Chapter 1

One

D ane

December 2019

You can get lost

You can be found

You can exist underground

You can bring joy

You can cause pain

You can start your life all over again

You can do magic

You can stop evil

You can run like mad from the devil

But you can't change your soul

You can't change your fate

And you can't escape from the mess you create

Only you can know

What I see

Only you can save me

On a dark desert highway somewhere in California, I walked alone on the dusty shoulder with a borrowed acoustic guitar strapped to my back and my sole possession tucked under my arm in a brown paper bag. I shivered as though evil was breathing down my neck, when in reality, I was the one in pursuit. The sky had a purplish hue with some storm clouds off to the north but directly above me, the stars flickered in a surreal dance.

I walked with purpose, and it was a very important one.

I'm the only one who can stop him.

I passed a sign that said Highway 58 to Mojave, and I pulled my salvaged coat tighter around my scrawny self. The ground was warm beneath my tattered boots, but the air bit into my skin like an icy monster gnashing its teeth, hungry.

I turned to look behind me and spotted headlights coming my way. It had been at least an hour since another car had passed. I stuck out my thumb, hoping they'd stop. The boots I wore were also borrowed, as were my clothes and hat. I chose them because they were the only ones in the carnival storage that were the right size and fit.

I had only one memory from before I'd started working with the traveling carnival, and it was awful enough to make your blood run cold.

The lights hurt my eyes, and my energy flagged, but I kept my thumb out. I had something important to do, and if this car didn't slow down, I'd keep going until the next one came. Someone had to stop. How else did people get anywhere if not for thumb power?

The headlights grew nearer and were impossibly bright. I had to cover my eyes briefly as I was nearly blinded. I heard the crunch of gravel as the vehicle pulled over and coughed at the cloud of dust that rose. A door opened and a male voice called out.

"Hey, man. What are you doing out here?"

The bright lights faded and only the yellow ones down low on the front of what I gathered was a pickup truck were left on. It was a massive thing, jacked up high, with big tires and a shiny chrome grill.

What does it look like I'm doing? The large concrete sign with the strange name loomed in my consciousness, and though every cell in my body struggled against my purpose, I stood tall and called back,"Need a ride. To Buttonwillow."

The truck door closed, and I saw the man's shape pass in front of the dim lights. What was he doing getting out of his ride? I backed up a step, trying to play it cool. He wasn't the person I was worried about.

Then the passenger door opened, and a much larger man got out.

"Ryan, don't."

There were two of them. I didn't like my odds, but I had no choice. I had to get there. I had to stop…

"Forget it man, I'll walk."

"Wait, come back. You can't walk that far. That's, like, almost a hundred miles away."

The driver came closer, but the big man stepped in between us. I reached for the guitar on my back. Maybe I could whack him with it and run away. I was pretty fast.

"Do you have any weapons?" Then the passenger barked an order at me. "Let me see under your jacket."

"Come on, man. I just need a ride. I don't have anything."

The driver pushed past him. "Kal, it's okay. Hey, kid, what's your name?"

"Dee Dee."

The driver held his hand out, and I shook it. "Dee Dee, I'm Ryan, and this is my husband, Kal. Damn ," he said, letting go of my hand and slapping his together, the loud crack making me jump. "I love saying that." He turned and smiled at the large man, whose scowl seemed to lessen the slightest bit. "We just got married in Vegas." He held up a hand and the light flashed off of his wedding band.

"Congratulations?" It came out like the question it was. How were they married? Two men? Guess they really do let anything happen in Las Vegas.

"Where'd you come from?" Kal asked, standing next to Ryan as if to protect him from me. Not sure I'd ever been seen as a threat to anyone, but I didn't blame him for being cautious. Wish I'd had someone to look after me like that.

"Back that way. Was working at a carnival, and I needed to?—"

Ryan put a hand on my chest and his eyes went wide. "Did you say carnival? Like, ‘Welcome, Traveler' carnival?"

"How'd you know?" I tried to step back and my heel caught on a rock. I was about to go down, but Kal caught me—and then I was caught up in his gaze.

"I came from there, too," Kal said.

And then I heard it. In my mind. Calliope music.

I'd never gone to see it. I hadn't done much exploring. I'd only gone from my trailer to my booth and back for however long I'd been employed there. Didn't seem long, but then, time did weird things at the carnival.

"The Troubadour's Talking Board," Kal said. He gripped my arm a little tighter as he brought me back up to standing. "The booth in the arcade. I know you."

"That's right. That's me. Well, it was. I left. Got something I gotta do."

Ryan grabbed Kal's arm. "The promise. Babe, we have to help him."

