Crescendo h-2

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Crescendo h-2 Page 28

by Becca Fitzpatrick


  “They don’t have security at Delphic,” I said, my mouth gone to dust. It was widely known that the park didn’t employ security, which was one of many reasons why my mom didn’t like me coming here.

  “Then get out of there,” he barked. “Drive back to Coldwater and meet me at the station. Can you do that?”

  Yes. I could do that. Vee would give me a ride. I was already walking in the direction she’d departed, eyes raking the crowd for her.

  Detective Basso exhaled. “You’re going to be fine. Just … hurry back here. I’ll send the rest of the force to Delphic to go after Scott. We’ll find him.” The anxiety in his voice didn’t console me.

  I hung up. Scott was out. The police were on their way, and this was all going to end fine … as long as I got out now. I sketched a quick plan. First, I had to find Vee. I also had to get out of the open. If Scott came walking down the path right this moment, he would see me.

  I was jogging toward the food vendors when my ribs were elbowed from behind. Something about the force of the elbowing told me this was more than an accident. I turned, and before I’d come full circle, my brain prickled as it registered a familiar face. The first thing I noticed was the flash from the silver hoop in his ear. The second thing I noticed was how beat-up his face was. His nose was broken—crooked and bruised deep red. The bruise spread below both eyes, turning a deep violet.

  The next thing I knew, Scott had me by the elbow and was steering me down the walkway.

  “Get your hands off me,” I said, wrestling against him. But Scott was stronger, and his grip held.

  “Sure, Nora, after you tell me where it is.”

  “Where what is?” I said, my voice passive-aggressive.

  He laughed humorlessly.

  I kept my expression as opaque as I could, but my thoughts were racing. If I told him the ring was at my home, he’d leave the park. He’d probably drag me with him. When the police arrived, they’d find us both gone. It wasn’t like I could call Detective Basso and tell him we were headed to my place. Not with Scott standing over me. No, I had to keep him here, in the park.

  “Did you give it to Vee’s boyfriend? Did you think he could protect it from me? I know he’s not—normal.” Scott’s eyes held that same terrified uncertainty. “I know he can do things other people can’t.”

  “Like you?”

  Scott glared down at me. “He’s not like me. He’s not the same. That much I can tell. I’m not going to hurt you, Nora. All I need is the ring. Give it to me, and you’ll never see me again.”

  He was lying. He would hurt me. He was desperate enough to break out of jail. Nothing was too extreme at this point—he would get the ring back, no matter the cost. Adrenaline pumped through my legs and I couldn’t think clearly. But somewhere in the back of my mind, my sense of survival told me I needed to take charge of the situation. I needed to find a way to separate myself from Scott. Blindly following my instincts, I said, “I have the ring.”

  “I know you have it,” he said impatiently. “Where?”

  “It’s here. I brought it with me.”

  He considered me for a moment, then yanked my handbag off my arm and ripped it open, searching it.

  I shook my head. “I threw it away.”

  He shoved the handbag back at me, and I caught it, clutching it against my chest. “Where?” he demanded.

  “A trash can near the entrance,” I said automatically. “Inside one of the women’s restrooms.”

  “Show me.”

  As we made our way down the walkway, I ordered myself to stay calm long enough to figure out my next move. Could I run? No, Scott would catch me. Could I hide out in one of the women’s restrooms? Not indefinitely, no. Scott wasn’t timid, and he wouldn’t have a problem going in after me if it meant getting what he wanted. I still had my cell phone, however. In the women’s room, I could call Detective Basso.

  “This one,” I said, pointing at one of the cinderblock shelters. The entrance to the women’s room was straight ahead, down a sloping stretch of cement, with the men’s room around the back.

  Scott grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. “Don’t lie to me. They’ll kill me if I lose it. If you’re lying to me, I’ll …” He caught himself, but I knew what he’d been about to say. If you’re lying to me, I’ll kill you.

  “It’s in the bathroom.” I nodded, more to convince myself I could do this than to reassure him. “I’ll go get it. And then you’ll leave me alone, right?”

  Instead of answering, Scott shoved out a hand, catching me in the navel. “Your cell.”

