The Island

“I saw your video,” Harper says. “I just posted one too. Our followers have reached the same conclusion.”

I sit down on a plush chair in the lobby. We’re the only ones down here so far. Both of us are impatient for the rides.

“The haunted thing?” I ask.

“Yeah. Some comments on mine are even telling me to leave now.”

I laugh. “That’s slightly over the top. There’s nothing paranormal here.”

She shrugs one shoulder. “You never know.”

“Really? Do you believe in ghosts?”

She takes a second to think about it. “I’m undecided. I’ve never witnessed anything spooky, but that doesn’t mean it’s not out there. I do know that I will never mess with a Ouija board. What about you?”

A shiver runs the length of my spine. “I don’t believe in ghosts. There are enough monsters in human flesh. I think I would go crazy if I started to believe there are some I can’t see, too.”

“Does blogging about murder mess with your mind?”

“The active cases do more than ones that have been resolved. It’s still super sick what people do to each other, but it’s easier to detach when it’s something that happened years ago.” That sounds kind of wrong—death is death. But that’s how I feel.

And there is no way anyone can learn all the gruesome details about a murder and have it not bother them. Unless you’re the one committing those crimes, of course.

“I get that.” Harper nods. “And it wasn’t your brand, but I loved all your Britney stuff. Her family is…” She trails off, shaking her head.

“The Britney posts brought a lot of new followers, but my murder stuff is what keeps people watching. Everyone loves a good killer.” I roll my eyes. “Not that I’m judging. I’ve been fascinated since I was about thirteen.”

Harper raises an eyebrow. “What happened when you were thirteen?”

The one case I will never cover. The one that kept me awake, hidden under my blanket after my parents went to sleep, trawling articles online about the murder.

It was close to home and my parents didn’t want me to hear anything about it. But I live in a small town, and it was always going to get around.

“Um.” I clear my throat. This has never been an easy one to talk about and it’s why I’d never cover it. “Did you ever hear about Elliana Delaney?”

Harper shakes her head. “No. Who is she?”

“Elliana was my neighbor. I was eleven and she was eight, so we didn’t hang out. The Delaneys lived in a massive house two doors down from us, manicured gardens, pool out the back, you know the type. Her parents seemed perfect, and she seemed perfect. Then, her mom went missing one summer. Elliana and her dad went on TV begging for information about her.”

Harper’s mouth parts. “Let me guess, the dad did it?”

“Yeah, that’s the story about her mom. We don’t know for sure what happened, but five days later, Elliana was murdered. The cops think her mom was killed and she knew all along and couldn’t keep her mouth shut any longer. He slaughtered his own daughter to stop her from talking.”

“No way! How did they find out it was him?”

“His DNA was found under Elliana’s fingernails. He was charged and found guilty.”

“What about her mom’s murder?”

I shrug. “No body and no evidence that he did anything to her. He was never even charged with anything to do with her mom.”

“Tell me he got life.”

“He did. No chance of parole. Elliana was just a kid. I read the transcripts from court, and the judge came down hard on him. As she should have.”

Harper presses her hand to her heart. “God, that’s awful. And that’s when you started to vlog?”

“No. I started researching crimes, murder, kidnappings. Anything and everything. I had notebooks on cases. It wasn’t until about eighteen months ago that I started my podcast. Elliana and her mom were something else. I had to find out everything, but I knew them, you know?”

She nods.

“Ah, my two favorite influencers,” Malcolm says, floating into the lobby. It sounded like he was in physical pain when he called us influencers.

“We’re just waiting for the others,” Harper says.

“Very good. We still have time.” He checks his watch. “You’re welcome to go through to the dining room. Camilla is already there with drinks.”

I stand. “Thanks.”

Harper and I head into the hotel restaurant. We’re the only ones here, which feels a little weird. But the good thing is our food doesn’t take long. I opt for a cheeseburger and fries with ice cream for dessert; Harper gets a chicken Caesar wrap and a fruit cup. Everything is served on white china plates rimmed with silver. And our drinks are in heavy crystal goblets.

After lunch, we head out into the park. There’s a gate separating the hotel and courtyard from the amusement park. For insurance purposes, I suspect.

“This is awesome!” Harper nudges my arm, her dark eyes sparking in the sun as the others appear. “Where to first, Paisley?”

Reeve is waiting and smiles at us. “Who’s coming with me?”

Me. Absolutely.

Harper, Will, Liam, and I volunteer to go with Reeve. Gibson is the unlucky one stuck with Ava and James now that he’s back from the mainland.

