Dark Moon (Nightmare Hall) (5 page)

Alice knows that now. She checked that horse’s coat thoroughly before she tossed that saddle blanket over his pale, shiny back, didn’t she? There were no burrs anywhere in sight. If there had been, she would have lovingly, carefully removed them. When that horse she trusted so much threw her, her last thought must have been, I don’t understand. So she died knowing, as the others do not, that there are many, many things in this world that make no sense.

They need to learn that. They need to stop their ridicule, their crude jokes, their stupid, careless contempt for the paranormal. Fools!

And with your help, oh, shiny, silver Moon, I can see to it that they do stop. Together, we can see to it that they learn their lesson.

Especially her. She’s the worst. She says that ESP and telekinesis and all special powers are phony, but she’s the real phony. She thinks I don’t know it, but I do. She’s scared to death that this whole week is going to be a big disaster and that everyone will blame her. I can see it in her eyes.

All I have to do is make sure that when that happens, exactly as she feared, she’ll understand that it really had nothing to do with her. That I was the one who wrecked it all. Me. All by myself

Well, not exactly all by myself. I do need your help.

And I know you’ll come through for me.

All that screaming today, all those people flying through the air, the sound of bones snapping like breadsticks, wasn’t that exciting? Lovely sounds, just lovely. Well worth the wait.

And more of the same on the way.

All the joking, all the laughter, will turn on them. And guess who’s going to have the last laugh?

Me.

When I was little, my mother used to say that my father was so proud of me, he acted like I’d hung the Moon.

Was he right? Is that why you’re always on my side?

I can still hear all that screaming ringing in my ears.

What a lovely sound.

I can hardly wait to hear it again.

T
HE MIRROR MAZE WAS
a squat, windowless building that had been set up at the rear of the carnival site, a safe distance away from the loud music and shrill screams of the other rides. There was no line at the ticket booth, and no one seemed to be going into or coming out of the box-shaped structure with three narrow wooden steps leading up to the entrance. A painted sign over the door read, AMAZING MIRROR MAZE! YOU MAY NEVER COME OUT!

The girl sitting on a stool in the booth was attempting to read a textbook. Her eyes were half-closed with boredom. “Hasn’t been busy at all,” she told them as she handed them their tickets. “The maze is pretty tame stuff compared to the Devil’s Elbow and Hell on Wheels and The Snake.” She made a face of displeasure. “I thought I’d get some homework done, but I also thought I’d see at least a few friendly faces. I’ve had more fun sound asleep.”

Eve smiled. “Remember, it’s for a good cause.”

The girl quirked an eyebrow at her. “You
would
say something like that,” and returned to her book.

Eve flushed, wishing Garth hadn’t heard that remark. It made her sound so … so pompous or self-righteous or something. But the really scary thing was, it was exactly the kind of thing her mother often said.

Nell Forsythe had never remarried, filling her life instead with charity committees, things she liked to call “good works.” Eve had been enlisted to help more than once, and whenever anyone, including Eve, complained about the long hours or the hard work, Nell would tighten her lips and say, “Remember, it’s for a good cause.”

I sounded exactly like her a minute ago, Eve thought, shuddering. Everyone said that girls always turned into their mothers. It was a fear that haunted Eve every day of her life. Was it already happening? So soon?

“Scared?” Garth said, seeing her shudder. “It’s not a haunted house, Eve, it’s just a maze of mirrors.”

“No,” she said quickly, “why would I be scared?” She wasn’t about to confess to him what she was really afraid of. She hardly knew him. “But I wish there were more people here. It’s awfully quiet.”

And indeed, once they were inside the low-ceilinged building, the quiet deepened. The place was well lit so that people could make their way through the intricate maze. But every footstep on the scuffed floor echoed like tom-toms. Although it was still warm outside, inside it seemed damp and chilly to Eve. Suddenly, her plaid cotton blouse wasn’t nearly warm enough. She had to hug her arms around her chest to keep from shivering.

“You
are
scared,” Garth said, stopping at the entrance to the maze to look down at her with concerned eyes. “We don’t have to go in here, Eve. We can find something else to do.”

