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We picked our way through the maze of bodies like a minefield, trying not to touch them, and keeping our eyes peeled for the slightest twitch.
My heart raced in anticipation, the blood rush in my ears making it almost impossible to hear. Where the fuck were they? What were they waiting for?
A dark tunnel yawned up ahead, screams and hysterical laughter echoing down the corridor. I nudged Malcolm toward it.
The rotting clown lunged at me from the right, his bony fingers digging into my arm. I tried to jerk away, but his broken, dirty nails clenched harder, dragging me to the darkest side of the room. As much as I didn’t want to go with him, I’d expected something like this to happen sooner or later, based on the sign the headless ballerina had pointed out when we first walked in. My only hope was that Taylor had caught up with Malcolm and the two of them would stay together for the rest of the haunted house.
As soon as the clown stepped over the shadowy line, disappearing into the blackness, a giant knife slashed downward from the other side.
The blade cut clean through, severing his arm above the elbow. Blood sprayed from the stump, gushing to the floor like someone had turned on a faucet. Hot sticky droplets landedon the side of my face. The vice-like fingers loosened and the clown’s hand dropped uselessly to the floor while the clown howled, almost inhuman.
The masked man stepped out of the black void, blood dripping from the end of the machete. His free hand had balled into a fist and his dark brows slanted sharply over his eyes as he regarded the clown, his chest rising and falling rapidly. When Bane’s gaze shifted to mine, it didn’t linger as it had before. It swept over me from head to toe and back again. I smiled at him, grateful for the “assistance,” but also impressed as hell. The effects in this place were out of this world. They must have used a prosthetic limb or something to make it feel so real when the clown grabbed me. Even the blood smelled real, that hot, metallic scent I’d grown accustomed to when processing fresh game.
Snatching his dismembered arm from the ground, the clown snarled like an animal at my rescuer and disappeared into the darkness.
“Thanks,” I said at last.
The masked man took a step closer, his head tilting as his dark eyes roved my face. His brows—and his breathing—had gone back to normal. Aside from his costume and all of the blood, he didn’t look quite so murderous anymore.
“You guys really go all out,” I added, feeling the need to fill the silence. By silence, I meant him not speaking. There were plenty of screams and evil laughs echoing around us, though, surprisingly, no one else had entered the mannequin room.
Wiping his bloody hand on his jeans, Bane reached for my face. I eyed it as it came closer, but I didn’t move, even as my heart skipped a beat, or ten.
Swiping his thumb over my cheekbone, he wiped it clean against his thigh. I, stupidly, touched my face and looked downat my fingers. There was nothing there anymore, though, for a moment, I wished there was.
“Thanks,” I murmured again, unsure whether I should stay or carry on my merry way.
As if he could read my mind—or the uncertainty on my face—the masked guy took two steps to the right and used the edge of his stained machete to push a black curtain open. Beyond it, more neon colors glowed in the dark, marking out a hallway.
Not wanting to thank him for a third time like an idiot, I nodded and stepped past him. A whiff of dark earthiness flooded my nostrils. Rich and mossy with a hint of smoke. I glanced behind me as the curtain swished shut. Bane was gone.
Outside, I found Malcolm and Taylor standing under one of the leaning light poles, hands flapping, clearly in the midst of an argument. As soon as he saw me, Malcolm glared and turned his wrath on me. “You said you wouldn’t leave me, you dick!”
“I was—the dudegrabbedme! It’s not like I did it intentionally.” I gestured helplessly at the haunted house, staring at him like he’d managed to have a lobotomy in the past few minutes. “And I thought Taylor was right behind you!”
“Nah, some Harley Quinn-looking chick herded me in the opposite direction.” Taylor shrugged, swinging the tail end of his stuffed snake around, already bored with Malcolm’s bitching.
“Let’s just chill for a bit.” I clapped Malcolm on the shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Come on. I haven’t eaten yet. Remember?”
“Fine.” Malcolm rolled his eyes and spun on the ball of his foot, marching back to the food area. As we walked, I offered him my stuffed rabbit.
“Do you want to hold him?”
“Or do you want to hold my snake?” Taylor wagged his stuffed snake at Malcolm suggestively.
Malcolm scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fuck off. Dicks.”
“I’ll hold your snake,” I replied with a grin, elbowing Taylor.
“Of course your gay ass would,” Taylor laughed. “Sure we can’t get you a fried pickle while we’re here? Or one of those corndogs?”
“Ooo baby. Now you’re speaking my language.”
“Anything for a little meat in your mouth, huh?”
“You know it.”
“Oh my God,” Malcolm whispered to himself, hunching his shoulders, like he could physically block out the conversation.
