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We’d lost three people, possibly four. There was someone cooking gourmet meals, another lurking with arrows, and a person donning a mask like some creepy ass phantom.
I had no idea how any of this correlated, but it wasn’t my main concern at the moment. I just wanted to get the fuck out of here—here being this strange ass city. I took approximately five steps before Ciaran’s voice was carrying from behind me.
“Puppet.”
The way he said it had a chill skirting down my spine. I told myself not to stop, but my legs quit moving forward anyway.
Gracelyn slowed behind me, placing her hands on my hips like she used to when we were young and would go wandering in the woods. I waited, allowing Ciaran to move up beside us.
“You wanna lead?” I guessed.
“Nah,” he replied, sidling past me, close enough that his cool breath fanned across my face. “I want to keep you safe.”
“I think I can do that myself, but I am curious as to why you’d risk your safety for mine.”
“What makes you think I’m risking anything? Maybe I just know what’s best for you, puppet.”
“Stop calling me that.” I scowled at the back of his head. “And that doesn’t even make sense.”
“It will,” Maverick replied for him, moving past us on my other side. Charon and Kyrous were right behind him.
Whatever. If they wanted to be in front, that was more than fine with me. I didn’t even know where we were going. Plus, they could be shields if shit hit the fan.
“Those boys are too arrogant,” Susan huffed.
“They’re something,” Leonard agreed. “You gals go ahead; I’ll spot us from the back.”
I wasn’t going to object to that either. The more eyes the better. Abby already wasn’t going to do anyone any good right now.
As we followed the guys, Margo stayed with her, lending a shoulder to cry on.
The garden’s path wound around a small bend and continued back towards the street. From what I could see through a gap in the fluffy rose bushes, we were going to emerge on the other side of the barrier out front.
“Does anyone hear that?” Mel asked after a minute.
I glanced at her over my left shoulder. “No. What is it?”
Her brows slanted in thought. “…I know the melody, but I can’t place it.”
“Sounds like an ice cream truck,” Selena suggested.
“Why would one of those be in here?”
“Why is any of this crap in here?” Margo muttered.
“Touché,” I quipped, looking forward just as I slammed into one of the twins.
“Shit, sorry,” I cursed, grabbing onto his arm so I didn’t fall on my ass and take Gracelyn with me.
“You’re good,” Charon assured, offering a small smile. “Yo, why did you—what the hell is that?”
Realizing it wasn’t just him who had stopped abruptly, I poked my head around his and his brother’s unmoving forms.
It was easy to spot what had caused Ciaran to freeze in place.
“What’s happening?” Leonard called from the behind us.
“There’s a clown or something standing at the end of the walkway,” Gracelyn answered, speaking loud enough for anyone that couldn’t see around the bend to hear.
Her words prompted a girl to step forward. At first, her face became partially obscured by the shadows dancing through the garden, but then she shuffled forward a bit more and the lamppost near the curb was enough to illuminate her features.
That dim hue made her appear all the paler, but it was clear that she was wearing thick white make-up. Each eye was in the center of a black cross, and her mouth had a Joker-esque grin painted on either side.
I think she had on some sort of dress, but I couldn’t tell for sure. The red and white fabric was skintight and pleated. Her hair was pulled back in two tight buns.
Clasped in her left hand was a bundle of black balloons. In the right, something that strongly resembled a pickax.
“We should turn back,” Susan suggested, her voice starting to shake.
“No,” I whispered. “You never turn your back on someone holding a deadly weapon.”
“You just happened to know that?” Charon mumbled.
“I play a lot of video games,” I lied.
“Is that an ice cream truck?” Maverick asked, his gaze trained on the girl staring back at us.
I finally detected the melody Mel and Selena had just brought up. It sounded more like a mixture between that and the tune of a carousel. There was a low rumble accompanying it.
“He wants to play,” the creepy clown bitch sang, dragging out every word.
Grinning manically, she began to walk backward.
“Who wants to play?” Ciaran asked her.
“They’re coming…!” she sung louder, then turned to skip off.
“We need to go,” Ciaran ordered, surging forward as soon as clown girl vanished from view. There was no argument to be had; it was clearly in our best interests to move our asses.
