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Then I see this bright-pink neon shape, an outline of an old crone wagging her finger at a crystal ball.
MADAM GHIZZY REVEALS YOUR FUTURE! the sign proclaims proudly.
Oh.
Some cheesy fortune shop. Looks like it’s connected to a whole mall of overpriced gimmicks.
Totally the dumb tourist trap Delia might stumble into if she wants a closer look.
The door is unlocked when I pull. I walk into this vacant mall that looks dark and abandoned. There’s not even a door concealing the entrance to the fortune teller’s place, but a cheap burgundy curtain.
Everything smells dank and funky on the other side. I nearly trip on some old boards pulled up from the floor.
Fucking hell.
Looks like Madam Ghizzy hasn’t been telling fortunes for a while, and this place hasn’t been secured by the city.
Adrenaline spikes through my system as I scan the darkness, looking for movement, for her.
Would Delia have really gone so far knowing how creepy this place looks?
An icicle pierces my gut as I press on, turning another corner.
It’s like a small theater inside, several rooms full of beat-up seats and separate stages. Looks like they used to do magic shows or something in here.
It’s dark and seedy as shit.
What the hell was she thinking?
Panic swarms my brain and I breathe deeply.
That’s when I notice something reeks, and it’s mighty hard to care about anything except finding Delia safe.
Unlike the streets, where there’s always some noise, this place is too quiet.
With a heavy sigh, I know what I need to do.
I cup my hands over my mouth and yell.
“Delia? Cordelia! Are you in here?” My voice echoes through the stillness, bouncing off tight walls. “Where the fuck are you?” I mutter when nothing comes back.
Every nerve in my body sharpens.
Around the corner, there’s a narrow hallway with some dingy restrooms. I wonder if she got lost in here, or maybe she went hunting for a real bathroom.
The girl drank like a fish earlier. We only made a quick pit stop before leaving the casino over an hour ago.
I walk up to the women’s room and press my ear to the barely hanging door, listening for Delia, foranything.
Then I hear it.
This weird smacking sound, like somebody tossing meat down on a cutting board, followed by a low, angry voice.
“Shut the fuck up. Stop struggling, bitch, or we’ll flay you wide open. Cooperate, and maybe you’ll see your family again. Fuck around and you bleed out on the floor here with the roaches. Choose wisely.”
My teeth pinch together so hard they’re about to break.
I squat down, ripping the knife out of its holster around my ankle. I carry it everywhere in public like this, feeling naked without it.
