking on meats they’d roasted over the fire.
Evie—the only person who had refused to touch a drop of booze—sat watching them all. This was an entirely different lifestyle for her, and she could see herself enjoying it. The music was lively, the air smelled so good it made her hungry, and—for the most part—she was in good company.
The only unsettling thing sat stock-still in colorful skirts and jangling bangles.
Across the fire, the gypsy woman perched on the grass with her legs folded and her back so straight it looked painful. Her long black hair was matted to her face, and it seemed not to bother her. Her head tilted forward… but her eyes remained fixed on Evie.
Although it made her uncomfortable to do so, Evie stared back and refused to break the heated gaze. She wished she knew exactly what the gypsy’s problem was, if only to give her the opportunity of resolving it. She shied away from conflict, and this was absolute torture.
As if to relieve Jynx of her grudging duty, a tall bald man with impressive muscles leaned into her ear. His expression barely changed as he whispered something, but Jynx craned her neck to gawk at him. When the man nodded, Jynx got to her feet and walked slowly to the back of the party, disappearing into a nearby tent.
What exactly are you up to, you crazy bat?
Evie stared, waiting for Jynx to return. It began to look like it wouldn’t happen, and she contemplated going over there and having a snoop. It wouldn’t gain her any friends—she knew that much—but at least her curiosity would be satisfied. Steeling herself to get up, Evie counted to ten. She barely got to eight when a strong hand clapped onto her shoulder, making her jump and causing her to spill her plastic cup of lemonade.
“Oops, I didn’t mean to startle you.” It was Fry, looking a little wobbly in his posture. He’d clearly had a little to drink and then a little more. “Are you okay, Evie? You seem to be beside yourself.”
“Just watching.”
Fry followed her stare to the bald man. “That’s Lucas the Strongman. Not very bright, but worth his weight in gold. Listen, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m just… I need a break.”
He towered over her, gazing down with a look of genuine concern. “I understand.” He held out a hand, and she took it without pausing for thought. “Come, I have somewhere quiet we can go.”
Fry led Evie across the carnival site, down a large row of attractions that looked ghostly in their hibernation. Tomorrow night, when they opened for business, everything would roar to life, and Evie couldn’t wait to see it.
“Here we are.” Fry climbed the two narrow steps to a trailer. Decorated in twinkling lights, it stood out in a way that begged attention. He opened up the door and turned to help Evie up the step.
“What is this place?”
“It’s my trailer. What—you didn’t think I slept in a tent, did you?”
Evie smiled, embarrassed. “I guess not.” She looked around her, amazed by the décor. It sure didn’t look like a trailer on the inside—perfectly clean carpets, a smart TV, and a kitchen island made it look more like a home… albeit, a small one.
“Come and take a seat. Is there anything you’d—”
Perhaps it was a stupid thing to do, but Evie leaned in and kissed him, cutting him off midsentence. She wasn’t sure what had made her do it, but she simply couldn’t resist.
Fry kissed her back, cupping her cheek in his hand, holding her hip with the other.
And then Evie went a step further. She stepped back and pulled the door shut. Slowly, she unbuttoned her blouse, exposing her small breasts without a hint of shyness. Her top fluttered to the floor, but Fry’s eyes remained on hers.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
Evie didn’t reply. She just stepped forward, pressing her body against his and kissing him again, harder this time. As his soft hands caressed her skin, she thought about some of the mistakes she’d made recently and knew this wasn’t one of them.
She was sure of it.
Chapter Eighteen
Evie awoke before sunrise, straining to focus through the oppressive darkness. The party had simmered down, and there were only a few people remaining for the after-party. They were quieter than they’d been all night, but that hadn’t stopped her from waking up.
Evie glanced down at the softly snoring Fry, his face buried in a pillow. The soft whisper of the breeze through the open window fluttered the small hairs on his bare back. At least you can sleep, she thought, fumbling in the dark for her blouse and slipping it on.
As she turned, caught by a glimmer of light from the bright bulbs by the window, Evie noticed the picture frame. Displayed inside was a photo of a dark-haired woman of approximately Evie’s age. She was sitting on a bench with a book open across her lap, glancing up and biting at the corner of her lip. A little more worried than perhaps she should have been, Evie made a mental note to ask about the woman when she got t
he chance. For now, however, she quietly slipped outside and let the crisp morning air brush her face.
It was the perfect morning for a subtle stroll, and she began by heading back through the burned-out campfire. She stepped over a man whom she thought might be the resident clown, but it was hard to tell without his makeup. Up ahead, the tent loomed—the same one Jynx had used only hours ago. It stood unattended, and everyone in Evie’s vicinity was either passed out or too drunk to notice. Flicking a quick glance over her shoulder, she hurried across the grass, lifted up the flap, and slipped inside.
The rank, humid air reeked strongly of hay and something stale. Evie winced, rummaging around in the dark. She was desperate to find what the fuss was all about, and hell, she had a knack for sneaking into places. It seemed to give her new life through tense exhilaration.
Scrape.
Evie shot a look to the far end of the tent. It was as if something metallic had shifted. She took careful steps forward, edging her way toward the back. Pulling out her cell phone and using the gentle glow from its screen, she shined the light toward a wooden closet.
Dresses, she thought but wasn’t entirely convinced. After all, dresses didn’t clang. With her one free hand, Evie opened up the door, regretting it instantly.
Pans and trays tumbled out, smashing against each other and making a hell of a noise. Evie stumbled back, dropping her phone and falling onto the ground. Only it wasn’t the ground that she hit—she only wished it had been.
“It’s her,” a man said, wrapping his firm arms around her and holding her in place.
Evie’s pulse began to race, her mouth turning dry. The man—whose size made him easily identifiable as Lucas the Strongman—held her tight while Jynx stepped out in front of her, kneeling to pick up the fallen phone.
“What have we here?”
“That’s mine,” Evie said, trying to look innocent.
Hard Press: The Evie Black Files Page 18