Page 191 of Stay Scared

Rook’s beak turns. “No speech?”

“You heard me.” The knife lifts. Ash moves before it reaches me. He catches Rook’s forearm with both hands and drives it upward. The point misses my thigh by inches. Rook launches across the carriage, and Ash takes the impact. His back slams into the side panel. The old vehicle sways on the track. Metal shrieks beneath us. Rook punches the knife downward. Ash catches his wrist again. Their hands shake above Ash’s chest while blood runs between Ash’s fingers. I grab Rook’s coat and pull. He swings the bar backward, catching me across the forearm. My hand goes numb. Ash uses the opening. His forehead smashes into the beak, and plastic cracks. Rook recoils. Ash surges after him. The carriage drops suddenly down a slope. All three of us lift against the lap bar. Rook crashes backward into his seat, and Ash nearly goes over him. The knife clatters against the carriage floor. I kick it. It slides beneath Rook’s boot. He stomps down. Ash sees it. Rook sees him looking. The carriage slams into the lower curve. Ash’s injured side hits the bar, and his strength disappears for one second. Rook grabs his hair and drives his face toward the carriage wall. I seize Rook’s wrist. He backhands me. My head snaps sideways. A mirror flashes past outside the carriage. For a second, I see all three of us: Rook crouched forward, Ash bleeding, me with one hand braced against the rusted floor. Nobody looks philosophical. The ride straightens. Ash wipes blood from his mouth. Rook retrieves the knife. His beak is cracked near one eye now. One strap hangs loose.

“You want her alive?” Rook asks.

Ash looks at him. “Yes, I do.”

“Then stop making me correct you.” Ash leans back against the carriage. He looks spent. I’ve learned better. His fingers have slipped beneath the loose lap bar. He is measuring it. Rook misses the movement. I catch it. The carriage starts climbing. Mechanical teeth catch beneath the floor one by one. Rook’s radio bumps against his coat with each jolt.

I keep looking at his mask. “What happens when the ride stops?”

“You get a choice.” Ash glances toward me. I ignore him.

“What choice?”

“You walk out alone.” Rook taps the radio. “Or you stay with them when the police arrive.” I laugh. The sound is uglier than I expect.

“That’s your offer?”

His knife turns in his hand. “You think this is funny?”

“I think you rebuilt a condemned carnival ride to give me an ultimatum.” Rook leans toward me. The cracked beak fills my vision.

“You still do not understand how little is left for you.” Ash’s hand shifts under the bar. One inch.

I keep Rook looking at me. “What do you want me to say?”

His posture changes. “Tell them Crimson Night held you.”

“It did.” Ash glances at me. Rook waits.

“Tell them Mercer hurt you.”

My arm throbs where the bar hit it. “Cade hurt me.”

Rook leans closer. “Shaw watched you.”

“He did.”

“Ash built the trap.” Ash’s fingers stop under the lap bar. I look at him, then back at Rook.

“Ash built Crimson Night.” Rook’s knife hand rises.

“You want a cleaner sentence than you earned.” The blade comes close to my face. Ash moves. His hand explodes upward beneath the loose lap bar. The metal catches Rook’s forearm, jerking his knife sideways. Ash grabs him by the coat and drags him across the gap. Rook’s shoulder slams into Ash’s chest. Ash wraps one arm around his neck. For one second, the beak is trapped beneath Ash’s jaw. Ash squeezes hard. Rook claws at the arm while the carriage climbs higher, the chain beneath us knocking rhythmically through the floor. Ash’s face turns red with effort. Rook jams two fingers into Ash’s wound. Ash makes a strangled sound. His grip loosens, and Rook tears free before driving the knife into the bench beside Ash’s hip. The blade buries in rotten padding. Ash grabs the wrist again. Neither man lets go. Their foreheads almost touch, Rook’s mask inches from Ash’s bare face.

“You should have stayed gone,” Ash says.

Rook twists the blade loose. “You should have finished what we built.” The carriage crests. Dark track drops below us. Rook shoves Ash away. The descent throws us backward. Hanging scenery lashes the sides of the vehicle. Ash catches the lap bar with one hand. The other goes straight back toward Rook. Rook slashes. The knife opens Ash’s palm. Blood spatters the carriage floor, and Ash keeps coming. He grabs Rook by the front of the coat anyway. Rook kicks his injured side. Ash folds around the pain. I catch his shoulder before he hits the floor. Rook brings the knife up. I shove Ash down. The blade passes over us. Rook loses balance as the carriage takes another curve. His shoulder hits the opposite wall. I see the radio. It is close enough now. I reach. Rook catches my wrist. His grip crushes the bones together.

“No, you don’t.” Ash rises beside me as if dragged from the grave. He grabs Rook’s fingers one by one and peels them off my wrist. Rook swings the knife. Ash catches the blade with his bleeding palm. The cut widens, but he still clenches his fist.

“Touch her again, and whether I survive this stops mattering.” His voice stays quiet. Rook headbutts him. Ash’s head snaps back. Blood runs from his reopened temple. He stays upright. I grab the maintenance radio from Rook’s coat. Rook lunges. Ash throws himself between us. The knife goes into Ash’s side, shallow enough not to bury itself but deep enough to jerk his entire body.

“Ash!” Rook yanks the blade free, but Ash catches his wrist before he can strike again. The carriage crashes across another damaged joint. I almost drop the radio.

Ash looks at me. “Use it.” Rook tries to pull away. Ash holds on. His bleeding hand stays wrapped around the knife wrist. I turn the frequency wheel. Static spits from the speaker. Rook sees what I’m doing. His free hand shoots toward me. Ash catches that wrist too. Now he has both. His back hits the carriage wall. Rook leans his whole weight into him. Ash holds. His arms shake. Blood runs down his side.

“Find Owen.” I spin the wheel. More static. Another channel brings another burst before a broken voice comes through.