Page 15 of Walk on the Wilde Side
"I'll go," I tell the others. No sense in all of us crawling through there like raging bulls.
I push back through the rubber flaps over the exit. It's still pitch-dark inside. I can hear people moving around, muttering about what a bunch of assholes we are.
"Nev!" My voice roars through the space. Everyone else falls silent until someone whispers, "it's fucking Zander again."
"Nevada!" My voice rolls around the maze of partitions. I use my arms to feel my way through the dark hallways. This time the people who are supposed to jump out and scare the visitors are scrunched up in corners, staying the hell out of my way. "I'm looking for a girl," I tell them, but there's no answer.
I come around to another room. My eyes have adjusted some, and there's a small amount of light from the fair coming through a few of the slits in the window covers. I'm back in the room with the cadaver on the table. It's where we were when the lights went out and the shit started.
I swing my gaze around, and a glowing object catches my attention. It's the witch's finger.
"Nev," I say urgently. She's crouched down in a corner. There's a rubber arm in front of her.
"Yep, it's me," she says quietly.
I shove the table out of the way and kneel down next to her. Even in the darkness, I can see a cut on her head and some drips of blood.
"Nevvie, what the hell?" I ask.
"First, I'd like to point out that I didn't want to go into this stupid fucking haunted house and what a stupid haunted house it is," she says loudly, knowing there are plenty of ears around to hear. "I stumbled in the dark and hit my head on something." She looks over at the table. "I think I hit the corner, then I was dizzy, then all the testosterone and fists started flying, so I figured I'd be safest in this corner."
Spooky music and digitized ghost sounds fire up along with the annoying strobe. The generator is back on.
"Zander, get me out of here, please. I think I've had enough Halloween for a lifetime." That's Nev. Always calm, smart and way too fucking cool for a teenager.
"Put your arms around my neck, and I'll carry you."
She hesitates but then puts her arms around my neck. I lift her into my arms.
"Is she all right?" someone with a brain hanging off their head asks.
"No, she hit her head. Now turn the full lights on, or I'll start tearing this place down with my bare hands."
"Fuck, yeah, all right. Hold on."
The lights go on. Nev closes her eyes against the harsh light and turns her face into my shoulder. I push through to the exit.
Kinsley shrieks when she sees us. "What happened? Nev, are you hurt?" Kinsley is crying and near hysteria.
"I'm fine. Looks worse than it is," Nev says with a bored sigh. She looks at me. Our faces are just an inch apart, and it takes both of us by surprise. "Uh, I think I can walk on my own now," she says. A slight smile makes her eyes twinkle.
"I can carry you to the first aid tent. I need to get some antiseptic for my scratches."
She glances over to the side where my arm is holding her. "What the hell? Did that happen?—"
I'm shaking my head before she can finish. I motion discreetly with my head toward Emily. She's standing with Indi and is giving me the evil eye for holding Nev. But I'm not ready to put her down yet.
"Good thing you had that rubber finger," I say.
Nev releases her hand and holds it up. The witch's finger is still sitting on her long middle finger. "We witches have great powers. We can even glow in the dark. Now, Mr. Wilde, you should put me down. People are staring."
I look straight into her hazel eyes. "Let them." I release a breath and lower her feet to the ground. I can still feel the heat of her body in my arms long after we've left the stupid Halloween fair.
eight
Nev
My favorite hour of the day is the hour before the shop opens. I've got the whole place to myself, and I can let my mind wander as I fill containers with precut vegetables, cheeses and meats. My first big investment in the shop, aside from the initial one, was a handy bread slicing machine. I drop in one of the big plump loaves of sourdough I get freshly delivered daily from a local commercial bakery, and perfectly uniform slices roll out. The bakery makes high-quality, handcrafted bread from a hundred-year-old starter. The loaves are a little more expensive but worth it. I knew when I opened the shop that I wanted to sell tasty, specialty sandwiches. I didn't want to make chain restaurant quality sandwiches where the bread is mushy and the cheese slices so thin you can barely see them between the floppy pieces of bread. Country bread, a sourdough based soft white bread, and seeded whole grain were customer favorites, so I always ordered more of them. Some people think the bread makes the sandwich, and some argue that it's the fillings. My opinion is that it's both. When one of the main ingredients is lacking, so is the sandwich.
