✨ EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT ✨
“Mama? What’s a true bay door?”
I stood in front of a carnival booth holding my mother’s hand, staring up at the sign—The Troubadour’s Talking Board.
“Like a singer or a storyteller, I think.”
“Mama, what’s a talking board?”
Mom kept looking around for Dad. He’d said he was going to get me some cotton candy, but he’d been gone for a while. She had a tight hold on my hand and a crinkle on her forehead.
“I don’t know,” she said, looking puzzled. “Maybe like a Ouija board?”
A man stood across from the booth, leaning against a fence post, smoking a cigarette. He had the prettiest sea-foam green eyes I’d ever seen, and his dark blond hair was long, past his shoulders, kinda like Dad’s brother, Uncle Butch, had when they were teenagers. Dad and his other brother, Uncle Herman, had complained about it constantly, as they were both Marines and hated to see a Muse man not meeting the grooming standard.
The green-eyed man strolled closer to us, flicking his cigarette on the ground. I couldn’t stop staring at him and the big scar he had on his cheekbone. He must have noticed, because he put a hand over it.
“Some folks call it that, but this one is special. You’re welcome to come on over and ask a question. Whatever you want to ask. Your answer will be in the form of the prettiest poem I can possibly compose for you.”
I looked up at Mom with my best puppy dog eyes. “Can we please? I want a poem of my very own.”
Mom glanced around, looking for Dad once more. She had a hard time resisting me.
The beautiful man stepped inside the booth and perched up on a stool.
“Just for a minute,” she said, smiling down at me. Mom had been extra patient and generous with me lately. I thought it was because I was double digits now, but maybe it was because Dad was struggling to hang on to himself these days.
The pretty man cracked his knuckles and gestured to the table before him that held a board with letters and numbers on it. He had a small piece of wood on top that had a hole at the point. Next to that was an old-timey typewriter, and a tin cup full of colored pencils.
“This is my talking board. Have you seen one before?”
I shook my head. “What does it do?”
He smiled at me like he was telling me a secret, and he leaned a little closer. It was the first time I ever felt funny in my tummy talking to someone. “It’s like a gateway to all of the answers in the universe. It gives me the words I need to write your poem. Now, you can ask me a question and we’ll see what message comes through the aether.”
That gave me a little worry, like the other night when I came out of my bedroom and Dad was watching a scary movie about a little girl who got sucked into a TV. I didn’t sleep the whole rest of the weekend after that. I looked up at Mom. I didn’t want her to know I was scared because then she wouldn’t let me take my turn.
“Mom, how ’bout you go first.”
Mom smiled and sighed. “Okay. How about…how old is this carnival? It sure seems…dated.” Her gaze traveled to the end of the arcade, where a cart full of balloons was being pushed by a man in a clown costume that wasn’t much more than tatters.
“Now that’s a clever question. Let me consult the talking board.”
The pretty man placed his fingertips on the piece of wood and he focused his gaze on the clear glass hole. His eyes went kinda spacy for a moment and then he sat back and smiled at me. He turned to the typewriter and his fingers tapped the keys pretty quick for a man. I’d only seen Mom type that fast before. He pulled a small white card out of the roller, picked up a purple pencil, scribbled on the paper, and then handed it to Mom.
She read it and smiled, then she handed it to me.
Older than time
Sooner than now
Longer than life
Farther than near
Where it’s needed
When it’s required
Always on schedule
Perpetually on time.
“Well,” Mom said to the man with a nervous laugh. “I guess that’s an answer.”
“What does it mean, though?” I asked them both. It reminded me of a poem my teacher made me read in front of the class once. I hadn’t known what that meant, either, and when I told her that, the whole class laughed at me.
“What do you think it means?” the man asked.
I thought hard for a moment, my belly flipping around. Please don’t let him laugh at me. “Maybe it’s whatever it needs to be?”
“I like the sound of that,” he said, and he smiled that sneaky smile again. “Now, what would you like to ask?”
