Dark Perceptions (Mystic's Carnival Collective) by Debra Kristi Read Free Book Online Page B

ride end with fewer occupants than it started? Yeah, that’s it, I counted wrong. Nothing to fear.  
    Scarred and ugly, the ride operator shoved into my personal space. Each waft of his rotting breath sent creepy crawlies skittering across my skin. My stomach churned a thick, clammy spin and twisted into a thorn-riddled knot.
    He pulled and jiggled my harness, and all I wanted to do was shove him and his B.O.-drenched body away. His clumped-mop hair and tobacco-beer cologne induced an automatic hurl response in my esophagus.
    “All good,” he said. I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement.
    I just wanted him gone. Away from me. Out of my face. As far as he could possibly go. I turned away, averted my gaze. Maybe avoidance would move the process along quicker.  
    “Yep,” I mumbled, trying to keep my voice steady, nonchalant. “All normal.” My eyes volleyed, settling on the rusty metal at my feet.
    “Ya think?” he retorted with the hint of a cackle.  
    My muscles, tendons, all went rigid. There was something about the way he moved, the tone of his voice. So Stephen King-ish. Even as he helped the person on my left, he baited me, teased me. I couldn’t help myself. I looked up.  
    “Carnival wouldn’t ‘ave gotten its rep if it were normal.” His face contorted, took on an all-knowingsmirk. “She likes to show you things.” He leaned closer, whispered in my ear. My insides churned and I shivered, jerked away. Ignoring me, he jiggled my harness, then continued moving around the ride’s ring like a spinning tornado ride. Within seconds he was gone.  
    Panic burrowed deep within my belly. Nausea bubbled, burned up my throat. My eyes darted, searched the riders in the other bays, then sought the exit. Things weren’t right. People were missing and there had been monsters present. I wanted off. Had to get out. Had to move before it was too late.  
    The ride lurched, began to spin, and my heart sank, froze me with fear.  
    Already too late.  
    In a circle we swung. Slowly at first, then faster and faster with each rotation. Riders, lights, machinery, all blurred into a haze.  
    I reached for Matt’s hand and flailed in the dark. What I found was cold and clammy. It made my skin squirm. Fighting the force of the gravitational pull, I twisted my head. Turned toward him. He wasn’t there. The face of a rotting corpse stared back at me. His eyes brown, like Matt’s. The hair falling from his scalp, the same dirty blond. But it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be Matt—right?
    I couldn’t drop his hand fast enough, my scream erupting, ripping up my throat and out of my mouth.  
    “Don’t worry, Sara. I’ll protect you,” it said. Words almost lost in the sounds of a bizarre musical track and an insane combination of screams and savage laughter. Words I would have sworn were meant to soothe me, yet did anything but.  
    My head snapped forward and I screamed again. Screamed with every ounce of blood-curdling might I could muster. I wanted to escape, run, get away, but the ride moved at astronomical speed and my body merged with the wall from the force of it all.  
    The back wall seeped in around me. Held me with a dry ice grip and werewolf claws. Frost encased me, molded around me, torment splintering through my chest at the speed of my rapid, thump-thumpidy heart.
    I’m going to die.  
    The thought dropped in my gut like a boulder to the bottom of the sea, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.  
    I wasn’t ready to die. Not yet.  
    I grasped at the handles. Held out for hope. For a chance I’d make it through the ride alive.  
    The Matt-corpse shouted, its voice pitching like a little girl’s. Is it scared, too? The message was garbled, words gobbled by the grind of the motor, the gale of the wind, and the gorrific screams within. That thing was a monster, an ugly symbol of death. And I refused to look.  
    Instead, I focused on tobacco and beer. The eerie ride engineer. He knew. He