Beloved Forever

  BELOVED FOREVER

  An Ellora’s Cave Publication, July 2004

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

  PO Box 787

  Hudson, OH 44236-0787

  ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-999-1

  Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

  Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

  BELOVED FOREVER © 2004 KIT TUNSTALL

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Edited by Mary Moran.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  BELOVED FOREVER

  Kit Tunstall

  Chapter One

  Emily shivered as a chill wind cut through her camel-colored fleece jacket, while also sending long strands of chestnut-brown hair around her face. She glanced over at Sara, who also shivered before burrowing closer to her boyfriend, Ron. She cast a quick look at Ron’s cousin, visiting from a college two states away, and dismissed the idea of snuggling up to him. Within thirty minutes, she had realized she didn’t like him.

  “Where do you want to start?” Ron asked, slipping his arm around Sara to pull her even closer.

  Troy scanned the fall carnival set up on the football field, and his nose curled. “It’s all pretty lame.”

  Ron nodded. “Yeah. This is what Huxley Junior College spent the homecoming fund on.”

  Sara’s lean face twisted into a grimace. “Whatever happened to dances? Who wants a stupid carnival?”

  “I like it,” Emily said. “It reminds me of being a kid again.”

  Troy eyed her slowly, focusing his eyes on her chest. “You aren’t a kid, Em.”

  “Emily.”

  “Yeah, whatever. You’re almost an adult. Wait until you transfer to NYU next year. Then you’ll see.”

  She rolled her eyes, but gave him a smile. From the stories he had related thus far, Troy spent all of his college time partying, squeaking by in his studies and scoring with chicks. She doubted the last boast, but not because he wasn’t handsome. He was. He was probably six-two and muscular, with thick brown hair and blue eyes. Too bad he ruined his handsome exterior every time he opened his mouth.

  “How about the Spider?” Sara suggested. “When you go around the spin, it presses you against your partner.” She grinned up at Ron.

  She had no desire to share that ride with Troy, squished against him in a tiny car. “No.” Emily leveled her voice. “No, I don’t like that ride. How about the swings?” They were solo.

  Troy laughed, and it held an edge of mocking. “‘How about the swings.’ Jesus. You really do want to be a kid again, don’t you?”

  She huddled deeper in the fleece jacket, staring at the ground and deliberately avoiding eye contact with Troy. “What do you want to do?”

  His tone was suggestive. “How about the Tunnel of Love?”

  Ron shook his head. “It’s lame, Troy. They put up a big tent, and you ride these little cars through. Only lasts about two minutes.”

  Sara frowned. “How do you know? Have you been on with some other girl?”

  He sighed loudly. “No. I came to the field earlier and watched when they were setting up.” Ron’s expression changed, becoming secretive and malicious. “You guys wanna see something?”

  “What?” Emily looked at him with narrowed eyes.

  He gestured them closer, so they were in a loose circle. “They have an honest-to-God freak. Like out of a show.”

  Sara’s mouth dropped open. “Really? Where?”

  Troy looked skeptical. “How do you mean freak?”

  “He’s all twisted and deformed. C’mon. I’ll show you.”

  “I don’t think so—”

  “Don’t be a spoilsport, Em.”

  She gnashed her teeth and trailed behind the three of them as they walked through the crowd, moving across the small carnival. Her feet crunched dead leaves on the field, and the wind picked up a little more, blowing dirt in her eyes. She blinked and slowed, removing her contacts to clear her eyes.

  By the time she caught up with the three of them, they were standing in line for the funhouse. She bit her lip, hesitating to go inside, but reluctant to mention her fear of the barrels all funhouses had. As a kid, she had been afraid she would be sucked into one and never find her way out. That was before she realized how they worked, but the remnants of fear remained.

  “Took you long enough,” Troy said.