  My heart fumbled. Seeing no other choice, I retrieved my phone and held it out to him. My hand shook slightly, but I steadied it, refusing to let him know I’d had a plan, or that he’d just shattered it.

  “You’ve got one minute. Don’t try anything stupid.”

  Inside the restroom, I made a quick survey. Five sinks against one wall, and five stalls opposite them. Two college-age girls were at the sinks, a foam of bubbles covering their hands. There was a small window on the far wall, and it was cranked open. Without eating up any more time, I got my foot up on the last sink and pulled myself to standing. The window was level with my elbows now, and while there wasn’t a screen to block me, it was going to be a tight fit to squeeze through. I could feel the eyes of everyone on me, but I ignored them and hoisted myself up on the ledge, hardly aware of the splattered bird poop or spiderwebs.

  When I pushed on the open windowpane, it popped free and fell to the ground outside with a clatter. I sucked in a breath, thinking Scott had heard, but the crowds out on the walkways had stifled the sound. Propping my stomach on the windowsill, I lifted my left leg up, cramming it against my body until I was able to roll it through the window. I wiggled the rest of the way through, my right leg sliding out last. I hung from the windowsill by my fingers, then dropped to the sidewalk outside. I stayed in a crouch a moment, half expecting Scott to round the building.

  Then I ran toward the park’s main walkway and slipped inside the stream of the crowd.

  CHAPTER 22

  DARKNESS WAS STRETCHING ACROSS THE SKY, eclipsing the pale streaks of light fanning out from the horizon. I walked in a hurry toward the park’s exit. I could see the gates ahead. Almost there. I was pushing through the fringe of the crowd when I came up short. Less than two hundred feet away, Scott was pacing the gates, his eyes sweeping the crush of bodies pouring in and out of the gates. He’d figured out I’d escaped the bathroom and was blocking the only way out of the park. A high chain-link fence topped with barbed wire encircled the park, and the only way I was getting out was through the exit gates. I knew it, and Scott knew it.

  I turned abruptly and melted back into the crowd, checking behind me every few seconds to make sure Scott hadn’t spotted me.

  I worked my way deeper into the park on the assumption that the last place I had seen Scott was at the gates, and it was in my best interest to get as far away from them as I could. I could hide in the darkness of the fun house until the police arrived, or I could take the sky ride above the park, where I might be able to see Scott below and keep an eye on him. As long as he didn’t look up, I’d be fine. Of course, if he did see me, I had no doubt he’d be waiting for me at the end of the ride. I decided to keep moving, stay in the heaviest pockets of traffic, and wait this out.

  The walkway split at the Ferris wheel, one path branching off toward the water rides, the other leading to the Archangel roller coaster. I’d just veered onto the latter when I saw Scott. He saw me, too. We were on parallel walkways, the chair lift to the sky ride separating us. A boy and girl took their seats on a chair as it swung around the conveyor, momentarily breaking our eye contact. I took that moment to run.

  I shoved my way through the crowd, but the walkways were congested, making it hard to move faster than stop-and-go. Worse, the walkways in this section of the park were lined with high hedges, squeezing traffic through the labyrinth of twists and turns. I didn’t d
are look behind me, but I knew Scott couldn’t be far behind. He wouldn’t try anything in front of all these people, would he? I shook my head to flush out the thought, and concentrated instead on where I was going. I’d been to Delphic only three or four times before, always at night, and I didn’t know the layout well. I could have kicked myself for not grabbing a map on my way in. I found it absurdly ironic that thirty seconds ago I’d been running away from the exit; now getting to it was the only thing on my mind.

  “Hey! Watch out!”

  “Excuse me,” I said, breathless. “Which way to the exit?”

  “Where’s the fire, man?”

  I fought my way past the crowd. “Excuse me. I have to get through … excuse me.” Above the hedges, the lights of the rides blazed and glittered against the backdrop of night. I paused at an intersection, trying to orient myself. Left or right? Which would get me to the exit faster?

  “There you are.” Scott’s breath warmed my ear. He laid his hand on my neck, sending a spike of chills ricocheting to the bone.

  “Help!” I shouted on instinct. “Someone help me!”