“I’m not scared,” she repeated. “I’m just cold. No wonder people are steering clear of this place. You could store fresh meat in here and it wouldn’t spoil.”

Garth laughed. “It’s not that cold. Good for the circulation. So, you ready or what?”

“Ready.” At least the place wasn’t dark. It would be stupid to fill a place with mirrors and then make it too dark for anyone to see their reflection. Still, the place
felt
dark. Maybe because it was so cold and quiet. “We
are
staying together, right?”

“Of course.”

The mirrors lining the maze’s passageways were ordinary mirrors, not the curvy, wavy ones found in funhouses at amusement parks. The long, narrow glass sections were lined up along the walls like soldiers marching down a field. Only the ceiling and floor were wood.

Garth was disappointed. “Well, this is a bust,” he said as they slowly wound their way from one passageway into another, constantly facing their own reflections.

“It’s not that I don’t enjoy looking at your reflection, because I do, but I’m already sick of my own face staring back at me. There have to be a lot more interesting things to do at a carnival than see myself multiplied before my very eyes. One of me is more than enough. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Eve agreed, and decided that the Mirror Maze wasn’t going to be bringing in big bucks. Maybe they’d make it up on the other rides.

But getting out of the maze proved to be easier said than done.

“This is ridiculous!” Garth said when they had retraced their steps three times. Each time, instead of arriving at the exit, they found themselves facing twelve more mirror images of themselves. Ten mirror sections lined each side of the wall, with each glass panel repeating the image in the panel beside it. The two double end panels did the same. There were twenty-four Garths and twenty-four Eves staring back at them, and all twenty-four faces looked annoyed.

There was no evidence of an exit anywhere near them.

“I was sure we came in this way,” Eve murmured, “weren’t you?”

Garth nodded grimly. “Okay, let’s try turning left,” he said, moving ahead of her. “Not that we have much choice. The exit’s gotta be in this direction.”

But it wasn’t. They encountered only another dead end.

“I’ll go first this time,” Eve said, turning around. She could feel her nerves beginning to fray. She was beginning to hate the sight of all those Eves and Garths, and she wanted
out.

“Ouch,” Garth said from behind her when she took the lead. “Do you have any idea how humiliating it is for a former Eagle Scout to let someone else go first in a search?”

But Eve knew he was following as, stepping up the pace, she wove steadily in and out of the narrow corridors, her hands feeling the walls, her eyes searching, for a way out. And she believed that he was still behind her when she reached yet another dead end and, sighing in exasperation, turned to face him.

He wasn’t there.

There was only, at the far end of the corridor, the shiny reflection of a tall, slender girl in a plaid blouse and navy blue skirt, her dark hair pulled severely away from a face that looked very pale. Her eyes seemed huge, as if the glass was magnifying them.

“Garth?” Her voice echoed eerily in the midst of all that quiet. “Garth?”

No answer.

Eve took a few uncertain steps forward. “Garth? Where are you?”

The only sound she heard was a sharp, angry thunderclap overhead, followed by a brutal gust of wind that rattled the building’s none-too-solid boards and made the glass panels shake.

It’s probably raining, too, Eve thought bitterly, although there was no rat-a-tat-tat sound on the roof. When I get out of here, it’ll be pouring and I’ll walk out into a sea of mud. Everyone will have gone home, like rats deserting a sinking ship.

When
I get out of here quickly changed to
if
I get out of here. Suddenly apprehensive, she whirled to retrace her steps again.

She had just turned yet another corner when a voice that seemed to come out of nowhere said softly,
“Eve. That’s not the way out.”

Eve stopped in her tracks. “Garth? Is that you?”

“Eve,”
the voice said again, so faintly Eve could barely hear it,
“you’re going the wrong way. But then, it really doesn’t matter, does it?”

Glancing around for any sign of another human being and finding nothing but her own reflection staring back at her, Eve pressed her back against the mirrored wall. The glass felt cold. “Who’s there? Who is that?”