  She inserted one of the contacts in her left eye, and then the other in her right. Emily blinked until the world came into focus again. She shivered at the lurid images on the funhouse. Vampires seemed to be a big theme. In the near left corner, a caped Dracula-type prepared to feast on the neck of a girl wearing a Victorian-era dress. In the top corner of the trailer, a hoard of vampires moved across a cemetery, forever frozen in ferocious and twisted postures. The most chilling picture of all was the handsome face painted in the center of the trailer’s montage. His features were perfect, even if he was too pale, and his dark hair was combed straight back. He looked like any other model for any type of ad, except for the single drop of blood dripping down his chin from the corner of his mouth. His eyes held an element that made Emily shudder. She didn’t know why they bothered her. Maybe because the eyes seemed to possess terrible knowledge no human would ever know.

  “I don’t want to go in.”

  Sara groaned. “It’ll be fun, Emily.”

  Troy put his arm around her. “We’re not here just for the funhouse.”

  She shrugged him off and took a step away. “Then why—”

  He pointed to the person taking tickets. “That’s why.” He snickered.

  At first glance, she thought the man was simply a midget. Emily looked again when Sara gasped. She realized he was probably of normal height—or would be if his twisted spine didn’t cause him to stand in an awkward position, nearly bent over. It should have been impossible for him to stand at all. His legs were stumpy and misshapen. He seemed to be missing one arm completely, but the other was industriously taking tickets and moving the turnstile to admit customers to the funhouse.

  “He’s hideous.” Sara shuddered, burying her face in Ron’s jacket. She moved it away from her eyes so she could peek before shivering again. “Is that the freak?”

  “Sure is. I saw him eating cotton candy earlier. Can you imagine? Something like that should eat stuff like fish guts and raw beef liver.”

  “Yuck.” Sara’s disgust was evident, but also mingled with titillation. “How do you think it happened?”

  Emily frowned at her friend’s avid curiosity. “The poor man was probably born that way. It’s amazing he’s standing and working.”

  Troy laughed. “Amazing? It’s a freak show.”

  The ticket taker suddenly raised his head, and his cloudy brown eyes seemed to focus on them. His face was the most misshapen of all, as if he had survived a fire. The skin had grown back in bubbles and raw pink areas. A flap of membrane had grown over half of his mouth and one nostril, barely missing his left eye. The flesh unaffected by what appeared to be fire damage still looked rough, bumpy and pale.

  “Shush. I think he heard you.”

  Troy shrugged. “Who cares? He’s probably a retard too. I bet he doesn’t understand a word.”

  “Lower your voice,” Emily snapped, standing straight. “How would you like it if someone—”

  “Spare me the morality lecture.” He forced a huge yawn, but his voice lowered an octave, taking on a theatrical lilt. “I bet he wasn’t born like tha
t. He was probably evil and sent to the devil in a former life. He was forced to look like a demon while living among people like us.”

  Sara and Ron absorbed every word, but Emily rolled her eyes again. “You know how often Satan assigns his minions to funhouse duties.”

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  She gave him a sweet smile, but didn’t answer as they advanced in the line. Once more, her eyes fell on the vampire dominating the funhouse’s façade. For a moment, she swore the eyes followed her. Then she shook her head and dug in her fanny pack for three tickets.

  She froze when a bloodcurdling scream issued from inside the funhouse. Emily’s doubts about entering returned. The one and only time she had gone in, at the age of eight with Sara, she became stuck on the barrel, paralyzed with fear, and unable to go forward or back. Sara had to drag her through. She remembered her desperate flight from that small, smelly trailer. She had ignored the attractions, too consumed with the need to escape. The relief of reentering the bright sunshine that long ago summer day came back to her. “I really don’t want to go in.”

  Troy shook his head. “Are you going to stay out and talk to the freak?”

  Once more, the man looked in their direction, making Emily cringe with embarrassment at her friends’ behavior. She nudged Troy with her elbow and hurried forward to offer her tickets. Anything to get Troy away from the poor guy. She yelped when he elbowed her in return, before cutting ahead of her.