Kal continued to stare down at me, and though he seemed good—the big man oozed honor from his pores—he was a scary guy. His hand could have wrapped around my bicep twice. Or my throat. He looked from Ryan to me, and then he let go of my arm.

"We shall help you along your path."

Seemed like a strange way of saying "sure, we'll give you a ride," but I'd take it.

"Thank you."

Ryan gestured to the truck. "Hop in."

Kal remained at my side and when we reached the cab, he opened the front of two doors. I'd never seen a pickup with two sets of doors before. This thing was unreal.

"You ride up here," Kal said, taking the guitar from me. "I'll be right behind you. If you hurt my husband, I will hurt you ."

"God, Kal. That's hot, but babe, don't scare the kid. We promised we'd help him."

"Promised who?" I asked as I climbed into the tall pickup. "And I'm not a kid."

Kal shut my door after I sat, and then he climbed in. I turned my back to the door. I didn't like having him behind me. Didn't like anyone at my back, especially after what had happened to land me at the carnival in the first place.

"I think you know," Kal said as Ryan started the pickup. "Ryan and I are married because someone else made a promise to help us on our path. Ryan made a promise to Mr. Ame. Now we will do the same for you."

I'd known cats who lived together, maybe even called themselves husbands, but marriage couldn't happen between homosexuals. This was all too much. It was like I'd left one odd place and wound up in another.

But what he said about promises put my purpose front and center in my mind.

I sighed and turned just a bit, still able to see Kal out of the corner of my eye as he sat in the middle of the backseat. He rested a hand on the seat behind Ryan's shoulder, his fingers tangling in the man's shoulder-length copper hair.

"Thank you for stopping," I said before I let my eyes drift closed. I needed to rest. I would need my strength when we arrived.

"What's in Buttonwillow?" I heard Kal ask Ryan.

"All I know about it is there's a pair of rest stops on either side of the highway. Creepy-ass place. Every time I stop there, I'm sure a murderer is going to jump out of the bushes."

You don't know how right you are.

As I drifted off, my last customer of the night came back to me…

A few hours before…

"Busier night than usual."

Pokey leaned against the wall separating our booths and flicked his toothpick between his teeth as he attempted to make conversation.

I'd shared a trailer with him since I arrived at the carnival, whenever that was, and he frequently complained about the few times I was able to scrounge a cigarette—said it was a nasty habit, that it smelled foul. I was so tempted to make a comment about how it was hypocritical to bellyache about my vices when he had that nasty piece of wood in his mouth all day, but I was trying to be the bigger person, and Pokey had looked after me ever since I could remember, which wasn't very long. He was a good enough guy.

"Sure is. My brain is like mush by now." I picked up the guitar—playing helped clear my mind—and had my back to the carnival, just picking at the strings. Another one had broken earlier so I was down to three. The challenge of playing melodies like this was good for me.

Most days, I had maybe five or six customers, but today I'd had double that and only gotten a second to breathe the past few minutes. Thankfully, it was almost closing time. I'd worked my magic and made people happy with my words, or at least the words that had come to me, through me, through the board from… somewhere.

"You the poet guy?"

I turned and found a twitchy man standing before my booth. He was ordinary-looking, in light blue jeans and a gray t-shirt, his black hair cut short, his bright blue eyes shiny, his smile wide. He rested his hands on the lip of the booth and tapped his fingers.

He took my breath away, only it wasn't in the way folks wrote love songs about. This was like the crushing weight of a knee to the chest, a garrote around the neck being pulled by strong arms, or a plastic bag pulled tight over your head.

Why those specific images came to me, so vividly, I had no idea.

"I'm the poet guy," I finally said, gripping the lip of my work table in my hands.He was a mere three feet away, and his abrasive energy washed over me and left a metallic taste in my mouth. Like iron.

Pokey turned away from his goldfish and leaned a bit more over the wall between our booths. He watched the stranger intently, as did the fish. They weren't like any fish I'd ever seen, creepy little buggers. I supposed since he was the one who'd apparently brought me into the carnival, Pokey felt the need to protect me? Normally it bugged me a bit, but tonight his presence was welcome.

"So how do we get started?" The young man pulled out his wallet and held it open to show off a thick wad of bills. "I've got money. You gonna use your board?"

He had a lot of cash for a guy dressed so plainly. Something told me it might not all belong to him.

"Well," I rubbed my hands together, "we're kind of wrapping up for the night?—"

"Oh, come on. I came by several times and you always had a line. I just want a poem from the… Troubadour. That's you, ain't it? Come on. Use your talking board. Write me a poem."

