Read Online The Carnival of Lost Souls : A Handcuff Kid Novel by Laura Quimby - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Laura Quimby
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a pair of handcuffs from the bag and slapped them onto his wrist, securing the other end to the banister. “Let them try and take you now. Hide the key,
mi chico
! Hide the key!” Concheta made the sign of the cross, kissed the rosary that hung around her sweaty neck, and scuttled through the house to the back door.
“That’s not going to stop them,” the professor yelled after her. He turned to Jack. “Mussini and his minions are coming for you.”
“Minions?” Jack’s voice cracked. Jack yanked and pulled at the cuff. She had twisted the clasp so tightly that there was no give, no play between his wrist bone and the hard steel.
And then it hit him. Jack remembered the warning from the kids in the park: the occult, the grave robbers, and ghosts—
los muertos
.
The professor’s dark gaze locked on to him and he said, “She’s right. It is
los muertos
, my boy.”
Jack’s throat was dry. He could barely say the words. “The dead.”
“Go with them to their domain. This is your destiny now.” The professor let go of Jack’s arm and vanished down the hallway, leaving the Handcuff Kid alone in the stairwell.
“Come back!” Jack screamed, yanking on the handcuff locking him to the banister. “Don’t leave me here!” The house echoed with his voice. “Stupid jerk!” Hot tears welled up in his eyes. The front door slammed shut, and the house was suddenly quiet. “Stupid handcuff!” Jack coughed and punched the wall. Resting his forehead against the banister, he tried to calm himself down.
Jack thought about a show he saw on the nature channel about bear attacks. The worst thing a person could do was run, because bears are surprisingly fast runners, not lumbering Yogi Bear snatching a picnic basket. Curling up into a ball like a pathetic baby was a person’s only chance. Jack heard heavy footsteps coming from the professor’s office. A hundred tiny currents of fear rippled through his body, waiting for the swipe of the claws, for the bear to rip his guts out and milesof intestines to fall onto the floor.
Get a grip
, he thought. Whatever was coming for him, he still had a chance to get away. He had to try.
Jack snatched the shim from his shoe and went to work on the cuff attached to the banister, not the wrist one, so the cuffs would still be with him when they opened. He slipped the shim inside the lock, but his hands were sweaty and it was hard to get ahold of the slim piece of metal. The hallway disappeared as he stared into the small keyhole. He tried to think backward. He felt the groove, the small lip of metal. He pressed lightly as if touching delicate skin and then waited for it to catch,
shhhh
. He drove in the metal tip. It worked, like it always did for him, and now he could get out of there.
Jack unhooked the cuff from the banister. His arm fell to his side, the steel brushing against his jeans. He turned around and froze, unable to take another step. The dark figure of the Amazing Mussini appeared in the doorway of the professor’s office. Darkness engulfed the hallway. Cold air wrapped around Jack as if encasing him in wet sheets.
Jack collapsed to his knees, clutching his left wrist. Pain seared beneath his fingers as inky black marks sprung to the surface of his skin from somewhere deep inside him, forming into the same compass tattoo that the professor wore on his wrist—the mark of Mussini. Jack’s head jerked upward. Soot-colored clouds poured through the floorboards and rolled down the hallway. It was too late to run, too late to hide. Freezing hands reached out of the cloud cover, squeezing his forearms, while icicle fingers laced a rope around, binding them together. A scratchy blanket, thrown over his head, shrouded him in darkness. He was lifted clear off the floor. His sneakers dangled. His legs thrashed. Viselike arms wrapped around him,folding his body in on itself, pressing his knees up against his chest.
Jack’s heart caught in his throat—he
mi chico
! Hide the key!” Concheta made the sign of the cross, kissed the rosary that hung around her sweaty neck, and scuttled through the house to the back door.
“That’s not going to stop them,” the professor yelled after her. He turned to Jack. “Mussini and his minions are coming for you.”
“Minions?” Jack’s voice cracked. Jack yanked and pulled at the cuff. She had twisted the clasp so tightly that there was no give, no play between his wrist bone and the hard steel.
And then it hit him. Jack remembered the warning from the kids in the park: the occult, the grave robbers, and ghosts—
los muertos
.
The professor’s dark gaze locked on to him and he said, “She’s right. It is
los muertos
, my boy.”
Jack’s throat was dry. He could barely say the words. “The dead.”
“Go with them to their domain. This is your destiny now.” The professor let go of Jack’s arm and vanished down the hallway, leaving the Handcuff Kid alone in the stairwell.
“Come back!” Jack screamed, yanking on the handcuff locking him to the banister. “Don’t leave me here!” The house echoed with his voice. “Stupid jerk!” Hot tears welled up in his eyes. The front door slammed shut, and the house was suddenly quiet. “Stupid handcuff!” Jack coughed and punched the wall. Resting his forehead against the banister, he tried to calm himself down.
Jack thought about a show he saw on the nature channel about bear attacks. The worst thing a person could do was run, because bears are surprisingly fast runners, not lumbering Yogi Bear snatching a picnic basket. Curling up into a ball like a pathetic baby was a person’s only chance. Jack heard heavy footsteps coming from the professor’s office. A hundred tiny currents of fear rippled through his body, waiting for the swipe of the claws, for the bear to rip his guts out and milesof intestines to fall onto the floor.
Get a grip
, he thought. Whatever was coming for him, he still had a chance to get away. He had to try.
Jack snatched the shim from his shoe and went to work on the cuff attached to the banister, not the wrist one, so the cuffs would still be with him when they opened. He slipped the shim inside the lock, but his hands were sweaty and it was hard to get ahold of the slim piece of metal. The hallway disappeared as he stared into the small keyhole. He tried to think backward. He felt the groove, the small lip of metal. He pressed lightly as if touching delicate skin and then waited for it to catch,
shhhh
. He drove in the metal tip. It worked, like it always did for him, and now he could get out of there.
Jack unhooked the cuff from the banister. His arm fell to his side, the steel brushing against his jeans. He turned around and froze, unable to take another step. The dark figure of the Amazing Mussini appeared in the doorway of the professor’s office. Darkness engulfed the hallway. Cold air wrapped around Jack as if encasing him in wet sheets.
Jack collapsed to his knees, clutching his left wrist. Pain seared beneath his fingers as inky black marks sprung to the surface of his skin from somewhere deep inside him, forming into the same compass tattoo that the professor wore on his wrist—the mark of Mussini. Jack’s head jerked upward. Soot-colored clouds poured through the floorboards and rolled down the hallway. It was too late to run, too late to hide. Freezing hands reached out of the cloud cover, squeezing his forearms, while icicle fingers laced a rope around, binding them together. A scratchy blanket, thrown over his head, shrouded him in darkness. He was lifted clear off the floor. His sneakers dangled. His legs thrashed. Viselike arms wrapped around him,folding his body in on itself, pressing his knees up against his chest.
Jack’s heart caught in his throat—he
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