I had so many questions for him. He seemed sad, but he was so pretty, and it seemed to me that Dad had once said “pretty people don’t have problems.” He did seem out of place here amongst all the corny acts and games, so that’s what I asked. “What kind of a place is this carnival?” I’d been ambivalent about coming when Mom told me where we were going, but ever since we’d stepped through the gateway that said “Welcome, Traveler,” my curiosity was close to overflowing. I had so many questions, but I was sort of stupefied by the pretty man, so that was the best I could come up with.
He lost his smile a bit and cleared his throat. “Okay. Coming right up.” He laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles, sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut before putting his hands back on the wood piece.
He jolted on the stool and stumbled back, falling on his bottom.
“Oh! Are you all right?” Mom leaned over his booth, her eyes wide.
He held up a hand and chuckled. “Not to worry. Just a little light-headed.” He tried to play it off, but he looked spooked, sorta like I probably had after I’d watched that little girl get sucked into the TV.
Mom pulled me closer to her. “Honey, maybe we should leave mister…?”
“Dee Dee. Just Dee Dee. And I’ll have your poem ready for you in a jiffy.”
He stood and brushed off his pants before he placed his fingers on the typewriter keys. He pulled his hands back, wiggled his fingers, and cracked his knuckles again.
When he finished, he spent a little longer with the pencils before he handed me the card.
Here, there, any old where
Exists a carnival without a care
Behold, beware, a wild grizzly bear
A place where creatures frolic and dare
Welcome children, come and share
A magic, a wonder, a splendid affair
Your luck, your skill, or a wild sort of hair
Make your own way at this mystical fair
And when you leave for places elsewhere
So does the wondrous carnival, without a care
“Your very own carnival poem. I hope you’ll treasure it always.”
I clutched it to my chest and nodded. I’d never had anything so special in my life, but I also didn’t want to act like a goober. I handed it to Mom.
“Take care of this for me, please?”
“What are you two up to?” Dad put his hand on my shoulder, and then he looked at Dee Dee the Troubadour—and he turned white as a sheet. “You.”
Dee Dee smiled at him, glanced at me, and then looked back at Dad. “I’m the Troubadour. Care to ask a question, sir?”
Dad gripped my shoulder tight and pulled me back from the booth. “You! You’re…you’re him. I saw you. You…”
“Walter! Come on, let’s go.” Mom dragged me away with one hand and pushed Dad’s chest with the other.
I looked back at Dee Dee. He was watching us leave with a confused look on his face.
You Can Save Me
by R.L. Merrill
Release Date: Wednesday, August 21 2024
Publisher: Celie Bay Publications
Primary Plot Arc: Romance
Main Genres: Mystery-Thriller, Paranormal, Romance
Tropes: hurt-comfort, age gap, redemption, found family, mystery, thriller, gay romance, urban fantasy, gay, bisexual, mm romance, paranormal romance, mystery, supernatural suspense, time-travel
Pairings: MM
LGBTQ+ Identities: gay, bisexual
Keywords/Categories: paranormal romance, mystery, supernatural suspense, time-travel
Length: Novel / 60K+ Words
This book is part of the Carnival of Mysteries shared universe series. It is a follow up to R.L. Merrill’s other contribution to this series, You Can Do Magic. It is not necessary to read that book first, but it doesn’t hurt.
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A detective’s cold case returns after forty years…and hasn’t aged a day.
Blurb
Sixties folk singer Dane Donovan vanished from a desolate highway rest area in 1979. Forty years later, he’s found hitchhiking in the California desert on a cold winter’s night. He hasn’t aged a day, but the roadmap of scars he wears tells a chilling tale.
Veteran detective Walter Muse took over the case twenty years ago, but his haunting connection to Dane Donovan goes back to a peculiar run-in as a child with The Troubadour and his Talking Board at a traveling carnival. He receives a late-night call with Dane’s whereabouts and races to Laurel Canyon to see for himself whether Dane is real — or a ghost. Walter’s carefully honed detective instincts are thrown out the window when his obsession with the case turns into an undeniable attraction to the mysterious singer.
