10. Max

T he moment the doors swing open to the attraction, we're greeted with a smell similar to rot. It's musty, the air inside dry and heavy. We were grouped with five other people when we entered the Voodoo House, and once you finish with the Voodoo Priestess, you're allowed to wander. The crazy skeleton guy pacing a hole in the floor informed us of three main rooms and four secret ones.

The only way you get to find the secret rooms, is by searching for them or accidentally falling into them. The walls and steps up to the first room are a distressed brown and green color. Patches of black in different shapes and sizes scatter the walls, giving the illusion of mold. The sound of the door slamming behind us, causes a few to yelp in surprise .

We all make our way up the stairs, the guy standing in front of it opens the door for us all to walk through. The high priestess sits in the middle of the room, her body draped in a Victorian Era red and gold dress, the bustier tight enough so her breasts are all but flowing over. Her ebony skin looking smooth to the touch, long black dreadlocks flowing over her shoulder.

More skulls and animal heads are scattered around the room, voodoo dolls wrapped up in different colored thread. Some with needles in their bodies and eyes, some hanging by a noose. Vials sit on the table beside her with some small animal bones scattered over a brown velvet bag.

"Welcome!" she shouts, standing from her seat. "To the home of the trickster spirit himself, Papa Legba. The gatekeeper of the spirit world and the man charged with keeping the scales of life in balance." Moving closer to the group, she continues; "Watch your step when you look around this house. He wanders the halls and if caught," she holds up a finger, looking into the eyes of all of us, "your only way out will be a deal."

The lights begin the flicker around us until they go out entirely. Sasha's grip on my arm tightens. "They didn't say this was in the dark," she whispers.

"It's not." The high priestess whispers next to us, causing Sasha to scream. The candles in the room flicker on immediately, blanketing the room and our bodies in a soft, orange glow.

"You're such a wimp," I tease my best friend.

"Whatever." Her light swat against my arm only makes me laugh more. "I can't wait to see how scared you get in the mazes tomorrow, bitch."

"I'm going to give you your first riddle," the high priestess speaks, petting some sort of skeletal animal by her side. "My hands move, yet I'm grounded; I can sing, but cannot talk. What am I?" She smirks. "Give me the answer and you can move on. The longer you take, the longer you stay."

The random people next to me start to murmur, repeating the riddle again, trying to figure out the answer. Stepping forward I smile because I already know it. Sasha loves riddles, so being around her has taught me a lot.

"You're a clock," I smirk.

She walks over to me, gently tapping my temple. "Quite the smart little girl, aren't you?"

"Riddles are never as hard as you think." I shrug.

Leaning in, her nose nearly touching mine. "Then move." She winks, looking around to everyone. "But be careful where you step, there are traps everywhere." And with that, she leaves the room, three doors clicking open at once. One in front of all of us and one either side.

"Uh, ok." Deck huffs beside me. "Which one are we taking?"

"I think—"

"You take Sasha in front, me and Max will take the right." Before I'm able to protest, Ben throws me over his shoulder.

"Wait a second, shouldn't we—" The door slams closed behind us before I can finish hearing the words leave my best friend's lips.

"Ben, put me down." I tap his back and he drops me to my feet, directly in front of him so we are practically chest to chest. It's far too close for me. "Why would you do that?" I push back from him, the hallway we now find ourselves in close to pitch black, if not for the few shards of candlelight spaced out on the walls.

"We never have any time together anymore so—"

"Yes because," I sigh frustratingly, "you know why."

"Max, come on."

"Come on what, Ben?"

I like him but, not like that. Leaning forward, he takes hold of my hand, his skin is soft against mine, rubbing his thumb in slow, gentle circles on the top but I feel nothing. I'm fucking empty inside.

"Let's just try?" He steps closer.

"Try what, Ben?" I look up at him. "Because I seem to remember we did try, once, and I told you I felt nothing and that I wanted to be friends and—" I drop my head back and groan. Why does he always have to do this, why am I always the fucking bad guy here.

"Max, that was years ago, we were both wasted. Don't I deserve a chance?"

"No, Ben. I told you no, ok? Because of what ha—" I stop mid-sentence. "I'm not doing this right now." I snatch my hand back and begin stomping down the hall.

