He made an impatient noise. “Come here.” He pulled me into him, and then we were kissing.
I closed my eyes and saw carnival lights. Lucas tasted like sugar and water. His mouth moved over mine, sweet and hot. I reached up a hand to cup his cheek. It was soft, with just a hint of scruff under my palm. I stroked my fingers down to his shoulder, and we drew away from each other, shaky and smiling.
“I feel like I maybe wandered into the Tunnel of Love and inhaled some of that stuff,” Lucas said, his voice warm and soft.
I laughed, shivery all over. “Trust me, you didn’t. I wandered in there once when I was younger, and it was like…” I wrinkled my nose. “My head felt like it was full of bad poetry and chocolate boxes. I told Otto I loved him. And Throckmorton.”
“So”—he kissed along my ear—“it’s like … Hallmark love in there. Not real love.”
“Exactly.” I wanted to kiss him again, but the image of a Hallmark card, the one with a bunch of balloons on the front, was suddenly vivid in my mind.
I pulled away from Lucas. “Wait a second.”
He looked dazed, and my lipstick had left pink marks on his skin. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Or potentially everything.” I put my hands flat on his chest. “How do you know your mom ran away?”
“My mom?” He stared at me. “You want to talk about my mom? Okay. She left a note.”
“Do you remember what it said?”
Still looking at me like I was out of my mind, he reached into his pocket and produced his wallet. It was the kind with lots of small plastic compartments. Inside one of them, untouched by the water, was a folded-up piece of paper.
He handed it to me. It was creased and crushed and torn, but I could still read the words: Can’t stay … Don’t blame yourself … Don’t expect to hear from me.
I pressed the note to my chest and stared at him. “Lucas. We have a problem.”
* * *
In the morning, a loud bang woke me up. It was followed by a hair-raising growl. I went to the door, wrapped in a fuzzy pink bathrobe, with a candelabra in one hand, ready to bash any threatening beasties over the head with it.
I threw the door open. Uncle Walter stood on my front steps. Azatoth slurked behind him on his black metal chain, an unwholesome dent of darkness in the middle of the trampled grass.
“I’ve got something for you, Lulu.” Uncle Walter held out a manila envelope. “Your daddy running off like he did, well, it made for something of a legal tangle. You and me, we’re going to have to make some decisions about the carnival. I was thinking of keeping it open through September, for instance, maybe heading south where it’s warmer.”
“Okay.” Was it me, or did Walter sound folksier than usual? I took the envelope, which was stuffed with a thick sheaf of papers. I didn’t see any harm in staying open into the fall. “I’ll sign it and give it back to you later.”
He grinned—not a very nice grin. “Why? You got company?”
I was suddenly glad Lucas had left. We’d stopped kissing the night before so we could discuss the notes from our parents and argue about what to do next. When I kicked him out at three a.m., we were still arguing.
“None of your business,” I said, starting to close the door.
He grabbed the door and held it. I tried to push it closed, but I couldn’t. Walter was a lot stronger than he looked.
“See you at the Shack, Lulu,” he said, and let go. The door banged shut. Even through it, I could hear Azatoth hiss.
* * *
“Fast Eddie?” Lucas said. “You know a guy named Fast Eddie?”
“Yep,” I said. It was the next night, and I was manning the Snack Shack. I’d put up a hand-lettered sign saying “Out Of Everything No Food” so people would leave me alone. “He’s a lawyer. He’s fast at producing contracts.”
“Lulu…” He leaned on the counter. Lucas was wearing a black shirt tonight, and, for some reason, it made his skin look tan and his eyes really green. I wanted to jump across the counter and kiss him, but business first.
“Something is going on. My dad ran off and your mom ran off. They left notes that were practically identical. They both said to expect not to hear from them.” I crossed my arms across my chest. “You know what else is weird? Otto left me his number and a forwarding address when he left, but no matter how often I call, no one ever picks up.”
“People are unreliable,” Lucas said. “You can’t depend on them. You want to talk about weird? Walter’s been squirreling away potions. He’s definitely up to something, I just don’t know what.”
“Lulu! Over here, Lulu!” It was Fast Eddie, waving.
Fast Eddie had come up through the carnival world. When I was little, he used to run the carousel. Then he’d gone to law school. He said the dark carnival had been perfect training. He came from a carnival family; people said they had some vampire in them. Maybe they did. I only ever saw Eddie at night, and he was awfully pale. But I try not to judge.
“Hey, Eddie. Snow cone? It’s on the house.”
He shook his head. “What’s happening? Why the urgent summons?”
“It’s about my dad. And—”
“Speedy Edward!” It was my uncle Walter. I reached to yank down the OUT OF EVERYTHING sign, but Lucas had already done it. He dropped the sign behind the counter and turned to his stepfather. Walter was beaming, but it was that slippery-shark smile. “Edward, it’s been a long time.”
Fast Eddie touched the brim of his hat. “It’s Eddie, thanks. Fast Eddie.”
“You’re in law now, I hear,” Walter said. “Why I remember when you used to run the carousel.” He glanced over at me. “Decided to have a lawyer look over those papers I gave you, huh?”
Lucas shot me a weird look. I hadn’t mentioned the papers to him yet. I’d told Eddie about them on the phone.
“I look over everything for Lulu,” Fast Eddie said, although this was a lie. “Family friend and all that.”
“Good to see you’ve got business sense. Not like your dad.” He gave me a nod, but he didn’t look pleased. “Drop the papers off at my trailer when you’re done with them, you hear?”
I made a face. No one liked going to Walter’s trailer because Azatoth slept nearby, chained to a giant tree stump. In the middle of the night, he howled like a lonely train. I didn’t know how Lucas could stand it.
Walter walked off, shoulders hunched. I took the manila envelope out from underneath the counter and handed it to Eddie. He pulled out the thick stack of papers and whistled.
“Lulu, what’s this? Why is your uncle giving you a bunch of papers that say you’re signing the carnival over to him? You don’t own the carnival—your dad does. Where is he, anyway?”
“He ran off. Didn’t you hear? Apparently he owed money all over.”
But Fast Eddie was already shaking his head. “No chance. Your dad was great with money. He had a college fund for you, a 401(k), a SEP IRA—”
“This is alphabet soup, Eddie,” I said. “What are you talking about?”
“Your dad didn’t owe anyone,” he said firmly. “And, anyway, if anything did happen to him, the carnival belongs to you as long as Mephit’s alive.”
“As long as Mephit’s alive?” I echoed. “Really?”
Fast Eddie nodded. “A demon is what makes a carnival what it is. A different demon means a different carnival. But Mephit’s one of the old ones—he ought to live a thousand years. So why would you want to sign over the fair?”
“I wouldn’t.” I glanced over to see Lucas’s reaction, but he had slipped away into the night, following his stepfather. I turned back to Eddie. “I’d never give up this place, or Mephit, or any of it.”
“I didn’t think so.” He handed the envelope back to me. “You be careful, Lulu, you hear me? I don’t think much of any of this.”