Free The Carnival of Lost Souls : A Handcuff Kid Novel by Laura Quimby

though thisguy was no angel. A snakelike whip snapped in the air. Jack curled up on the floor as the carriage hurried on, straight for whatever this wall was.
    Jack leaned against the back of the carriage and peered between the curtain folds. The bright white moon made the trees look wiry and foreign. Not long after they started moving again, the carriage slowed. Jack heard the gruff yell of Mussini and the snap of his whip, and then the strangest sound he ever heard erupted outside of the carriage—a deep guttural cry like a cross between a moan and a roar. He strained to see where the sound was coming from.
    The carriage wheels rumbled and shook, passing over a rough surface before settling. That’s when he saw an enormous stone wall covered in moss and vines. A beastlike figure with sharp twisted horns growing out of its head stood near the wall. The creature swung a towering metal gate shut behind them. It turned a metal key in a huge metal lock. A knot tightened in Jack’s stomach. The carriage rocked back and forth. He closed his eyes and huddled down in a corner.
Los muertos
. The professor had traded him away, and the dead had taken him, snatched like a baby.
    Jack must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew he woke up with his neck stiff and his jaw clenched shut. His face was burning up. He opened his eyes. Rough fibers brushed against his face and muggyair filled his lungs. He pulled at a ragged edge of cloth with his teeth, tasting bits of the burlap in his mouth. A sack was fastened over his head; his new warden wasn’t about to take any more chances. He almost laughed—almost, because his hands were once again tied together with rope. Not a laughing matter.
    Jack pictured Houdini inside the black sack, locked in the trunk for the metamorphosis trick, as he and an assistant switched places in three seconds. One second Houdini was trapped, and the next he was free. Jack wished he had someone to switch places with, so he could slip out of this bad dream. He shook his head violently. The muscles in his neck tensed and his breathing heaved in gasps, pulling the burlap into his mouth. The inside of the bag grew hotter and hotter.
Listen, listen, listen
! he yelled to himself, quieting his panic. He heard the swish of a tail and the neigh of a horse, air forcing through the soft snout.
    “Ya!” He heard the yell of the angry man, the snap of a whip, the crack of wood, and then a wheel turned. Jack listened to the horse’s hooves crunching through the leaves of the forest’s floor.
    “Ho, ho!” the voice called out. The horse neighed. The wheels groaned to a halt, followed by the heavy footsteps of someone landing on the ground. A fist pounded on wood. “Jabber! Water the horses!”
    Metal rings dragged across a metal rod—a curtaindrawn back. Someone jumped down from the back of the wagon, perhaps Jabber, because he was lighter on his feet than the heavy footsteps of the angry man. Jack thought of Little Miss B.—now look who was the blind dog. He lay still on the floor of the carriage, trying not to move. A hand reached under his chin and untied the burlap bag, pulling it from his head.
    Jack flinched. His eyes fluttered, adjusting to the punch of brightness. Leaning up on his elbows, he climbed out of the carriage and watched the world around him come into focus.
    He was in the middle of a forest, but not the forest near the professor’s house. Heaps of dead brown leaves covered the ground. An army of pale, tall trees surrounded him like ghostly sentries that went on for miles and miles. The tree limbs grew into a tangled net above him, obscuring the cloud-covered sky. Fog clung to the ground, and if Jack lay flat on his back, he might even disappear under the hazy carpet. The air of the place felt like ice-cold breath on his neck and made him shudder.
    A large wagon stood in the clearing. Huge black wheels with long spokes supported the enormous wooden wagon, which looked like something out