"Max! Wait!" He calls to me. That's when I hear the click underneath my sneaker. A door slides open to the right of me, and two performers dressed as skeletons lean out and drag me into the dark. "MAX!" I hear Ben as he shouts and bangs on the sliding door.

The two scare actors drag me into a brick room with a single light in the middle of the ceiling. One holds me as the other one wraps my wrists in a white rope.

"You're a clock." One of them mimics what I said earlier. "You're a clock."

"Let's see you get out of this riddle girl," says the other. He cackles in front of me. The one behind me hoists me up, suspending me onto the thick, steel hook that hangs above me.

I scream as they walk to the door. "You can't be serious!"

"You don't have much time before he's here!" The other shouts over his shoulder. "I'd get to work quickly." Slamming the door behind them, I'm surprised the hinges don't fall off.

"You don' t have much time before he gets here... meh, meh, meh," I mimic him. "Fucking assholes!" I shout at the top of my lungs, doubting they can hear me. They've probably already moved on to the next scare. Luckily enough, I'm not completely suspended too far off the floor. Looking down, I gage about a foot, maybe more but it's too hard to tell from this angle.

If I hang here for too long, the muscles in my shoulders will become too relaxed and the possibility of dislocation is higher. Surely, they can't leave me hanging here forever. The door behind me slides open and I listen as the footsteps stop directly behind me.

"Thank God, can you get me down from here? Those assholes tied me up."

"There's no God here, Petit Mouton ." That all too familiar voice hits my skin, and the hair stands on end.

Fuck.

I breath in his all too familiar scent, spicy and dark, with a hint of the forest draped over it. He grabs me by the waist, spinning me round to face him, no mask this time, so I can see just how much he's enjoying this.

I know how I can get down from here, but I'd rather not do it. The asshole left me so turned on, I refuse to even ask for his help.

"Quite the predicament, proie ." His face is completely void of any emotion. Rather than giving into the urge to back talk the big bastard, I opt for something a little out of my nature.

Silence.

So, I bite my tongue and refocus my eyes to his. This fucker won't get a word or sound out of me this time. He can talk to his fucking self.

" Parler ." I assume that means speak, but I won't be saying a single fucking thing. A huff escapes him, and I'm glad the ceiling isn't high enough for him to stand straight .

Stupid asshole.

Spinning me as he passes, I close my eyes. I hate the feeling of being dizzy, it reminds me of... I shake my head, begging for the images to leave my mind, because I'm starting to feel sick. I begin to slow down; my arms are really starting to ache now, and I've only been hanging for five minutes.

"Quiet, for once." He smirks, but it quickly disappears as I finally stop and my eyesight lands on him. Taking a deep breath, I fight the urge to say something sarcastic. Mainly because I know right now, I'm not really in the position to be smart with this guy.

Pulling the seat out from the table, he lowers himself onto it.

Widening both legs, one bent and one stretched out, Grim lifts his wrist resting on the edge of the table and begins to roll his fingers in a tapping motion.

"By the look on your face, your arms are starting to hurt."

He's goading me.

"Just say please, ma proie."

What is it with that fucking word he keeps calling me. I'm learning French tonight when we get back to the house, or at least something to scream at him when he pisses me off again. Looking up, I decide to at least try it this way first, before I do what I hate.

Slowly, I try to pull myself up, clenching every abdominal muscle in my stomach as I swing my legs up toward the ceiling. I have no idea what I'm going to do after this, but I've seen enough movies to know this could work. Yet when my legs fall back down my body weight drags against my shoulder and I yelp.

"Nice try." A small laugh leaves his throat, and yet again my core betrays me because it's gruff and I want to hear it again. "Again." He demands.

Fuck this.

Looking up, I grip my right thumb tightly, squeezing my eyes shut as I twist it to a painful angle. The pop fills the room, but still, I stay silent. Pushing the thumb toward my palm, my wrist and hand slip from the restraint, and my feet hit the concrete floor. Shaking the rope from my left wrist, I tug my thumb back into place. Looking at him with a smirk, I take a small bow.

