Night of the Tiger (Hades' Carnival) (5 page)

“I’m fine,” she managed to get out as she sucked in a deep, calming breath. Her knees felt like jelly, so she stiffened them and prayed her weak leg wouldn’t give out from beneath her. She surreptitiously wiped her palms on her jeans.

“You look pale.” Sandra chewed on her bottom lip, emphasizing the bright red lipstick that adorned it. “Maybe we should go home.”

Guilt assailed Aimee. Sandra had been nice enough to try to get her out of the house for a few hours of enjoyment, and she was acting like a petulant child who just wanted to go home. She didn’t have so many friends she could afford to lose one. She straightened her sweater and hooked her purse higher on her shoulder. “I’m fine. Really,” she added when Sandra’s eyes narrowed.

“If you’re sure.”

“Let’s go.” Taking the lead, Aimee made her way to the ticket booth. The weathered boards were old and faded, the red and yellow paint chipped from too many years of exposure to the elements.

She read the information posted on the side of the booth. That information, she noted, was in crisp black lettering that was obviously new. Every ride, game or carnival act was paid for in a certain number of tickets, ranging from one ticket to four. You could buy single tickets or bundles of ten or twenty. Aimee decided on a group of ten. That should be more than enough for the evening.

The man inside the booth looked to be about ninety. His leathery skin was wrinkled, and what hair he had was gray. But his eyes were sharp as he took their money and handed them tickets. “Be sure and check out the sideshow as well as the rides. Lots to see there.” He grinned, showing off his few remaining teeth.

A sense of unease slid over Aimee, but it was swept away as Sandra took her hand and all but dragged her onto the fairground. “Isn’t this great?”

Aimee stumbled but quickly compensated for the weakness in her left leg. Taking a moment, she looked around and soaked up the atmosphere. Everywhere, townsfolk were talking, eating and laughing. The air was filled with the sounds of mechanical whooshes as the rides swept people into the air. Some of them laughed, while others screamed. A Ferris wheel circled slowly with couples snuggled close in each seat. Lights flashed, and a cacophony of noise surrounded her. To a person who lived and worked alone, it was overwhelming.

She took a deep breath and continued to look around with undisguised interest, wanting to absorb all the colors and sights so she could recreate them later in her studio. Every experience was fodder for her art.

Games of chance were set up on one side of the field. They seemed to have all the traditional games one would expect at a carnival—fitting a hoop over a block of wood, getting a ball in the basket, shooting darts and firing air rifles at targets. The games were always rigged in favor of the carnival, but it didn’t matter. People still played and some of them even won.

Food stalls littered the fair grounds. The air was heavy with the aroma of grease and sugar. This was the kind of night when men stuffed their faces, women chucked their diets and parents allowed their kids special treats. She could smell hot dogs, popcorn, French fries, pretzels and cotton candy. Her stomach rumbled, vociferously reminding her that she hadn’t eaten any supper. She’d gotten caught up with work, yet again, and it had been too late to fix anything before Sandra had arrived to pick her up.

A teenager walked by holding a candy apple on a stick. The girl sank her teeth into the apple and pulled away a string of thick, sugary coating. Aimee licked her lips, but talked herself out of buying one. Maybe there was something halfway healthy to eat. A teenage boy sauntered past, his face buried in a mound of cotton candy. Aimee chuckled aloud. Then again, maybe not.

“Let’s go over here.” Sandra tugged on her arm, and Aimee turned and followed her friend.

She made up her mind to relax and enjoy the evening. She wasn’t fond of most of the rides—they were too wild for her taste—but she could watch Sandra on them. She could also enjoy some greasy, unhealthy, yet ever-so-tasty food and try her hand at a few of the games of chance.

Sandra led them to a large trailer with
Funhouse
stenciled on the side. On second look, it appeared to be two trailers clamped together.

“I’m not sure about this, Sandra…” Her voice trailed off as her friend turned to her, a frown on her face. Aimee realized she was doing it again. She was being a stick-in-the-mud. She vowed to be more positive as she walked toward the entrance. “I’m sure it will be fun.”

