[IC] Cirque du Sombre [Siaya Dragalorn & Summer]

[Rogue Sloth]

The back yard was bustling with activity as the circus performers prepared for their last show in Los Angeles that night. Clowns, bally girls, and freak shows of every shape and size milled about the dressing area as they put their costumes together, moving with the purpose and haste of worker bees in a hive. Most of them didn’t speak much, but it was always this way. The energy of the guests in the front yard was buzzing, but the troupers themselves operated with steely focus. All they cared about was one thing: The after party.
It was the reason they were here, and it was the reason why they performed. After all, every face in the crowd belonged to a supernatural creature just waiting to feed on their human audience tonight.
Werewolves and banshees and gremlins and more all gathered together to hunt and catch their prey with an efficiency the monster world had never seen before. During each show they put on, a troupe of faeries would traverse the house, leaving black, satin cards underneath the seats of selected guests in the grandstands. Each card was an invitation to the circus’s highly exclusive after party.
At the end of the night, the ringmistress, an exquisite German beauty who commanded a room with her six-and-a-half-foot stature, would tell the house to look beneath their bleachers, and the crowd would be left mystified as to how and when the Chosen Ones were picked.
No matter what the answer was, almost everyone who attended the shows put on by Cirque du Sombre secretly wanted to be selected. The after party was a mystery. Everyone who attended it claimed they couldn’t remember anything that happened. Some believed they were lying to keep the circus’s secret, while others grew ever more curious to attend and find out for themselves.
The growing reputation boded well for the troupers. With the prey practically throwing themselves into their waiting fangs, it had become easier than ever before for the monsters to have their fill of blood, spirit, or whatever their preferences may be. Thus, they were eager to get through the task of the performance and move on to the moment they had all been waiting for.
Their focused silence was only interrupted by sound of two voices.
“That hair of yours makes you look like a woman, you know.” A small, skinny man perched on the edge of a hay bale with his stick-like legs dangling over the edge and his toothpick arms crossed over his chest. He was more than small, in fact, he was completely miniscule. If he had been standing upright on the ground, he would have been no taller than three feet. He liked to claim he was tall for his type though. Most brownies topped off at two-foot-ten.
“Are you ever going to cut it?” the tiny man went on with the gravelly tone of a Scottish chain smoker. “It would be nice to walk up behind you for once without expecting a pretty face.”
“I don’t know what difference it would make,” a second voice replied, younger and richer than the former. “You don’t have a better shot with any woman than you do with me, and you know it, Oscar.” The teenage-looking boy turned away from the platform he was stretching his leg against to cast the brownie a mocking smile. To Oscar’s point, he had a full head of brown hair that fell to his shoulders in tangled waves, and a lean frame to match, though his was much larger compared to the short man.
With just a pair of black pants to adorn his body, he showed off quite a bit of tan skin and a toned torso decorated with a large, black tattoo. However, his most striking features were the blood red irises that ringed his pupils and the long fangs in his mouth. Both were traits he had inherited from his vampire mother.
“Tch,” Oscar clicked his tongue. “You can’t say that. I just haven’t met the right one yet.”
“That’s because all the girls you chase after are two feet taller than you,” Rayth rolled his eyes, alternating his stance to stretch his other leg. It was good form to get all the kinks out before a show. “Everyone who comes to the circus is here to gawk at freaks, not go on dates. Try talking to one of the faeries instead. I heard they like flowers.”
“So, I have a type,” Oscar grumbled. “I like a tall, strong woman. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” Rayth bit back a laugh. There was never any point in trying to change the stubborn man’s mind once it had been made up. The brownie was a hopeless romantic of a midget who was convinced his soul mate would show up at the circus someday. “Who knows? Maybe I’m wrong and some enormous, five-foot fireball will fall head over heels for you.” Finished loosening his muscles, he stepped over to the hay bale to lean over his friend with a smirk. “Just quit ogling me from behind, will ya? It’s getting creepy.”
