I shove the thought from my mind as Ace and I catch up to Karter and Cynthia.
There’s a wall of black before us, and when I glance down, I see only a marginal space beneath, yawning into a void.
Suddenly, I put the pieces together as Karter bangs on the solid wall to no avail.
“You have tocrawl,”the clown hisses, his voice warped and raspy.
Cynthia shakes her head. “Nope. Not doing that.” She glances at us. “I can’t do that.”
I nod once. “Raise your hands.” It was the cue they gave us before we entered. If we get too scared or don’t want to keep going, we’re to lift both hands in surrender. I thought it was a way to freak us out and get us psyched to be terrified, but I don’t really blame Cyn, although I’m definitely going.
“Sorry,” she mouths. “I’ll see you in the lounge.” There’s a bar after all of this, and they told us they would escort us there if we didn’t make it through.
I nod once, and the clown laughs at Cynthia, but gestures toward the old man behind us, heading toward a hidden exit door in the wall.
For one fleeting moment, I think of taking it. But then Karter gets down on her hands and knees, then her belly—she wouldn’t make it through otherwise; as small as the space is, we’ll all have to crawl on our stomachs—and starts to slip beneath the wall.
If she’s doing it, I’m doing it.
I glance up at Ace. “See you on the other side?”
His eyes are wide, and I think he might chicken out too, but then he just nods. “Be careful.” And he lets my hand go.
I drop to my knees, grateful for all the yoga I’ve done from my MacBook in Darkmouth’s living room. The scent of dust and fake fog and iron fills my nose as I lower myself further, to my chest. My heart thuds frantically in my ears and it’s hard to focus.
There’s nothing but yawning darkness ahead and the sound of screams and too loud, piano driven, eerie music.
My panic spikes as I realize, halfway under the wall, there are three tunnel-like paths to choose from, and I’m on the far left one.
I don’t know if I’ll end up in the same room as Karter and Ace but they have to be close, right? Maybe the three branches feed into one room at the end of a short hallway? I mean, how intricate can this be?
It’s a castle, Neve. It can be a maze.
Spots and shapes form in front of my eyes like they’re closed and my breathing grows shallow. My gloves are on, and I’m grateful every inch of me but my face is covered or this narrow crevice and contact with the marble floor would make it so much worse.
Yet when I arch up in a semblance of an upward dog pose and find I can—slowly—get to my feet, my panic only skyrockets.
I can see nothing. Hear nothing, except screaming from underneath where I just crawled. It’s like I’m in a void.
My mouth goes dry. My chest rises and falls too fast. We had to leave our phones with our toques and outer coats and I start to think maybe they set this up to murder all of us.
My mind flickers to Jackson in the grass.
Not now. Not here.
I turn around, intending to crawl back under the wall and find my way to the entrance, then out of this damn castle, when the wall just… drops. With a clang.
No.
I dart toward it anyway and try to push.
It doesn’t budge.
I hit the heel of my hand along it, then I smack it again. And again. But it feels like iron and my hands grow sore and I start to think I’m going to have to take down some clowns when— Someone grabs me. From behind.
The taste of terror floods my mouth and ice flows through my veins. My mind flickers to Sylvan this morning but the person behind me laughs and it’s wicked and distorted and it’s not Sylvan Connor.
Right now, I wish it was.
