The Venatores sent some men in for cleanup, and that was it. No one ever reported the guy missing, or if they did, the Venatores covered it up.
I saw the girl a few years later, around town with some friends. Living her life carefree like any teenager should be allowed to.
I’ve worked with the Venatores ever since. First just as a soldier, but now also as a tech guy sometimes. They send thefair all around the country, and I usually just have to wait for my target to walk into the house.
And my current target almost definitely will. He seems to hang around places like fairs and camps often. So the girl who reported him probably isn’t his only victim.
He got off, though, because she had just celebrated her eighteenth birthday that day and he convinced everyone she had been flirting with him all summer. Asking for it.
Same fucking thing all these disgusting men say.
After I’ve read a bit more about where this guy works and am certain I’ll recognize him when he comes through, I shoot back the rest of my drink and close my laptop.
I pour myself another drink and sit out on the back porch. It’s a cold night, typical for spring in Ridgewater, but the fresh air is nice. My thoughts drift to Violet. I wonder if I’ll see her while I’m in town. I hope I do, and if Alyssa has any say in things, I definitely will. But I’m also not sure what I would even say to Violet if I did see her.
Chapter Four
Violet
THE NEXT MORNING,I meet the chief of the local paper in his office for our weekly check-in. I’m an arts and culture reporter, and I love what I do. I get to go to all the local events and meet people who are passing through. It makes living in a small town like Ridgewater more interesting.
“I want the behind-the-scenes details,” the chief tells me as I sit in front of his desk, getting the rundown of what he expects from my article on the Carnival of Devils. “They’re finishing setting up today. Get down there and see what you can find. How their attractions work, what the carnies are like without the ghost and ghoul makeup. Something more interesting than ‘there’s a fair in town.’ Everyone writes articles like that when this fair comes to their town. I want something more.”
I’ve always loved that, even though we’re a small town paper, the chief never has small expectations for our stories. He wants the juicy details, the actual news, the interestingfeatures. Our paper has won multiple regional journalism awards under his guidance, and I love being a part of his newsroom.
“You got it, chief.” I give him a mock salute and click my pen, rising to leave.
I head straight to the fairgrounds on the outskirts of town. Usually, this place is just an empty lot, except for the one week in August when we host the county fair, or during elections. It’s nice that the space will be used for something fun.
All of the fair has already been set up, a maze of buildings with all things Halloween decorating them. It looks like October, but it’s only April. There’s even some jack-o’-lanterns lining the pathway from the entrance to the main path. I turn left, toward where I know the main office and ticket booth are, hoping to find someone I can interview.
Behind the desk in the main office sits a man who I would never in a million years expect to run a haunted fair like this. He’s older, probably in his late fifties, but he’s still extremely handsome and muscled. He wears an all-black suit and has a glass of what I think is scotch on the desk. He looks like he should be preparing for a boardroom meeting, not organizing a bunch of scare actors and carnival games.
I tap lightly on the open door, and his head turns up, his eyes taking me in.
“Can I help you?” His deep voice is raspy.
“Hi, I’m Violet Higgins.” I give a little wave. “I’m with theRidgewater Tribune, and I’m writing a piece on the Carnival of Devils. Do you mind if I walk around and talk to some of the workers?”
“Oh, yes, your chief called me earlier to tell me you’d be here. It’s no problem at all, most of them are finished with setup. But just make sure to stay out of the way, I’d hate for you to get hurt here.” He flashes me a smile that exposes his bright-white teeth.
I give him a polite smile in return. “Thanks. Any suggestions on where I should start?”
“The haunted house is our most popular attraction,” he tells me. “But the guy who runs it is a bit of a recluse. If you manage to talk to him, he’ll want to remain anonymous. But I can give you a quote about his house if you need it.”
“Oh, why’s that?” I can’t help but ask, my journalistic curiosity getting the best of me.
The man shrugs. “Just doesn’t like to be on the public side of things wherever we take this thing. But his house brings lots of guests, so I let him do as he pleases.”
“Interesting . . . Well, thank you so much for your time, sir. Could you point me in the direction of this haunted house?” I ask.
“Sure, it’s straight to the back, hang a right.” He points in the general direction. “It’s the largest attraction we have, other than the rides, so you can’t miss it.”
“Thanks again. I hope the fair is a success!” I tell him.
I make my way out of the office, pulling my jacket a little tighter as a breeze hits me when I step outside. I walk through rows of games—all the typical carnival games, but with spooky twists, and the prizes are all Halloween-esque stuffies. A plush ghost. A spider with spindly, prickly legs that’s bigger than my head.
Alyssa is going to love this.