Smiling, Sandra took the lead and handed two of her tickets to the middle-aged man who sat outside the door. When he took Aimee’s tickets, he stared hard at her for a brief second, his gaze going to the scars on her face. She resisted the urge to cover her cheek with her hand. Instead, she stared back at him. He smirked as he dropped her tickets into the box beside him. “Enjoy yourself.”

Aimee clutched her purse tighter to her chest and followed Sandra inside, taking care as she went up the few steps that led to the entrance. Placing her right hand on the wall for support, she pushed her way through the long, red streamers that ran from the ceiling to the floor. Now that she’d begun, she’d see it through to the end. Maybe she’d even have fun.

Then again, maybe not.

The moment she stepped inside, her stomach clenched and sweat broke out on her brow. The walls seemed to close in around her. Sandra was nowhere in sight. She could hear her friend laughing somewhere in the distance. “Sandra,” she called out.

“Up ahead. Come on, these mirrors are great.”

Aimee hurried down the narrow corridor as fast as she could, ignoring the bright lights that flashed on and off, illuminating clown faces that adorned the walls. She’d always hated clowns.

Considering what she did for a living and the kinds of dreams she had, it seemed kind of stupid to say that. But it didn’t negate the fact. Clowns gave her the creeps with their painted-on faces and fake smiles. They always seemed to be sad and desperate instead of happy, hiding their true selves behind thick layers of makeup.

Feeling as if a hundred eyes were watching her, she worked her way down the narrow corridor. It widened, and she suddenly found herself surrounded by a circle of mirrors. She did a complete three-sixty and couldn’t even tell where she’d come from.

She caught a brief glimpse of Sandra, her long blonde hair and red leather jacket reflecting the light before she disappeared from sight.

“Sandra.” She called out to her friend, but the only reply she got was soft, feminine laughter, which seemed to be coming from a different direction.

Totally disoriented, Aimee placed her palm against one of the mirrors and stared at her reflection.

It was slightly distorted, but she easily recognized herself. Same slender build she saw in the mirror every morning, although this particular glass made her look shorter than her five-foot-six height. Her short black hair, pale skin and green eyes were all familiar enough. In the dim light, she could barely see the faint white lines that ran across her left cheek.

She turned to the next mirror. This one made her look slightly taller. Chuckling, she shifted to the next one. “Not bad,” she murmured. This one made her B-cup chest look much larger.

This wasn’t so bad after all. Aimee relaxed, determined to enjoy the novel experience. She smiled and glanced in the next mirror. The smile froze on her face and slowly disappeared.

Standing just behind her was an enormous white tiger, exactly like the one from her dreams. His white face was striped with black. A broad, flat nose and piercing blue eyes dominated it. His mouth was open, exposing a large pink tongue and extremely sharp teeth. Aimee was afraid to move, afraid to blink.

The tiger sat unmoving, muscles coiled, head slightly lowered. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her. She knew the beast could explode into action without a second’s notice and be on her before she could even think to move.

This had to be part of the trick of the mirrors. It was only coincidence that it was a white tiger. Maybe the next one would have a lion or a bear or some other animal. She glanced in the next mirror, but there was only her own reflection and that of the tiger.

Her palms were sweaty, her lips dry. “There’s nothing behind you. It’s just a trick of the light.” Even as she said it, she heard the heavy breathing of the animal behind her. “It’s just a soundtrack,” she assured herself. “It’s not real.”

Her stomach clenched and she felt light-headed. Where were all the other people? Where had Sandra disappeared to? She was totally alone in the room of mirrors. If you didn’t count the tiger, that is.

Knowing she had no choice, Aimee slowly turned, her sneakers squeaking against the flooring. She was practically panting now as she sucked air into her starving lungs. She had to calm down. Taking a deep breath, she held it as she swiveled the rest of the way around.

