At the end of the street, maybe a hundred yards away, a carousel spun in a slow, lazy circle. Unlike the game booths and the Ferris wheel, it glimmered with dozens of twinkling lights, though the creatures that made up the ride were definitely not child-friendly. Horses bared bloody teeth as they spun around on their poles, many twisted into unnatural positions of agony, their eyes mad and white. The other “mounts” were just as horrific. Slavering wolves, giant spiders and a bear with a small child in its jaws were a few of the nightmares frozen in plaster, all spinning around to the cheerful tune I’d heard before.
Kenzie, following my gaze, drew in a sharp breath. “That’s the anchor,” she said quietly. “The very center of the carnival.”
“Yes,” Grimalkin agreed. “Destroy the carousel, and this reality will disappear. Without the anchor, everything will fade back into the Between. You will have to do it quickly, though. The denizens that make up this world are none too pleased with you.”
“Great. So, how do we destroy it?” I asked, looking down at the cat. Only to find that he was gone.
Something moved in the corner of my eye. I looked into the nearest game booth...as one of the teddy bears dislodged itself from the wall, crawled onto the counter and bared sharp little teeth at me. And then I noticed that all the toys, dolls and stuffed animals had turned their heads and were staring at us, eyes glowing like hot coals in the shadows of the booths.
I don’t think I’ve ever run so fast in my life.
High-pitched voices shrieked and babbled at us as we fled down the fairway, and several things leaped off the walls, trying to grab us as we ran. A porcelain doll with a cracked face staggered into the road in front of Kenzie, holding up its arms; Kenzie kicked the thing away like it was soccer ball and didn’t slow down. A red-eyed clown doll sprang at me from one of the counters, miniature butcher knife in one gloved hand. I smacked it away with my sword and kept running.
We reached the carousel, and as we got close, the animals came to life, snarling and thrashing against their poles, trying to bite us. I dodged a kick from a horse’s hoof and slashed my sword at a giant, blood-drenched white rabbit as it came around. The blade hacked through an ear, causing it to clatter to the floor, but it didn’t seem to affect the carousel itself.
“Get to the middle!” the Thin Man ordered, pointing through the mob of shrieking, hissing animals. Our reflections stared back at us from the mirrored center, a dozen Ethans, Kenzies and Thin Men, gazing out of gilded panels. “Smash the mirrors,” the Thin Man called, leaping onto the carousel. “The mirrors are the very center of this world. Destroy them and—” A dragon lashed out and clamped its jaws around his arm, and the Thin Man disappeared as he turned to deal with it.
I swore. “All right, guess I’m going in. Kenzie, maybe you can find something to throw at them? Maybe grab some baseballs from one of the booths?”
“Um, Ethan?” Kenzie said, her voice slightly strangled. “Not a great idea.” I looked back and saw a flood of stuffed animals and dolls staggering down the road at us, their eerie red eyes like a swarm of ants. Beyond them, and closing from all directions, was an army of clowns and circus freaks, twisted, deformed and looking pissed as hell.
My blood went cold. “Okay, then,” I gasped, turning back to the carousel, trying to find a break between snarling, writhing creatures. Spotting a hole between a leopard and the rabbit I’d smacked earlier, I grabbed Kenzie’s hand and yelled, “Jump!”
We leaped onto the carousel. The rabbit screamed and clawed, gnashing long front incisors, but thankfully couldn’t reach us. “Wait here,” I told Kenzie, as the other animals eyed us balefully and bared their teeth. I winced. Getting through unscathed was going to be difficult, but I’d rather I be the one gored by that evil-looking unicorn than Kenzie.
Without waiting for a reply, I started toward the center. A wolf snapped at me; I dodged aside. A tiger raked its claws at my head; I twisted just enough to catch it on the shoulder rather than the face, though it still tore a chunk from my arm and made my eyes water with pain. The last few feet to the mirrors were blocked by the unicorn and the bear, and I paused, trying to find a good time to dart through.
Kenzie let out a yelp. I looked back to see a clown, its painted mouth gaping to show jagged fangs, grab for the carousel, miss and stagger away. But as we spun around, I could see more things leaping onto the edges, clinging to the poles as the carousel whirled ever faster and the animals roared with rage.
“Dammit.” I spun, braced myself and dived through the opening, wincing as the unicorn’s horn jabbed me in the back. Rolling upright, I charged a panel, raised my sword and brought the hilt smashing down on the surface as hard as I could.
The glass shattered. And so did everything else. My reflection exploded into a dozen fragments and collapsed, just as the carousel, the carnival and the sky overhead did the same. Shards of reality rained down on us, as I staggered back to Kenzie, yanked her to me and covered her body with mine as best I could. I didn’t know what was happening with the clowns, the freaks and the killer toys; I just hoped we wouldn’t be cut to ribbons in the blink of an eye. Shrieks and screams rang out, and the air filled with the roar of a million chandeliers crashing all at once. And then, dead silence.
Cautiously, I looked up.
The carnival was gone. The tents and clowns and eerie booths were gone. Kenzie and I stood at the center of an ancient, run-down carousel, plaster horses cracked and peeling and definitely not alive. Around us, the Between stretched out, dark and misty and endless.