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Rodrigo ran in and stopped mid-stride as he spotted my tears. He quickly ran up to us, kneeling before me. I smiled at him, stroking his bearded cheek. He always looked so innocent, so loyal.
“Can I get you anything, my Mistress?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ll be alright.”
Rodrigo turned to Lazarus and frowned. “They’re taking her down now. The crowd has left, all that remains are the people in the back dungeons. But none are the wiser there, they didn’t witness it.”
I nodded. “That’s good.”
The stage was set in the main tent, there were several stages that surrounded it, cages hung from the beams, filled with beautiful erotic dancers. Different scenes were always played out, and the paths that lead from the tent, what we named the dungeons, they were kept private. Only those that paid for special services were allowed back there and just as they couldn’t hear the commotion up front, we couldn’t hear their screams out back.
Something in me roused and I leapt up from the chair, running through the tents and down toward the path.
“Imogen!” Lazarus shouted for me as both he and Rodrigo ran after me.
I slowed down as we approached. Usually, by now, we’d be able to hear screams of pleasure, or shouts of orgasms. Moans and groans. Something. But tonight, everything had fallen silent.
Lazarus and Rodrigo froze on either side of me. “Something’s wrong,” I whispered to them.
“I can feel it,” Rodrigo responded quietly.
We entered the first structure. A demon fun house with crooked gates. The harlot that usually stood at the entrance was nowhere to be found. There was an eerie silence as we entered.
“Maybe they left,” Lazarus whispered, yet there was uncertainty etched in his tone.
We walked through the doors carefully. The heaviness in the air alerted us to something menacing.
“Should I go get the Ringmaster?” Rodrigo asked as we faced the first door.
I didn’t respond because I wasn’t sure what to do. Lazarus stepped in front of me, shielding me with his broad back. His hand landed on the door, and he leaned forward, pressing his ear to it.
“Do you hear anything?” I whispered.
He held his hand up, silencing me, and then he opened the door. It creaked open so slowly, I could feel the energy build up as both Lazarus and Rodrigo became anxious. The door swung open into darkness and emptiness. We let out a whoosh of air, we didn’t know we were holding.
A gurgling sound interrupted the relief we felt. It came from another room down the hallway. The shadows began to shift in my peripheral and I held onto Rodrigo and Lazarus, pressing them close to me, afraid what lurked in the darkness would reach out for them.
We approached the door, the whirring of a generator startled us, and we looked back behind us, expecting to see something or someone standing there. The lights flickered on and off. Something that was normal, now seemed ominous.
Lazarus was at the door, and just as he went to open it, Rodrigo grabbed his arm, stopping him.
“What? What is it?”
Rodrigo’s eyes were encompassed by fear. “Nothing good is on the other side of that door.”
Lazarus nodded. “I feel it too. But we need to know.”
Rodrigo slowly removed his hand and stood facing the hallway. The door swung open and both Lazarus and I froze. A King bed sat in the center of the room. On it was a man, he was chained to the best posts. His head hung low as he was splayed out on his knees. His cock was in the woman’s mouth, but she wasn’t moving.
Lazarus moved toward them, assessing the room, and he carefully approached.
“Jesus,” he muttered.
I walked over to him, only to witness another horrific sight. The girl’s eyes were once again gouged out, the man’s member was stiff and bloodied, and her mouth had been sliced open on the sides. But that wasn’t what killed her, the stab wounds in her chest and abdomen showed the trauma she’d endured before the staging.
Lazarus looked up at Rodrigo who stood in the doorway. “I knew it,” Rodrigo whispered.
“Let’s go.” Lazarus took me by the arm and as we made our way out the structure a scream froze us in place. It came from the structure across from us. The Harlot’s House, an old Victorian looking structure, imitating an old brothel. I ran in, searching for the one who screamed. I burst in through the doors on the first floor but found nothing. I climbed the stairs, needing to get there as fast as I could. Lazarus and Rodrigo called after me, trying to get to me as fast as they could.
