Circus of the Damned

46

I stood just inside the door of the Circus, staring at the wave of costumes and glittering humanity. I'd never seen the place so crowded. Edward stood beside me in a long black cloak with a death's-head mask. Death dressed up as death; fu

A woman in a bird costume passed us in a scent of feathers and perfume. I had to look twice to make sure that it was just a costume. Tonight was the night when all shapeshifters could be out and people would just say, "Neat costume."

It was Halloween night at the Circus of the Damned. Anything was possible.

A slender black woman stepped up to us wearing nothing but a bikini and an elaborate mask. She had to step close to me to be heard over the murmur of the crowd. "Jean-Claude sent me to bring you."

"Who are you?"

"Rashida."

I shook my head. "Rashida had her arm torn off two days ago." I stared at the perfect flesh of her arm. "You can't be her."

She raised her mask so I could see her face, then smiled. "We heal fast."

I had known lycanthropes healed fast, but not that fast, not that much damage. Live and learn.

We followed her swaying hips into the crowd. I grabbed hold of Larry's hand with my left hand. "Stay right with me tonight."

He nodded. I threaded through the crowd holding his hand like a child or a lover. I couldn't stand the thought of him getting hurt. No, that wasn't true. I couldn't stand the thought of him getting killed. Death was the big boogeyman tonight.

Edward followed at our heels. Silent as his namesake, trusting that he'd get to kill something soon.

Rashida led us towards the big, striped circus tent. Back to Jean-Claude's office, I supposed. A man in a straw hat and striped coat said, "Sorry, the show's sold out."

"It's me, Perry. These are the ones the Master's been waiting for." She hiked her thumb in our direction.

The man drew aside the tent flap and motioned us through. There was a line of sweat on his upper lip. It was warm, but I had the feeling it wasn't that kind of sweat. What was happening inside the tent? It couldn't be too bad if they were letting the crowd in to watch. Could it?

The lights were bright and hot. I started to sweat under the sweatshirt, but if I took it off, people would stare at my gun. I hated that.

Circular curtains had been rigged to the ceiling, creating two curtained-off areas in the large circus ring. Spotlights surrounded the two hidden areas. The curtains were like prisms. With every step we took, the colors changed and flowed over the cloth. I wasn't sure if it was the cloth or some trick of the lights. Whatever, it was a nifty effect.

Rashida stopped just short of the rail that kept the crowd back. "Jean-Claude wanted everybody to be in costume, but we're out of time." She pulled at my sweater. "Lose the jacket and it'll have to do."

I pulled my sweater out of her hand. "What are you talking about, costumes?"

"You're holding up the show. Drop the jacket and come on." She did a long, lazy leap over the railing and strode barefoot and beautiful across the white floor. She looked back at us, motioning for us to follow.

I stayed where I was. I wasn't going anywhere until somebody explained things. Larry and Edward waited with me. The audience near us was staring intently, waiting for us to do something interesting.

We stood there.

Rashida disappeared into one of the curtained circles. "Anita."

I turned, but Larry was staring at the ring. "Did you say something?"

He shook his head.

"Anita?"

I glanced at Edward, but it hadn't been his voice. I whispered, "Jean-Claude?"

"Yes, ma petite , it is I."

"Where are you?"

"Behind the curtain where Rashida went."

I shook my head. His voice had resonance, a slight echo, but otherwise it was as normal as his voice ever got. I could probably talk to him without moving my lips, but if so, I didn't want to know. I whispered, "What's going on?"

"Mr. Oliver and I have a gentleman's agreement."

"I don't understand."

"Who are you talking to?" Edward asked.

I shook my head. "I'll explain later."

"Come into my circle, Anita, and I will explain everything to you at the same time I explain it to our audience."

"What have you done?"

"I have done the best I could to spare lives, ma petite , but some will die tonight. But it will be in the circle with only the soldiers called to task. No i

"You're going to fight it out in the ring like a show?"

"It was the best I could do on such short notice. If you had warned me days ago, perhaps something else could have been arranged."

I ignored that. Besides, I was feeling guilty.

I took off the sweatshirt and laid it across the railing. There were gasps from the people near enough to see my gun.

"The fight's going to take place out in the ring."