  “My girlfriend,” Scott explained to the few people who’d paused long enough to direct their attention at us. “This is a game we play.”

  “I’m not his girlfriend!” I shouted in a panic. “Get your hands off me!”

  “Come here, sweetheart.” Scott wrestled me into his arms, pinning me against him. “I warned you not to lie to me,” he murmured in my ear. “I need the ring. I don’t want to hurt you, Nora, but I will, if you make me.”

  “Get him off me!” I shouted to anyone who would listen.

  Scott wrenched my arm behind my back. I spoke through gritted teeth, trying to battle the pain. “Are you insane?” I said. “I don’t have the ring. I gave it to the police. Last night. Go get it from them.”

  “Quit lying!” he growled.

  “Call them yourself. It’s the truth. I gave it to them. I don’t have it.” I shut my eyes, praying he believed me and released my arm.

  “Then you’re going to help me get it back.”

  “They aren’t going to give it to me. It’s evidence. I told them it was your ring.”

  “They’ll give it back,” he said slowly, as if he was forming a plan as he went. “If I trade you for the ring.”

  It all clicked into place. “You’re going to hold me hostage? Trade me for the ring? Help!” I screamed. “Somebody get him off me!”

  One of the people standing nearby laughed.

  “This isn’t a joke!” I yelled, feeling blood rise in my neck, terror and desperation scraping away at me. “Get him off—”

  Scott sealed his hand over my mouth, but I got my foot up and kicked him in the shin. He gave a grunt of pain and buckled in half.

  His arms loosened slightly in the surprise of the attack, and I shoved myself free. I fumbled back a step, watching agony twist on his face, then turned and bolted, seeing glimpses of the rides through the gaps in the crowd. All I had to do was make it out. The police had to be close. Then I’d be safe. Safe. I repeated the word frantically as motivation to keep my head and not succumb to panic. There was a wan light left in the western sky, and I used it to orient myself north. If I continued north, the pathway would eventually deliver me to the gates.

  An explosion shattered my ear. It startled me so much, I tripped and went down on my knees. Or maybe I’d acted reflexively, because there were others around me who’d dropped to the pavement too. There was a moment of hair-raising quiet, and then everyone was screaming and scrambling in every direction.

  “He’s got a gun!” The words blurred together in my ears, sounding so very far away.

  Even though not one part of me wanted to, I found myself turning back. Scott was clutching his side, bright red liquid flowering through his shirt. His mouth was open, his eyes wide with shock.

  He went down on one knee, and I saw someone standing several yards behind him, holding a gun. Rixon. Vee was at his side, her hands clamped over her mouth, her face as white as a sheet.

  There was a chaotic stampede of feet and limbs and panicked, chilling screams, and I scooted to the side of the path, trying to avoid getting trampled on.

  “He’s getting away!” I heard Vee shriek. “Someone get him!”

  Rixon fired several shots, but this time nobody dropped. In fact, the rush to get out intensified. I pulled myself to standing and looked back to where I’d last seen Rixon and Vee. The echo of the shots still pealed in my ears, but I read the words as they fell from Rixon’s lips. Over here. He flagged his free arm through the air. In what felt like in slow motion, I fought the stream of traffic and ran to him.

  “What the hell?!” Vee shrieked. “Why did you shoot him, Rixon?”

  “Citizen’s arrest,” he said. “Well, that, and Patch told me to.”

  “You can’t shoot people just because Patch says to!” Vee said, her eyes wild. “You’re going to get arrested. What are we doing to do now?” she moaned.

  “The police are on their way,” I said. “They know about Scott.”

  “We have to get out of here!” said Vee, still hysterical, flapping her arms and pacing a few feet, only to spin back and come back to where she’d started. “I’ll take Nora to the police station. Rixon, go get Scott, but don’t shoot him again—tie him up like last time!”

  “Nora can’t use the gates,” Rixon said. “That’s what he’ll expect. I know another way out. Vee, get the Neon and meet us at the south end of the parking lot, near the Dumpsters.”

  “How are you going to get out?” Vee wanted to know.

  “Through the underground tunnels.”

  “There are tunnels under Delphic?” Vee asked.

  Rixon kissed her forehead. “Hurry, love.”