I know I have about five seconds before he's up and I need to get out of here. The only door in this room, funnily enough is right beside him, and I truly doubt I'm getting past him, but I have a death wish anyway so why the fuck not. Keeping my gaze on him, I walk toward the door, his eyes never leaving mine

"Run." He simply says and I take that as my queue to leave, taking off, I push open the door and run into another barely lit hallway. Running when it's barely visible is disorientating, but I try my best to keep my breathing shallow. I've run track since I was sixteen, so this is nothing for me. It's the uneven ground that fucks everything up.

The sound of his boots hitting the floor behind me, gaining on me but he's not running. I turn left, then right and a final left, taking a brief look behind me to see the motherfucker walking. Like he's taunting me. Turning back ahead, I see there's light surrounding another door and my chest heaves with excitement.

Before I touch the wood on the door, I'm yanked back by my hair and slammed into the wall with force, his body crowds me. My ponytail gripped so tight in his hand I can feel each strand of hair tugging from the root.

"Very good," he breathes, pressing his body into me, so I'm sandwiched between him and the cold wall. He angles my face up to meet his. Leaning forward, he pokes out his tongue, flattening it against my jaw and sliding it devilishly slow, up and over my cheek, flicking the tip against the corner of my eye.

"I do enjoy the quiet, une si bonne proie ," he rasps. So, I take my hand, sliding it between the both of us, gripping him gently between his legs. Closing his eyes at the contact, he turns his head from side to side, his neck cracking into the silent hallway.

Rubbing against his swollen cock that's strangled behind the denim fabric of his jeans, I feel a slight drop in the tightness of his hold on my hair. Pressing my hand against his chest, I decide to test the waters and see how willing he is to allow me to move him to the adjacent wall.

With a little more pressure, I begin to straighten my arm, stepping with him as I move him against the wall his hand dropping from my ponytail. I need a way to get out of this, I hear the laughter behind the door and pray someone opens it for me.

I crouch to my knees and work the belt buckle open, pressing against the button and watching it pop. Looking up at him, I watch as he gives me a single nod and just as I'm about to pull the zip down. The door beside me swings open.

Thank the God's.

"Oh shit!" A random guy calls out. "My bad bro." He goes to grab the handle of the door, but I hold out my hand.

"Wait!" I cry. Scrambling to my feet and bounding through the door. Pushing the guy out of the way, I lean in and wrap my hand around the circular doorknob.

"Better luck next time, Big Guy," I finally speak, flipping him off yet again. "Enjoy the hard on!" I cackle. His face is that of pure shock. Yeah, I'm fucked alright. Slamming the door shut, it automatically locks in place, and I burst out laughing. "That was fun." I point behind me to the people staring at me like I have two heads. "Don't go in there though, huge guy in there, will make you suck his cock."

The two other guys of the group grimace, looking at me in disgust as I wipe the corners of my mouth playfully when I push between them and down to another room. I need to get out of here as quickly as possible and out into the open with the others, but I know this won't be easy and there's a high chance he will find me again.

I try to push that to the back of my mind though, because I'd hate to know what happens when he does. I make my way out of the room, down another random hallway, where the ceiling is covered in cobwebs. Haunting voodoo chants are being played over the Tannoy that's stuck to the ceiling.

Fake melted candles are strewn over the floor, and the black light along the skirting highlights all the satanic symbols painted on the walls and ceiling. Taking slow steps forward, careful not to misstep and be pulled into another room, I make my way down the hallway that only has me in it.

Great.

My heart stills in my chest, excitement and nerves being carried throughout my body, and it feels amazing. If the mazes are anything like this, I won't be disappointed. Reaching the end, I look left then right, trying to decide what the best course of action will be.

Right will probably loop me back around so, maybe if I go left, I'll find a better way out. So, I do, following my gut and creeping down the hallway that's even more narrow than the one before. A button at the end of the hall lights up. The words ‘Push me' labelled above it.

"Crap," I mutter, dropping my head back and sighing. "Whatever, it is what it is." I push it and the door to my right, slides open, and that's when I hear it.

His laughter.

A deep groan leaves my throat. Rolling my head to the side, I focus my sights on the man in question and by the look on his face, I really should be scared.