Wrong Side of Hell by Juliana Stone

atmosphere surrounded her. She wanted to lose herself in it and never come back.
    “Dove, get your ass back here.” His voice had elevated from pissed off to pure rage.
    She ignored him, accepted a huge pink balloon of cotton candy as she ran past a six-foot clown. It was reckless what she was doing, but it felt sweeter than the pink cloud of sugar in her hands.
    Kira darted among the crowd, her legs strong and sure as she slipped around the people, running past the rides, the games, and food booths. Ahead she saw the dog—the small golden thing from before—waving its tail rapidly, its little chest heaving as it barked crazily . . . at her.
    She ran toward the animal, wincing at the bellow that followed behind her. All of a sudden everything seemed much more in her face. The crowd was louder and a hint of menace touched all of them, electrifying the air and filling her chest with dread.
    The dog disappeared between something called The Zipper and a red-and-white–striped candy apple stand. Kira stayed hot on its heels, though she stopped abruptly when she rounded the side of the tall ride. Thick, rolling mist swirled in front of her—a wall of it—and everything around her was flooded with its heaviness. The sounds of the carnival faded as the wet air slid over her.
    A touch of fear turned in her gut. It was as if the carnival had never existed. She stumbled, blind as a bat, until finally the fog cleared and she found herself in the middle of the market.
    A cool breeze swept along the street, spreading bits of paper and refuse into the air. They danced like snowflakes, hitting her in the face and arms. The sun was hiding, the colors and scents of the Caribbean gone—not a soul stirred and Catherine’s booth was empty.
    The entire market was painted by the same dull gray brush that seemed to follow her everywhere.
    “If I never see this color again . . .” Kira muttered.
    She stepped forward and winced at the sad echo of her boots on the pavement. Her gaze darted here and there, searching for anyone who might be hiding in the shadows, but there was no one. A bark echoed from down the way and Kira peered into the gloom. Suddenly the wisdom of following the dog was definitely in doubt.
    “Shit,” she murmured, unsure and feeling very much alone. She heard a scuff behind her and froze.
    “You are the most annoying, frustrating, and ill-behaved human I’ve ever met.”
    It was Logan. She relaxed a bit and turned around. He stood a few inches from her, hands fisted at his sides and mouth set into a tight, grim line.
    “Human? You say that like it’s a disease or something. Should I be insulted?”
    A vein throbbed near his temple. “This isn’t a fucking game.”
    “Really? What is it? ‘Cause I have no idea. No one’s had the balls to let me in on that little secret.”
    His dark eyes studied her in silence and she shifted, uncomfortable beneath his intense glare. “I don’t have time for this.”
    “Newsflash, buddy. If I’m already dead, then seems to me I should have all the time in the world.”
    He snarled as he moved closer, and though Kira would have preferred to keep some space between them, she refused to budge. “That’s where you’re wrong, little girl.”
    “Don’t call me little girl.” She spat at him.
    “Then stop acting like one. Your situation is a lot more serious than it appears, and right now death is the least of your worries.”
    “I find that hard to believe.” But Kira saw the look in his eyes and her stomach twisted harder than it already was.
    Logan ignored her. “Time is your enemy.” He paused, ran his hands through his hair, and nailed her with a look that spoke volumes. “The clock is ticking and you’re almost out of it.”
     

 
     
    Chapter Ten
     
      T HE DOG SHE’D been following howled. It was a hairsplitting cry that cut between the two of them and ended on an abrupt note that was jarring. Silence followed, the kind that weighed heavily. Fear,