Dead End: Midnight Hollow by Penn Cassidy (free novel 24 TXT) 📗

back and swung with my palm spread wide to get the full effect. My slap echoed off his cheek as his head snapped to the left. Finally, steel grey eyes flickered down at me, burning with hatred. Hatred I could take, since I’d grown accustomed to it, but he needed to move before these clowns stopped toying with us and fucking killed us. We really would be staying here forever then.

“Jason, I don’t give a flying hell if I’m being huge bitch right now, but I’m not about to get bludgeoned to death by a fucking clown, so get a fucking move on now!” I demanded, gripping his hand until my fingernails were digging into his skin.

In less time than it took to blink, he took off like there was a fire lit under his ass, dragging me along for the ride. I yelped and heard Jessica screech as she latched on tight with her tiny claws. We heard footsteps pounding the pavement behind us, and I swear I’d never seen Jason run so fast, not even during basketball practice. We kept running, turning down the bend in the road and practically toppling over.

“Keep going!” I shouted at Jason’s back, and I did wonder if he would leave me if I fell behind.

Haunting laughter echoed through the empty streets, as well as the honking of that damn clown horn. My heart was ready to burst out of my chest, but soon, the bright lights of the motel were long behind us and no sign of any painted face creeps followed. They probably just meant to spook us and turned around when we fled, unless they were waiting for us somewhere in the dark? They were probably laughing about it right now.

My aunties and I lived on Hill Street, which ran straight into Main Street after the bend, but as I looked at the signs, I had to stop and look around at my surroundings. The sign said Horror Hill Street now. I shook my head, knowing I was in the right place, regardless of what the stupid sign said. I was dying inside and swore I’d never run again in my whole life.

Jason was bent over at the waist as he sucked in giant lungfuls of air, all the while looking at me through narrowed eyes. “Not a word to anyone, goth girl.” He held my eyes for a few moments before shaking his head, then he straightened and continued down the street, where we could just make out the silhouettes of the others waiting for us.

Not a word. Got it. That was fine with me.

Ya see here, as a private dick-tective, getting your hands dirty just came with the territory, and it just so happened I was the dummy for the job.

He came to me on a cold fall night, when the wind howled like wild dogs as the clock struck midnight. Behind the alley of the blood bank, the fella had a hat covering his ugly mug and handed over her photo without saying a word. The job was clear—find the broad, but keep my mitts off her.

I might just be a simple puppet, my strings pulled by a man much bigger than me, but the fella was a boob. I scooted out of there and got to work on finding the girl. They called me the Marionette, but my friends called me Roger. My hollow limbs made it easy to blend in with the shadows of the town of Midnight Hollow, even with the streets quiet, save for my wooden shoes tapping on the sidewalk. It was a lonely night to be out in the cold darkness, but it gave me time to think.

What’s a fella like him doin’ looking for a gal like her?

A flash of orange hair caught my eyes. Luck was on my side today, it would seem. The gal was with a gang of people, and they ran around the corner, heading towards the street just before the clown motel. It would make my task harder to watch from a distance, but I was up for the job. I needed to stay on their heels if I wanted to gather the information.

Tucking my trench coat tighter against the chill in the air and lowering my fedora over my eyes, I followed in swift pursuit, as limber as a baby deer, all the while taking notes of just who this broad really was and what she was made of.

It was my house, but also, it wasn’t. We all stood there on the edge of what used to be Auntie Fe’s coveted rose garden, which was instead blooming with what looked like night jasmine. A narrow cobblestone pathway led us to the double front door of the old-school Victorian home that was both familiar and foreign at the same time.

Even the guys had their jaws hanging open. My aunties had lived in this same house for as long as I could remember, and I knew without a doubt it was supposed to be painted slate grey with dark green shutters and trim. I knew it as well as I knew my own name. But here we stood, staring up at the familiar façade, except it was now a deep plum purple with black painted shutters and matching trim. The windows were all replaced with intricate patterns of stained glass, and there were three rocking chairs on the front porch that had never been there before.

“I knew we shouldn’t have eaten the carnival food,” Maddie muttered, braiding her hair over her shoulder, which was a nervous habit.

I snorted. “You think we’re tripping right now?”

She shrugged. “How else do you explain this?” She gestured to the house dubiously.

“Normally, I’d agree with you, but I didn’t eat or drink anything. So, unless I’m tripping via osmosis or something…”

“I don’t see what the big fuss is,” Jessica chimed in with a squeaky little voice. She crawled out from under my hair.