The Pact Carnival Row Novels & Stories

Randall assured Rowena as he sat her down in a chair. "No way. I don't want to do that here!" "Rowena, don't forget your word. You promised to have sex with me whenever I wanted. Otherwise, I won't let you go after this month!" Randall was right. Rowena had agreed to fulfill all of Randall's desires when she had made her pact with him. She had hoped that he would soon get bored with her. To her astonishment, Randall was much wilder than she ever imagined. She thought she knew him well. She thought he was a rigid and reserved man; a man who was not raunchy.

Cyrus must be keeping him in a weak state so the poison works faster, just like my situation. Rowan looks at me, his eyes narrowed. “Deal.” He signs the papers and breaks the pact that binds us by announcing it loudly. I stare at his sign on the papers and hold back the smile on my face. Finally, both Rena and I are free from his clutch. I grab a piece of paper and write down the exact location of the witch. I place the paper on his bedside table and turn to him. “The rest is on you. Get well soon.” I turn around and stride towards the door.

And we haven’t even hit the main strip yet. The crowd’s thick, chaotic. Music’s blaring from every direction—Eurotrash remixes, kids screaming, teenagers dry-humping on the tilt-a-whirl. And Dante’s beside me, sniffing the air, which he might just be trying to find which part of this place he wants to murder first. I clutch my phone tighter, my thumb swiping over the screen one more time. ‘I need you to plant actors at the carnival. People Dante will believe. Old neighbors, fake friends, I don’t care. Anyone who can say they knew us as a couple. I need him convinced. Please.’

So he needs more blood than usual. They need to capture him anyhow. ******************************************************************************************************* 7:30 pm Rowan and his team are now in front of the 'Riders Luck' club. They enter the club and keep looking around. The club is full of men and beautiful women. Some girls are dancing in front of other men. Some are laughing loudly and having some dirty chat among themselves. Their laugh is hiding the sounds of saxophone and violin which are being played in the background by a group of musicians.

Everyone was bound for Coverciano Gap, in every conceivable kind of conveyance, from unwieldy coaches to farm carts, and a great number, those who could not beg or buy a place in a wagon, on foot. Progress was necessarily slow, but at least the scene of the fight was reached, a stubble field, not far from Crown Point. It seemed already thick with people. In the middle, men were busily engaged in erecting a twenty five foot stage. Patrick was directed to a quarter of the ground where the carriages of the gentry were to be ranged, and took up a position there, as close to the ring as he might. He had some time to wait before the fight was due to begin, but he was in a mood to be pleased, and f

Inside the Saltyville lies the famous Saltyroth-Dolly brothel complex. "Yeah," he answered, “there will be a rally tomorrow from the villager refuse the eviction.” “And you should among them, for sure,” I guessed. Mr. P only raised his left hand to the air with his intimidating glare. Then, he read the leaflet. Matt took a peek beside Mr. P. He nodded as if he understands the circumstances. “Yeah, right?” said Mr. P sarcastically while reading the article. I shook my head and raised my shoulder. “The fig tree,” Matt suddenly opened his mouth, then blew a circle of smoke from his thick lips.

The parish carnival turned the church grounds into something almost unrecognisable. Strings of lights hung between the old yew trees. Folding tables groaned under trays of baked goods and paper plates of barbecue. Children ran between the game stalls with painted faces and sticky fingers. Music from a portable speaker mixed with laughter and the occasional shout from the ring-toss. The whole place smelled of sugar, grilled meat, and cut grass. Father Elias moved through it in full clerical black, collar bright under the late-afternoon sun, smiling at parishioners, accepting thanks, blessing the occasional toddler when asked. He looked exactly as he was supposed to look: steady, kind, untouch

I smiled at Mary, the beautiful and happily mated vampire receptionist, my eyes communicating with hers to see how deeply fucked I was. The subtle shake of her head told me all there was to know. And that was that Mary had no idea what was about to go down. Shit. My mother had always warned me about my mouth getting me in trouble. And now here I was. Sir Max knocked solemnly on the door marked Richard Drebeille~HOA and my palms became clammy. What if I had pushed my luck too far this time? There was a subtle 'come in' from the other side of the door and I caught Sir Max's smirk and the flash of his fangs as he opened the door for me.

I asked eagerly. “The village?” she suggested. “Alec mentioned that you might like to go.” I froze. “You’re sure? You’re not afraid that I’ll bolt or something?” She flashed me a conspiratorial smile. “Nope, you’ll be too busy enjoying the carnival.” “The carnival?” I gasped. I remembered Mary and Bryan talking about how Alec was going to kick the rogues out before they could set up. “Didn’t Alec banish them?” “Of course he did,” she smirked. “But it’s not like the Rogue King would ever listen to Alec. He runs the carnival, and he goes where he likes. Saying no to him is akin to a polite suggestion. Plus, he had some help.”

"Now, that hurts." Her charm faded a bit. "We already talked about this—" "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He unhooked the rope. Groans from everyone in line went off behind us, but we were too tipsy to care. But before we stepped through the front entrance, Rojelio stopped us. "Woah, whoa." He nodded in Paul's direction. "He's gotta pay." "C'mon, are you serious?" Patty whined. "Ladies free before eleven, Patty."