Page 12

She giggles. “Maybe we could hang on to this to play with later.”

Oh, so she’s enjoying the blindfolded part, and we haven’t even gotten started yet. I lean in and lightly nip at the lobe of her ear then lick a line up the side of her neck, enjoying the way goosebumps rise in my wake.

She shivers. “Oh, yes, please. More of that.”

With her blindfolded, I hand out the robes to the others. Quickly, we pull off our shirts, leaving us bare-chested, and stuff them into the bag the robes have come from. Then we swing the material over our shoulders and secure them at our throats. Finally, we each produce our individual masks and settle them over our faces.

“Ready?” Malachi asks her.

“Ready,” she replies.

He undoes the blindfold, and she blinks around at us, her gaze roving over our masks and robes. She knows what the deal is when these versions of us come out to play.

“Do I get to run?” she asks, her voice a breathy whisper.

I tip my chin. “Through there.”

Her breath catches, and she glances over her shoulder at the funhouse.

“You can say no,” Malachi adds.

She smiles and bites her lower lip. “Are you kidding?”

“What’s your safe word?” I ask.

“Anchovies.” Her reply is instant. “I’m fine, honestly.”

Roman leans in. “Then run!”

He shouts the last word, and she squeals and turns on her heels, her short skirt billowing up and giving me a tantalizing glimpse of her panties. Within seconds, she vanishes through the clown’s open maw and into the darkness. From deep inside, thunder claps, and there’s another robotic scream.

I turn to the other Preachers. “Let’s do this.”

We’ve already planned to split up. There’s no point in all three of us trying to squeeze through the same narrow corridors, one after the other. No, it’s better that we choose different entrances and aim to cut her off from all directions.

The three of us fist bump each other then split up to enter the funhouse and chase down our girl.

7

OPHELIA

I’m plunged into darkness.

Immediately, I’m aware of how claustrophobic it feels, as if the walls are pressing in on me on all sides. Lights flash, illuminating neon spraypainted graffiti everywhere. Loud screams and sirens go off, and I resist the urge to cover my ears.

For a moment, I wonder if I’ve overestimated what I can deal with, but then I remind myself I’m not alone. I have my Preachers with me.

I glance over my shoulder, wondering how long the guys are going to give me before they come after me. I’m guessing they’re going to let me get some way into the funhouse or else they’ll catch me too soon and the fun will be over too fast.

A pleasurable thud of excitement goes through me. They’re going to fuck me in here, wearing their masks and surrounded by all the scary decorations, with screams ringing in our ears. Maybe it makes me all kinds of messed up, but it excites me and scares me in equal measures.

I reach the end of the narrow corridor and draw to a halt. There’s just enough light to see, and I realize I’m facing a mirror, my own pale face staring back at me.

From out of nowhere, a creepy clown holding a knife slams up against it from the other side, and I scream and stumble back. Of course it’s not real, but it still gave me a jump scare. More screams and laughter come through the speakers.

“Oh, my God,” I mutter to myself before turning left and keeping going.

I go through a doorway, where lots of tubing is hanging down from the ceiling. I have to push my way through, using my hands, but then touch something cold and rubbery.