  Troy very carefully handed over his tickets. “That’s one, two, three. See?” He pointed to the sign reading “3 Tickets for Admission”, scrawled in sloppy red writing. “Exactly the amount I need for admission. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” The man’s voice was surprisingly clear. His words were sharp and crisp with a New England accent, despite the flap of skin marring half of his mouth. “Three tickets for the time of your life.”

  Troy snickered. “In there? You have to be kidding.”

  The ticket taker gave him a half-smile. “It’s to die for.”

  Emily waited for Sara and Ron to give their tickets. Neither said anything, but their repulsion was evident. The man didn’t seem to notice, although his eyes looked like they were tearing up. Finally, reluctantly, she handed him three tickets.

  He took the strip and paused, staring up at her. He shook his head and tried to give back the tickets. “No. You can’t go in. This attraction isn’t for you.”

  She reached for the tickets, but Troy intercepted. He pushed the man’s hand away, causing him to drop the vouchers. Troy ground the tickets into the dirt, kicking them into a puddle of spilled soda and dirt, getting them muddy. “Look what you’ve done. You’re useless.”

  The man frantically lifted the tickets and wiped at them before trying to hand them back to Emily. “You can’t go in. Take these tickets back, and it won’t count.”

  A frisson of fear pulled its way up her spine. She frowned and reached for the scraps of paper. “I’ll just wait for you guys.”

  Troy shook his head, shoving the man’s shoulder and sending him sprawling in the dirt. “Your job is to take the tickets, retard. Now take them, or I’ll report you to your boss.”

  The man’s eyes widened with fear. “Not the master.”

  “Yes, the master.” Troy swaggered forward, grabbing Emily’s arm to drag her forward. “I showed him.”

  “Yeah, a poor crippled guy who probably isn’t all there mentally. You really showed him.” She glared at him, even as she wondered if the ticket taker had been mentally impaired. His eyes had appeared intelligent, as had his words. His fear had transmitted itself to her, multiplying with her worry and making her even more reluctant to enter.

  She hesitated at the entrance, confronted with a spiraling barrel. Red and green spun together in an almost hallucinogenic pattern. This must be like what her mother called an acid trip from her college days. Emily found her eyes focused on the whirling colors, unable to tear away her gaze. She watched them blend until she seemed to be seeing past the colors, to some shadowy place beyond.

  “Jesus, just go.” Troy pushed her forward.

  Emily stumbled and cried out, falling toward the spinning barrel. She landed hard, smashing her elbow into the side of the portal. Once inside the barrel, she realized it wasn’t moving nearly as fast as she had thought, and scooted forward a few inches, until accustomed to the spinning. Then she got to her feet and walked sideways through the barrel, balancing herself with her hands against the smooth plastic until she emerged just in time to avoid having Troy push her out of the way, as he came up behind her.

  “Took you long enough,” he said, shaking his head.

  Emily turned her back on him, standing in the dark room and waiting for her eyes to adjust to the periodic bursts of strobe lights coming from the ceiling. She jumped when someone touched her arm.

  “You’re so on edge,” Sara said.

  “I hate these things.” She saw Ron trying to catch up with Troy, who hadn’t bothered to wait for anyone. “You know how much the barrel scares me.”

  Sara appeared to shrug. It was difficult to tell by the way that the strobe light seemed to change everyone’s movements to slow motion. “You made it through with Troy’s help.”

  “He pushed me.” She rubbed her elbow, grimacing at the pain shooting up her arm.

  “He had to get you moving.” Her voice dropped. “Isn’t he cute?”

  “Yeah. Too bad he’s a jerk.”

  Sara sighed. “I can’t please you, can I? You’re never satisfied.”

  “It isn’t that—”

  “I’m not setting you up anymore, Emily. You won’t even try to snag a great guy like Troy.”