Dane is on a mission to stop a new killer hell-bent on picking up where Dane’s kidnapper left off, and Walter is determined to protect him, no matter the personal and psychological cost. They’ll have to rely on new friends and trusted colleagues as well as the power of a mystical spirit board to stop the killing, and have a chance at a real future together.
Warnings: discussion of suicide, serial killer attempted murder
Tour Excerpt
On a dark desert highway somewhere in California, I walked alone on the dusty shoulder with a borrowed acoustic guitar strapped to my back and my sole possession tucked under my arm in a brown paper bag. I shivered as though evil was breathing down my neck, when in reality, I was the one in pursuit. The sky had a purplish hue with some storm clouds off to the north but directly above me, the stars flickered in a surreal dance.
I walked with purpose, and it was a very important one.
I’m the only one who can stop him.
I passed a sign that said Highway 58 to Mojave, and I pulled my salvaged coat tighter around my scrawny self. The ground was warm beneath my tattered boots, but the air bit into my skin like an icy monster gnashing its teeth, hungry.
I turned to look behind me and spotted headlights coming my way. It had been at least an hour since another car had passed. I stuck out my thumb, hoping they’d stop. The boots I wore were also borrowed, as were my clothes and hat. I chose them because they were the only ones in the carnival storage that were the right size and fit.
I had only one memory from before I’d started working with the traveling carnival, and it was awful enough to make your blood run cold.
The lights hurt my eyes, and my energy flagged, but I kept my thumb out. I had something important to do, and if this car didn’t slow down, I’d keep going until the next one came. Someone had to stop. How else did people get anywhere if not for thumb power?
The headlights grew nearer and were impossibly bright. I had to cover my eyes briefly as I was nearly blinded. I heard the crunch of gravel as the vehicle pulled over and coughed at the cloud of dust that rose. A door opened and a male voice called out.
“Hey, man. What are you doing out here?”
The bright lights faded and only a set of yellow ones down low on the front of the…pickup truck were left on. It was a massive thing, jacked up high, with big tires and a shiny chrome grill.
What does it look like I’m doing? The large concrete sign with the strange name loomed in my consciousness, and though every cell in my body struggled against my purpose, I stood tall and called back, “Need a ride. To Buttonwillow.”
The truck door closed, and I saw the man’s shape pass in front of the dim lights. What was he doing getting out of his ride? I backed up a step, trying to play it cool. He wasn’t the person I was worried about.
Then the passenger door opened, and a much larger man got out.
“Ryan, don’t.”
There were two of them. I didn’t like my odds, but I had no choice. I had to get there. I had to stop…
“Forget it man, I’ll walk.”
“Wait, come back. You can’t walk that far. That’s, like, almost a hundred miles away.”
The driver came closer, but the big man stepped in between us. I reached for the guitar on my back. Maybe I could whack him with it and run away. I was pretty fast.
“Do you have any weapons?” Then the passenger barked an order at me. “Let me see under your jacket.”
“Come on, man. I just need a ride. I don’t have anything.”
The driver pushed past him. “Kal, it’s okay. Hey, kid, what’s your name?”
“Dee Dee.”
The driver held his hand out, and I shook it. “Dee Dee, I’m Ryan, and this is my husband, Kal. Damn,” he said, letting go of my hand and slapping his together, the loud crack making me jump. “I love saying that.” He turned and smiled at the large man, whose scowl seemed to lessen the slightest bit. “We just got married in Vegas.” He held up a hand and the light flashed off of his wedding band.
“Congratulations?” It came out like the question it was. How were they married? Two men? Guess they really do let anything happen in Las Vegas.
“Where’d you come from?” Kal asked, standing next to Ryan as if to protect him from me. Not sure I’d ever been seen as a threat to anyone, but I didn’t blame him for being cautious. Wish I’d had someone to look after me like that.