“Haunted house!” I say. “I need that.” It’s always the first ride I go on when I’m at a park.

“All right,” Reeve replies.

“We’re all coming with you,” Gibson says, slapping Reeve on the back. “I’ll throw myself off the cliff if I have to spend the day with those two.”

The rest of us laugh while Ava and James make out under one of the live oak trees.

Reeve thumps Gibson’s arm. “I get you, man.”

“How scary is it?” I ask, as we walk along the dark asphalt, passing entrances to a roller coaster and drop tower.

“You’ll see,” Reeve says, winking. Since we’re the only guests in the park, we won’t have to wait in any lines. Each ride has an attendant at the ready, in case we decide we want to try it out.

Everything is made from wood and stone and has a similar Gothic carved design. All natural material, likely sourced from the island itself. There’s so much to see—intricately carved buildings and benches, signs that are hand-painted, beautiful gardens filled with burgundy tulips and covered walkways. I’m never leaving this park ever.

After four hours of riding and re-riding almost all the thrill rides, we all seem to drift apart to different areas of the park. Will is doing a video with the gargoyles by the entrance. Liam says he is going to catch up with Gibson, Ava, and James, who are heading toward the log flume.

I have so much footage. We’ve barely covered half the park since we’ve all stopped about a thousand times to take photos, selfies, and videos.

Reeve takes me and Harper under a shelter, and we board a dark train carriage. The seats are in twos, so Harper and I head for the first one.

“Enjoy,” Reeve says as the ride attendant, a young woman with glasses and long black hair, presses a couple buttons. I catch a glance at him grinning at me before we disappear past a black sheet.

Harper tugs the bar lower into our laps. The metal digs against my thighs.

“I don’t think we’re going to go upside down.” I’ve never been at a park without knowing a little something about the rides. This is all uncharted territory—we’re some of the first people ever to ride these rides.

“Can you guarantee that here, though?” she asks, arching a dark brow.

“Fair point, but we’d have a harness if that was the case.”

The train rolls noisily on the tracks and wobbles slightly as if it’s been used every day for a hundred years. Harper tightens her grip on the bar as we descend into darkness.

The car rocks again as we slowly make our way without even a slither of light. I blink but I can’t see a thing. My heart beats faster with every second of nothing.

The only other sound I can hear is Harper’s breathing.

We swing sharply around a corner, and I gasp. If we’d been going any faster, I might have bumped into Harper.

It smells like wood and rubber.

“Paisley,” Harper whispers. She sounds scared.

I squeeze her arm. How long have we been in here in the pitch black?

A low hiss like an aerosol can cuts through the tunnel and something tickles my face. It’s cold and unscented, but loud.

Harper and I both jump and shout out at the same time.

“What the hell was that?”

“Air,” I reply, ducking my head. “It’s okay.”

This is all very creepy and too subtle. The calm before the storm.

Above us something drops from the ceiling with an animalistic squeal. This time Harper and I do more than shout. We scream louder than the hideous gargoyle-looking thing as it’s illuminated by a soft blue glow that accentuates its wrinkled features and large eyes.

Harper and I laugh.

“My heart!” I say, sitting straight again.

We don’t have any time to recover before something else pops out from the wall. We get no break as another terrifying character launches itself toward us. I leap over to Harper’s side of the car, and she laughs her ass off.

Low lighting glows all around us, making it even harder to see than before, and some birds drop from the ceiling, hanging far too close to our heads for my liking.

Harper ducks. “Are those bats?”

I look up and strain my eyes. “Blackbirds, I think,” I reply.

The ride creaks loudly and “people” spring out from nowhere again.

We both laugh and huddle together in the middle of the car. Harper points one of them out, a creepy-looking hunched-over old man with no teeth. Air sprays from above him, making us both jump again.

I scream when something touches my shoulder. Spinning around, I see nothing but the shadows of birds cascading on the walls.

We then finally poke back out of another sheet, and we’re in the daylight again.

“Oh my god!” Harper says. “That was awesome.”

“Yeah,” I reply, looking over my shoulder. “Did something touch you in there?”

“What?”

The ride comes to a stop and Reeve looks up, laughing at what I assume were mine and Harper’s squeals.

“Back there, near the end. I thought something touched my shoulder.”

“It was probably just the air. I felt it on my face.”

The bar rises up and I step out of the car, Harper behind me. “Yeah, probably.”

Only it felt very much like a hand.