She blinked and then gave a short, nervous laugh. “Nothing. Of course there’s nothing. It’s just a trick of light and mirrors.” They probably had a hologram program they used or something like that.

It was time to leave the hall of mirrors. Placing her hand on the glass, she kept her fingers in contact with it as she began to walk around the room searching for the exit. A movement caught the corner of her eye, and she jerked her head around. The tiger was following her. No, it was stalking her. Head down, it prowled behind her, muscles bunching and rippling with each step it took.

Aimee yanked her gaze away from the beast. “It’s not real,” she repeated over and over as she let her hand slide over the panes of glass. One of them had to be a doorway out. She ignored the sound of heavy paws padding behind her. She ignored the loud chuff of breath and the low growl.

“It’s not real.” Her words weren’t as loud or as sure as they’d been. Maybe this was a hallucination brought on by all the stress she’d been under lately. She hadn’t been sleeping well either. That had to be it. She refused to believe there was an actual tiger behind her. She swallowed and kept searching for the exit, refusing to look over her shoulder.

This was as bad as one of her nightmares. She was trapped, unable to get out. It didn’t matter that the tiger looked exactly like the one from her dreams, the one that had always made her feel safe. Panic threatened, but she beat it back down. Years of practicing control in her life and in her dreams came to her aid. One step forward, feel the glass. Another step forward, touch the next mirror.

A slight breeze wafted over her face. A doorway. It had to be. She pushed forward and her hands met an open space. Making herself walk instead of run, she left the mirrors behind.

She started to peer over her shoulder, a part of her wanting to catch a final glimpse of the magnificent animal, but she forced herself to keep looking forward. The tiger wasn’t real and it couldn’t follow her. She was already freaked out enough without adding to it. Her shirt was plastered to her body and she drew her sweater tighter around her, cold in spite of the fact she was sweating.

The corridor was dark so she was forced, once again, to use her hands for guidance. She cursed herself for ever stepping foot in this place. Once she got out, she was treating herself to a hotdog and a cold drink. She wasn’t fond of carbonated drinks, but at this point, she’d take whatever they had. Maybe she’d even have some cotton candy.

A red light flicked on, and a clown popped out into the corridor, its macabre laughter surrounding her. Aimee screamed, her cry echoing off the walls. In the background, she swore she could hear the anguished roar of a tiger. As quickly as it had appeared, the clown disappeared back into the wall again. An automaton. “I hate clowns,” she muttered, forcing herself to continue. She had to get out of here, and to do that she had to keep moving.

Several more clowns, each one more bizarre than the previous, popped out and laughed at her as she made her way through the narrow corridor. And that’s what it felt like. They weren’t inviting her to laugh with them, or even trying to get her to laugh. They were laughing at her.

Great, not only was she seeing things, now she was paranoid.

Putting her head down, Aimee plowed down one corridor and then another, following the twists and turns that led her around the trailers. She knew she had to be getting close to the end. After all, it was only as big as two trailers, unless they had crossovers, which could keep her going in circles.

The familiar sound of the fairground finally penetrated her consciousness, and she hurried toward it. For a person who preferred to be alone, she’d never been so happy to see people as she was at this moment. Streamers, long and thin, brushed against her forehead and cheeks as she stepped out of the trailer. The cool night air hit her face and she took a deep breath.

The door slammed shut behind her so she couldn’t go back in. Not that she’d want to. She’d had more than enough
fun
in that place. Thankfully, she was at the opposite end of the trailers from where she had entered and didn’t have to see the smirking face of the attendant. She gave thanks for that small blessing.

Feeling shaky, she was careful walking down the few stairs that led back to the ground. When the grass was solidly beneath her feet again, Aimee sighed with relief. She glanced at her watch and was shocked to find that she’d been inside the funhouse almost twenty minutes.

Sandra was nowhere in sight. “She probably got tired of waiting.” A couple passing by gave her a strange look, probably because she was talking to herself again. That was a habit she’d picked up by living and working alone. Just something else to make the townspeople think she was a sandwich short of a picnic.