“It doesn’t matter that you’re going the wrong way.”
The words were soft, as if encased in silk.
“Because you’re never going to get out of here.”
A low giggle.
“Not alive, anyway.”

Eve’s jaw dropped. The lights overhead, bouncing off the mirrored walls, hurt her eyes. “What … what are you talking about? Where
are
you?”

“Oh, Eve,”
in a regretful, almost sad voice,
“don’t get upset. I hate to see you wasting your energy looking for a way out. There isn’t one. Not for you.”

Eve’s head swung from side to side, her eyes searching, seeking, finding nothing, no physical form to attach to the disembodied whisper, nothing to reveal the location of her tormentor. She was still very much alone in the corridor, but twenty-four images of herself stared back at her as if to say,
You’ll get no help from us.
“This isn’t funny!” she cried. “What do you want? Why can’t you tell me the way out?”

The voice, although still low and hard to hear, sharpened slightly.
“I told you, there isn’t one. Not for you, Eve. Not ever.”

Suddenly, there was a sharp cracking sound and the end mirror on the wall opposite Eve, the one farthest from her, exploded in a shower of glass.

Eve gasped, one hand flying up to cover her mouth.

A second later, the mirror next to the first one exploded, then the third one, as if an invisible vandal were marching up the aisle toward Eve, tossing large, heavy objects into the glass panels opposite her. The worn, wooden floor was already littered with large and small fragments of glass, and where the mirrors had been only seconds before, gray-brown boards stared out at Eve.

Eve’s eyes took in the mess with horror. Navigating through it in her black flats would be dangerous.

A fourth mirror, no more than a few feet from Eve, shattered. A thick shard of glass narrowly missed her left arm.

There were only six mirrors left on that side of the wall. The last one was directly opposite Eve.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, and turned and ran, in the only direction open to her. She ran straight toward the carpet of glass.

Behind her, the voice called softly,
“Oh, didn’t I make myself clear? Running from me is a total waste of time.”

L
OOK AT HER RUN!
Feet in those flimsy little shoes flying over the broken glass. Should have worn sneakers, the little twit. Glass’ll slice right through those thin soles easy as slicing cheese. So proper, so perfect, so responsible, but too dumb to wear sneakers in a place full of glass.

Okay, so it wasn’t full of glass when she came in. But anything can happen in a house full of mirrors, right? Someone could have been watching when they put this building up and someone could then find a way into the passageways behind the panels and smack the mirrors good and hard from the back with, say, a big, fat hammer, so the glass explodes all over the place. That could happen.

She should have known that could happen. Always making lists, I’ve seen her. Should have put this on her list of Things That Can Happen.

Well, she knows it now.

Too late.

There she goes, running again. Yelling for help at the top of her lungs. Lot of good that’ll do her. I’m certainly not helping her. Why should I?

She took from me the best chance I had to show off my power to everyone. If I were heading this committee, the way I should have been, the way I would be if things were fair, I could have used my power to make this the best, most amazing celebration ever held anywhere. I could have done things that never could have been explained logically. Maybe I would have used my power to put on a giant fireworks display in the sky, just let them explode up there whenever I felt like it, without anything set up on the ground. No one would be able to explain that, that’s for sure, not even Miss Logical, Analytical Genius.

Fireworks would have popped everyone’s eyes, wouldn’t they? I know I could have pulled it off, especially with Moon out in full force, feeding my power.

Another scream … If she keeps making all that racket, someone could hear her, even over the carnival noise. If they come back here to check, I’d better be history. I know you’re watching, Moon. Helping me out. We make a great team. Thanks. I did good, didn’t I? Stay tuned. This is just the beginning. There’s much more to come, I promise.

A
RAZOR-SHARP SHARD OF
glass had penetrated the thin sole of Eve’s shoe and sliced upward. She screamed in shock and pain. Her face went white, but she stopped only long enough to reach down and yank the glass free. She tossed the glass aside and stumbled onward, sick and disoriented. Reeling around the corner, she struggled to get her bearings in the new passageway, its mirrors still intact.