"In front of the audience?" Edward said.

"Yep."

"I don't get it," Larry said.

"I want you to stay here, Larry."

"No way."

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Larry, you don't have any weapons. You don't know how to use a gun. You're just ca

He shook his head.

I touched his arm. "Please, Larry."

Maybe it was the please, or the look in my eyes—whatever, he nodded. I could breathe a little easier. Whatever happened tonight, Larry wouldn't die because I'd brought him into it. It wouldn't be my fault.

I climbed over the railing and dropped to the ring. Edward followed me with a swish of black cape. I glanced back once. Larry stood gripping the rail. There was something forlorn about him standing there alone, but he was safe; that was what counted.

I touched the shimmering curtain, and it was the lights. The cloth was white up close. I lifted it to one side, and entered, Edward at my back.

There was a multilayered dais complete with throne in the center of the circle. Rashida stood with Stephen near the foot of the dais. I recognized Richard's hair and his naked chest before he lifted the mask off his face. It was a white mask with a blue star on one cheek. He was wearing glittering blue harem pants with a matching vest and shoes. Everyone was in costume but me.

"I was hoping you wouldn't make it in time," Richard said.

"What, and miss the Halloween blowout of all time?"

"Who's that with you?" Stephen asked.

"Death," I said.

Edward bowed.

"Trust you to bring death to the ball, ma petite ."

I looked up the dais, to the very top. Jean-Claude stood in front of the throne. He was finally wearing what his shirts hinted at, but this was the real thing. The real French courtier. I didn't know what to call half of the costume. The coat was black with tasteful silver here and there. A short half-cloak was worn over one shoulder only. The pants were billowy and tucked into calf-high boots. Lace edged the foldover tops of the boots. A wide white collar lay at his throat. Lace spilled out of the coat sleeves. It was topped off by a wide, almost floppy hat with a curving arch of black and white feathers.

The costumed throng moved to either side, clearing the stairs up to the throne for me. I somehow didn't want to go. There were sounds outside the curtains. Heavy things being moved around. More scenery and props being moved up.

I glanced at Edward. He was staring at the crowd, eyes taking in everything. Hunting for victims, or for familiar faces?

Everyone was in costume, but very few people were actually wearing masks. Yasmeen and Marguerite stood about halfway up the stairs. Yasmeen was in a scarlet sari, all veils and sequins. Her dark face looked very natural in the red silk. Marguerite was in a long dress with puffed sleeves and a wide lace collar. The dress was of some dark blue cloth. It was simple, unadorned. Her blond hair was in complicated curls with one large mass over each ear and a small bun atop her head. Hers, like Jean-Claude's, looked less like a costume and more like antique clothing.

I walked up the stairs towards them. Yasmeen dropped her veils enough to expose the cross-shaped scar I'd given her. "Someone will pay you back for this tonight."

"Not you personally?" I asked.

"Not yet."

"You don't care who wins, do you?"

She smiled. "I am loyal to Jean-Claude, of course."

"Like hell."

"As loyal as you were, ma petite ." She drew out each syllable, biting each sound off.

I left her to laugh at my back. I guess I wasn't the one to complain about loyalties.

There were a pair of wolves sitting at Jean-Claude's feet. They stared at me with strange pale eyes. There was nothing human in the gaze. Real wolves. Where had he gotten real wolves?

I stood two steps down from him and his pet wolves. His face was unreadable, empty and perfect.

"You look like something out of The Three Musketeers ," I said.

"Accurate, ma petite ."

"Is it your original century?"

He smiled a smile that could have meant anything, or nothing.

"What's going to happen tonight, Jean-Claude?"

"Come, stand beside me, where my human servant belongs." He extended a pale hand.

I ignored the hand and stepped up. He'd talked inside my head. It was getting silly to argue. Arguing didn't make it not true.

One of the wolves growled low in its chest. I hesitated.

"They will not harm you. They are my creatures."

Like me, I thought.

Jean-Claude put his hand down towards the wolf. It cringed and licked his hand. I stepped carefully around the wolf. But it ignored me, all its attention on Jean-Claude. It was sorry it had growled at me. It would do anything to make up for it. It groveled like a dog.

I stood at his right side, a little behind the wolf.