  Emily gave up trying to justify her reasons for not liking her blind date. “Please don’t arrange dates for me in the future. The guys you’ve set me up with—”

  Sara tossed back her blonde hair. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d never date. There’s always something wrong with them, isn’t there?” Her eyes narrowed. “Did you ever think maybe the problem’s with you?”

  She tried to hide her hurt from Sara’s words. “Maybe.” She shrugged. “For whatever reason, I haven’t met a man who interests me.” Regardless of whether they were a set-up from Sara or someone of her own choosing, each boy she had dated in high school and college hadn’t measured up. She wasn’t sure to what standard she held them, but they all fell short, even if she didn’t know exactly what she sought in a partner.

  Sara sniffed. “Yeah, well, you’d better change, or you’ll end up alone.”

  Emily glared at her friend. “That’s fine with me. I like being alone.”

  “Well, fine then. I’ll leave you alone.” Sara hurried after Ron and Troy, who had disappeared into the next chamber, not bothering to look back as she moved from Emily’s sight.

  Emily watched her go, regretting the small argument. She had no desire to be alone in this funhouse. With feet frozen to the spot, she knew the only way out was through the funhouse or back through the barrel. She glanced through the spinning barrel—careful not to fixate on the colors this time—and saw a new group preparing to enter.

  She forced her feet forward, moving from the dark entryway to the next chamber, freezing when she saw hundreds of clones surrounding her. Emily almost cried out before realizing it was the hall of mirrors. Her eyes focused on a short, fat image of her, and she imagined how it must be for the man taking the tickets. Damn Troy for being such a jerk. People like him must make the man’s life even more miserable.

  She walked straight through the room, determined to escape the funhouse in record time. “Humph.” Her breath left her when she ran into a wall directly in front of her. She blinked, trying to figure out why it was in the middle of the room. It took a long moment to realize it must be a maze of mirrors. She cursed under her breath and felt for the edge of the glass. The space next to it was empty air, so she slid around the mirror. “Why does it have to be so dark?” she whispered, reassured by the soun
d of her voice.

  She held out a hand to find the next mirror and was able to take several steps before running into it. Emily felt for the edge and gasped as her finger caught on a sharp edge. She pulled away quickly and examined the wound under the meager light. A glass shard extended from her index finger, and she grimaced while yanking it out.

  Emily searched in her pocket for a tissue and found a napkin she had stuffed there after their dinner of corn dogs and cotton candy. She wound it around the wound and eased past the next obstacle. To her relief, she entered a black-light room. She glanced at the walls, curious to see what other patrons had written with the special markers hanging in midair from steel lines attached to the ceiling.

  Lifetimes of waiting, Emily…

  You’re mine now.

  It’s to die for.

  She rolled her eyes at their silly messages. “Very funny, guys,” she called out, hoping they could hear her. Briefly tempted to write a less than complimentary reply to them, she held back, knowing Troy, Ron and Sara wouldn’t read her words unless they went through again.

  She glanced at the messages once more as she exited the room and froze.

  Eternity, Emily.

  She frowned, certain that hadn’t been there when she looked at the walls a second ago. She took a deep breath and relaxed, knowing her friends were responsible. Since Sara was angry with her, who knew what kind of tricks they might play. She scanned the room, searching for Troy, Sara or Ron hiding in a corner, but she was the only one in the small room. She took another deep breath, trying to restore her calm. The message had been there all along. In her distressed state, she had simply missed it the first time.

  She hurried from the room, stopping in front of the stairs. She eyed them cautiously, expecting them to start shaking. They were probably motion-activated. She grasped the railings on each side, dropping the napkin wrapped around her finger. Emily bent to pick it up, but the stairs started to rattle, distracting her. She held onto the rails and climbed up each step. About halfway up, she realized they always trembled to the left, then back to the right before pausing for a moment. She counted the intervals before taking another step. As soon as she had it timed, she was able to walk up the remainder without fear of falling.