Page 13 of Enter if you Dare: Part One

He smiles at the dirt before looking up at me. “Who said I was running?”

I smirk back at him. “You said some are running, so I took a stab in the dark.”

“I came to build a cemetery—the running was an optional extra.”

My laughter surprises me, and I cannot remember how long it’s been since I genuinely let go like this.

It’s almost completely dark by the time Noa declares the hole deep enough and climbs out, brushing the dirt from his pants.

“Not a bad first attempt,” he says, surveying the side I was digging while holding out his hand. I hand him the shovel first, which he takes and sets aside, then helps me out of the grave. “Come on, I’ll walk you back before they do the security checks.”

We fall into step together as we wander through the cemetery. Up close, the headstones are detailed, with names, dates, and little epitaphs. It looks like someone has put real thought into them. I stop and read one.

Here lies the courage it took to leave.

“Did you write these?”

“Some of them, but that one is Kayla’s. Cave even made one.” I glance up at the mention of his name. “He came out here early one morning about a year ago with a chisel. It says, ‘Here lies the last person who tried.’”

He points to the headstone, and I stare at it for a moment. “What does it mean?” I finally ask.

“No idea. I have learned not to ask Cave to explain himself. If he even tries, it will be a riddle, and sometimes that’s worse than not knowing.”

I think about what Vero said earlier—that Cave has never helped anyone before without a reason. Yet someone returned my bag, and he also stopped me from being murdered. “Does he often do things and not tell people why?”

“Cave only does things for a reason. Whether he explains it is another thing.”

The path through the grounds is lit up with fairy lights, and I can hear faint music ahead. A few staff members pass us as we walk, waving at Noa and eyeing me skeptically. Noa waves back and greets them all by name.

“What happens when you leave?” I ask curiously.

He looks at me sideways. “What do you mean?”

“The gravitational pull.”

He thinks about the question for a moment before answering. “I went to see my mom eight months ago. I stayed for three days before I was in the hearse and coming back. She cried, which was not ideal, but this is my home and I like it here. She admitted that at least I was happy.”

“Are you?”

“Deliriously,” he says with a smile. “I talk to headstones for a living, dig holes, and scare people. I have never once woken up and not wanted to be here. What about you?”

“I’m happy to be here tonight,” I answer, avoiding the real question.

He smiles and doesn’t push. When we reach the gates, he stops and turns to face me. “Come back, Valli. There is always a spare shovel.”

Looking out at the bridge, at the lights on the mainland, I think about the life I’m about to return to. I have a boss with an attitude problem and a house that is falling apart. Then I glance back over my shoulder at Noa, who has dirt on his cheeks and his shovel in his hand. “Okay.”

He grins. “Good, the headstones look forward to meeting you.”

I laugh as I walk back to my car. What a weird yet interesting man.

Cipher

The carousel’s motor is not that complicated, or at least it shouldn’t be. The issue is that Clay and Ares got to it first. So by the time it came to me, the belt had been prodded at by multiple people who had no idea what they were doing, and now one of the bolts is stripped.

I have the housing off and the motor is laid out on my workbench. All the components are separated in the order I pulled them off, which is the only way I can do this without losing my mind.

The actual fault is straightforward—the motor coupling has worn unevenly. It explains the sound Nixie described. I already have a replacement; it came with the carousel, and I stored it for when it was needed.