Page 47 of Off the Rails

Cyrus and Blade had the north and western sectors of the park covered already. As much as I wanted to scour Superhero Central, I knew that it would be Blade’s second pick after Noir Nights.

Jealousy burned through my veins at the thought of Blade getting Tess all alone again. But worse was the idea that she wasn’t there at all. That she’d end up in Cyrus’ sector, or worse, across the park entirely.

Making the best of the hand I’d been dealt, I resigned myself to searching the east. Better to lose one precious night with her than to let her escape entirely.

Working out in a spiral from the jungle, I hit Prize Alley, the Old Frontier, and Rapid Rush. But no luck. My fear grew with each passing hour. Soon, the colors in the sky began to shift, midnight blue shifting to deep purple. My heart was thundering in my chest.

Could the cards be wrong? Is tonight not my night?

Apparently, it wasn’t Nash or Cyrus’ either, though. As I stalked along the shadows, I could hear them in the distance, calling out to Tess or smashing through doorways. I’d caught a glimpse of Blade at the edge of the Old Frontier, panic clear in the set of her shoulders.

Our prophecy hadn’t accounted for Tess escaping. And unless something changed in the next hour, everything was about to come crumbling down around us.

But it wasn’t Cyrus’ revenge that I was worried about. After years of waiting, I wasn’t sure that I could survive losing Tess — now that I knew who she was, I never wanted to let her go.

My mind racing, I picked up the pace as I strode under the dishstack archway at the mouth of Colossal Kitchen. Hardly anyone tried to hide in here — mostly kiddie rides that didn’t provide much cover.

I skimmed over my surroundings but didn’t bother to search very hard. Instead, my focus was on where to head next. I only had enough time to search one more sector.

But then, heavy retching echoed from down the lane. My eyes darted across the faux kitchen, landing on the dizzying dance of the teacup ride.

Shaggy blonde hair whipped in every direction. Tess leaned over the edge of the ride, gripping her cup tightly. Her stomach tried to empty itself, but there was no poison to purge: just the relentless rotation of the ride.

Got you, Sweet Lamb.

My shoulders finally loosened. I’d never been so relieved to see someone puke. I couldn’t believe that I’d found her in time — that I was the only one to find her.

But the sky was already shifting from deep purple to pink and orange. I wasn’t going to waste another second and let her win on some technicality. I’d already waited for her long enough.

Slamming my mallet down on the platform, I vaulted onto the ride. My footsteps were light in comparison to my hammer, which shook the cups each time I set it down for balance.

Cars swirled past, sending up gusts of wind all around me. But I didn’t take my eyes off the pink one toward the center of the ride: my Sweet Lamb’s cup of tea.

When the retching stopped, Tess lifted her spinning head. She struggled to focus her bleary vision on me, but that didn’t stop the fear dripping from her every pore.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I dodged between two cups, drawing ever closer.

I never would have bothered searching this section if it wasn’t so close to Jungle Jolt. But despite my doubts, the cards never led me wrong. And now, it was finally time to claim my prize.

28

TESS

What I could make out between the pulsing in my ears was minimal. A bang that made the ride shake. Lithe footsteps across the platform. A mallet dragging roughly over the surface.

Fuck.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I caught a blurry glimpse of Nash’s painted mask as her broad frame stalked closer across the ride.

Shit.

Terror coursed through me like glass through a wound. I was so close — so fucking close. I’d laid on my side at the base of the teacup, doing my best to dissociate from the torture.

I’d been fighting back nausea for hours, and I was so close to being done.

Even through clenched eyelids, I could see the sky was lightening. I was probably less than an hour from victory.

But all of it was for nothing. Fucking Nash.