  The crowd had scattered, leaving the pathway empty. I could still hear panicked shrieks and screams echoing down the walkway, but they sounded a world away. Vee hesitated a moment, then gave a resolute nod. “Just hurry, okay?”

  “There’s a mechanical room in the basement of the fun house,” Rixon explained to me as we walked in a hurry down the opposite pathway. “It has a door leading into the tunnels under Delphic. Scott may have heard of the tunnels, but if he figures out where we’ve gone and follows us, there’s no way he’ll find us. It’s like a maze down there, and it goes on for miles.” He gave a nervous smile. “Don’t worry, Delphic was built by fallen angels. Not me in particular, but a few of my mates helped. I know the routes by heart. Er, mostly.”

  CHAPTER 23

  AS WE DREW CLOSER TO THE GRINNING CLOWN’S head leading inside the fun house, the distant screams were replaced by creepy music-box carnival music, tinkling loudly from the bowels of the fun house. I stepped through the mouth, and the floor shifted. I reached out to steady myself, but the walls turned, rolling under my hands. As my eyes adjusted to the traces of light filtering through the mouth of the clown behind me, I saw that I was inside a revolving barrel that seemed to stretch on forever. The barrel was painted with alternating stripes of red and white, and they blurred together into a dizzying pink.

  “Here,” Rixon said, guiding me through the barrel.

  I put one foot in front of the other, sliding and blundering forward. At the end, I stepped out to solid ground, only to have a jet of icy air shoot up from the floor. The cold licked my skin, and I jumped sideways with a startled gasp.

  “It’s not real,” Rixon assured me. “We have to keep going. If Scott decides to search the tunnels, we have to beat him inside.”

  The air was stale and humid, and smelled of rust. The clown’s head was a distant memory now. The only light came from red bulbs in the cavernous ceiling that blazed to life just long enough to spotlight a dangling skeleton, unraveling zombie, or vampire rising from a coffin.

  “How much farther?” I asked Rixon over the distorted cacophony of hoots, cackles, and wails that echoed all around.

  “The mechanical room is just ahead. After that, we’ll be in t
he tunnels. Scott’s bleeding pretty bad. He won’t die—Patch has told you all about Nephilim, right?—but he could pass out from loss of blood. Chances are, he won’t find an entrance to the tunnels before he does. We’ll be back above ground before you know it.” His confidence sounded slightly inflated, a little too optimistic.

  We pushed on, and I felt the eerie sensation that we were being followed. I spun back, but the darkness was consuming. If someone was back there, I couldn’t see.

  “Do you think Scott could have followed us?” I asked Rixon, keeping my voice low.

  Rixon stopped, turned back. Listened. After a moment, he said with certainty, “There’s no one there.”

  We were continuing our hurried pace toward the mechanical room, when I once again felt a presence behind me. My scalp tingled, and I cut a look over my shoulder. This time, the outline of a face materialized through the darkness. I almost cried out, and then the outline solidified into a distinct and familiar face.

  My dad.

  His blond hair was bright against the darkness, his eyes shining, yet sad. I love you.

  “Dad?” I whispered. But I took a cautionary step back. I reminded myself of the last times. He was a trick. A lie.

  I’m sorry I had to leave you and your mom.

  I willed him to disappear. He wasn’t real. He was a threat. He wanted to hurt me. I remembered the way he’d yanked my arm through the townhouse window and tried to cut me. I remembered how he’d chased me through the library.

  But his voice was the same gentle coaxing he’d used that very first time at the townhouse. Not the stern, sharp voice that had replaced it. It was his voice.

  I love you, Nora. Whatever happens, promise me you’ll remember that. I don’t care how or why you came into my life, only that you did. I don’t remember all the things I did wrong. I remember what I did right. I remember you. You made my life meaningful. You made my life special.

  I shook my head, trying to sweep out his voice, wondering why Rixon wasn’t saying anything—couldn’t he see my dad? Wasn’t there anything we could do to make him go away? But the truth of the matter was, I didn’t want his voice to stop. I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted him to be real. I needed him to wrap his arms around me and tell me everything was going to be all right. Most of all, I longed for him to come home.

 

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