By Peter B. and Art Intelli
Chapter Two: The Pact
The carnival grounds were alive with motion.
Roustabouts shouted as they packed up the rides, wooden crates slammed shut, and performers griped about their costumes and gear. The air was thick with smoke from dying cookfires, the scent of fried food still clinging to the night. The whole place pulsed with the urgency of moving on.
I wove through the chaos, heart pounding. I was afraid I wouldn’t find him in time, that maybe he had already left.
But then I saw him.