His smile was too wide, like the corners of his mouth pulled out so far it looked painful. His teeth were clenched in his mouth, and he was way more excited than he should have been about a silly poem.

There was something wrong about him, and I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew he shouldn't be here.

Maybe I could just make something up. I could leave the board out of it. I wished I had rhymes inside my head. I felt like I should have them—used to have them—but something kept them from me. I wouldn't even have to ask him a question if I could do it myself. He couldn't contaminate me with whatever darkness he was carrying if I didn't?—

"Ain't you supposed to ask me for my question? I watched you do it with some people before. You ask for their question and then they tell you. I want you to ask me for my question." He'd pressed himself up against the front of my booth, and his belt buckle kept scratching against the wood, the sound like fingernails on a chalkboard. My teeth hurt at the sound and ringing started in my ear.

"Right, right," I said, rubbing my jaw. "A question. You gotta know, though, you may not get the kinda answer you think. Sometimes?—"

"You're not talking me out of this. I've been waiting all day. He told me I'd find you here, so let's get going." He rubbed his hands together and the sight turned my stomach. Once more, I found myself fighting for air.

I cleared my throat and ignored the blackness creeping in around my vision. I cracked my knuckles and gazed up at the guy. He was built a bit bigger than me but was still slim, and only a few inches taller than my 5'7". He licked his lips and that smile stretched even farther. The guy was giddy. I had half a mind to make up some excuse. I wished for an interruption. Anything to not touch the planchette.

"Come on! Carnival's gonna close soon."

His smile slipped a little and his upper lip curled. The scar on my face began to itch, but I resisted the urge to scratch it.

"All right then. What's your question?"

His beady, soulless eyes flared and he licked his lips. "I wanna know how you got here."

I frowned. What an odd question? I blew out a breath and placed my fingers gingerly on the planchette.

The blackness creeped a little closer, sending cold spikes up and down my neck. I sucked in a breath and saw the swirl of words coming toward me.

"What do you see?" His words broke through, sending waves through the vision like disturbing a still body of water. I was about to reprimand him when his arms shot out and he planted his hands on the planchette, plummeting us both into the blackness.

On a dark night

In a dark place

Stood the man

With the nothing face

He smiled but you recoiled

He gestured but you retreated

His smile faded

With the curl of a lip

He reached out

And grabbed your hip

He tugged and you resisted

He snarled and you receded

But he was strong

And you were weak

And the drugs you'd taken

Had passed their peak

He tackled and you reacted

He threatened and you reconciled

Just stay calm

Let him win

And when his weight shifts

The struggle will begin

He drags and you reach

Stomps on your groin and you retch

You scream

He kicks

You roll

He binds

You lash out

He growls

You plead

He strangles

You gasp

He laughs

You slip

"You shouldn't have come

You're here, let's have fun

But now you'll suffer

Before I'm done"

And suffer

Suffer

Suffer

Suffer

Endless suffering endured

Pain

Cold

Tears

Blood

Under the moon

In the dark sky

A light appears

Stinging your eye

He sees and curses

He slices your thigh

"I'll see you again"

And he flees

It took everything I had to push away from the rushing darkness, but when I could finally lift my hands, he was there. The twitchy man.

That sinister smile.

"I'll see you again." He chuckled quietly as he let go of the planchette and backed away slowly, his smile growing impossibly wider. So many teeth he had. "I'll see you again," he whispered.

Nik, the carnival's engineer,grabbed the stranger's arm."It's time for you to leave."

The creep's entire face changed. It went soft, and he became compliant. "Sure, sure. Hey, thank you, Mr. Troubadour." He waved like nothing awful had just happened.

Pokey's heavy hand fell on my shoulder, and I jumped. When had he come into my booth?

"I came over when I saw him touch your board. You all right?"

I brought a shaky hand up to my throat, touched my face, and took a deep breath. "Yeah. I need to quit for the night." I shook out my hands and spit on the ground, wanting the taste of blood out of my mouth. My body ached for no reason, or maybe it was like when you had a really vivid dream and when you woke up, you felt like you'd been wrestling with a demon or something.

"You should tell Mr. Ame what happened."

"I suppose, though I think he must've known since Nik showed up." I closed up my booth, which didn't involve much. I took my board with me. I knew it belonged to me, that there was some history with it, and I suppose for that reason I wanted to keep it with me. Didn't want to chance it getting misplaced, although theft didn't occur here at the carnival. Neither did any sort of wrongdoing. Nah, what just happened came from my twisted mind. He'd been a catalyst of some sort though, because I was now in possession of this memory, this awful thing that had happened.

Lucky me.