“Back that way. Was working at a carnival, and I needed to—”
Ryan put a hand on my chest and his eyes went wide. “Did you say carnival? Like, ‘Welcome, Traveler’ carnival?”
“How’d you know?” I tried to step back and my heel caught on a rock. I was about to go down, but Kal caught me—and then I was caught up in his gaze.
“I came from there, too,” Kal said.
And then I heard it. In my mind. Calliope music.
I’d never gone to see it. I hadn’t done much exploring. I’d only gone from my trailer to my booth and back for however long I’d been employed there. Didn’t seem long, but then, time did weird things at the carnival.
“The Troubadour’s Talking Board,” Kal said. He gripped my arm a little tighter as he brought me back up to standing. “The booth in the arcade. I know you.”
“That’s right. That’s me. Well, it was. I left. Got something I gotta do.”
Ryan grabbed Kal’s arm. “The promise. Babe, we have to help him.”
Kal continued to stare down at me, and though he seemed good—the big man oozed honor from his pores—he was a scary guy. His hand could have wrapped around my bicep twice. Or my throat. He looked from Ryan to me, and then he let go of my arm.
“We shall help you along your path.”
Seemed like a strange way of saying “sure, we’ll give you a ride,” but I’d take it.
“Thank you.”
Ryan gestured to the truck. “Hop in.”
Kal remained at my side and when we reached the cab, he opened the front of two doors. I’d never seen a pickup with two sets of doors before. This thing was unreal.
“You ride up here,” Kal said, taking the guitar from me. “I’ll be right behind you. If you hurt my husband, I will hurt you.”
“God, Kal. That’s hot, but babe, don’t scare the kid. We promised we’d help him.”
“Promised who?” I asked as I climbed into the tall pickup. “And I’m not a kid.”
Kal shut my door after I sat, and then he climbed in. I turned my back to the door. I didn’t like having him behind me. Didn’t like anyone at my back, especially after what had happened to land me at the carnival in the first place.
“I think you know,” Kal said as Ryan started the pickup. “Ryan and I are married because someone else made a promise to help us on our path. Ryan made a promise to Mr. Ame. Now we will do the same for you.”
I’d known cats who lived together, maybe even called themselves husbands, but marriage couldn’t happen between homosexuals. This was all too much. It was like I’d left one odd place and wound up in another.
But what he said about promises put my purpose front and center in my mind.
I sighed and turned just a bit, still able to see Kal out of the corner of my eye as he sat in the middle of the backseat. He rested a hand on the seat behind Ryan’s shoulder, his fingers tangling in the man’s shoulder-length copper hair.
“Thank you for stopping,” I said before I let my eyes drift closed. I needed to rest. I would need my strength when we arrived.
“What’s in Buttonwillow?” I heard Kal ask Ryan.
“All I know about it is there’s a pair of rest stops on either side of the highway. Creepy-ass place. Every time I stop there, I’m sure a murderer is going to jump out of the bushes.”
You don’t know how right you are.
About the Author
Whether she’s writing contemporary romance featuring quirky and relatable characters or diving deep into the paranormal and supernatural to give readers a shiver, R.L. Merrill loves creating compelling, diverse, and inclusive stories that will stay with readers long after. Winner of the Kathryn Hayes “When Sparks Fly” Best Contemporary award for Hurricane Reese, Paranormal Romance Guild’s Best Rockstar Romance for You Can Do Magic, and Daphne DuMaurier finalist for Connection, Ro spends every spare moment improving her writing craft and striving to find that perfect balance between real-life and happily ever after.
You can find her connecting with readers on social media, advocating for America’s youth, cruising around town with Great Dane Velma, cuddling with twin black cat familiars Frankenstein and Dracula, or headbanging at a rock show near her home in the San Francisco Bay Area! Stay Tuned for more…
Author Links
Giveaway
R.L. is giving away a $25 Amazon gift card with this tour!
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