“Cut your lady locks, and we have a deal,” Oscar retorted dryly.
Rayth just snorted in response and turned away from him to join the rest of the performers, who were beginning to gather near the clown alley. The opening of the show would be starting soon, and they were expecting a straw house this time. Word about the circus had spread all over southern California, and since it was the last night before they packed up for the next jump, every ticket had sold out.
Even the sideshows had been packed all evening with people who wanted to get a glimpse of the traveling wonder before it was too late. Oddities that Rayth considered boring next to the grand show were treated like precious miracles of nature. He had a feeling the spectacles in the big top were going to make this crowd go wild.
As the monsters congregated, they all centered around one figure: the ringmistress, Frieda Sommer, who stood before them prepared to give the same speech she always did at the start of their shows. Her crystalline blue eyes swept over the throng of creatures, slightly intimidating in their intensity. It was as if she could see more than everyone else, though no one was sure if it was true. As a faerie, she could choose to don whatever appearance she liked best. This imposing skyscraper of a body just happened to be her favorite look, and the glass-colored irises that came with it were her preference as well.
Still, Rayth wouldn’t have been surprised if she knew more than she let on. Frieda always seemed to have an answer for everything, like a Magic 8 ball that was never wrong. He, like all the rest of the circus, trusted her to make the best decisions for them as their leader. She hadn’t let them down so far.
“Sisters and brothers,” the faerie began once everyone was listening. She had a familial way about her and a smooth, full voice that drew Rayth in like a fly to honey. Even though he’d heard her speech a hundred times, he didn’t mind sitting through it again.
As he waited for her to go on, he felt a sudden bump against his leg. Glancing down, he saw that Oscar had scuttled up beside him and was waiting with his arms expectantly outstretched. The communication was silent but effective. He picked the brownie up and let him sit on his shoulders, so the small man could see the ringmistress’s alabaster face above the crowd.
Frieda committed to the usual recital about her fondness of their shows thus far, her confidence that the next one would be just as good, and a brief reminder that no one was to touch any humans until the after party had begun. It was a pretty standard message, but before anyone had a chance to walk away, she added one more piece that they hadn’t heard before.
“And if anything unusual happens tonight, I expect you all to be flexible,” the faerie smiled warmly. “Have a good show, everyone.”
With that, she turned around and disappeared into the big top, leaving them with no further explanation.
As soon as she was gone, the troupe members began organizing themselves into their respective performance groups and lining up down the length of the clown alley. Everything about their movements was like clockwork after years of practice. However, Rayth wasn’t as quick to join them.
“What was that about?” he frowned, peering up at Oscar who was still seated on his shoulders. “It’s our last night in LA. What’s different about this show that she felt like she had to prepare us for?”
“How should I know?” the brownie wriggled uncomfortably. “Put me down, Rayth. I have to get ready to join my group.”
The half-vampire complied wordlessly with Oscar’s request and then watched him scamper off to the rest of the brownies before he moved to take up his own space in line. As baffled as he was by Frieda’s warning, there wasn’t any time to think about it. The grand entrance for all the performers was first on the agenda, and he needed to stay grounded so he wouldn’t mess up his part.
He took a deep breath as the line started to move.
Let the show begin.

[Riven Wight]

“What do you mean, ‘sold out?’” Arla nearly shouted, her volume having nothing to do with being heard over the music thumping through the air.
The woman manning the ticket booth tapped her long, burgundy-painted nails against the countertop. The lighting inside the booth glittered off a sequined bandanna of the same shade, the fabric keeping her mousy, braided hair in place.
The woman sighed impatiently. “I mean, we’re sold out. There aren’t any more tickets left.”
“Not even one?” Arla leaned against the rim of counter sticking out past the booth’s plexiglass window. Though always more effective against men, she bat her vibrant green eyes at the woman, hoping to look both adorable and pathetic at the same time. “I don’t need an actual seat. I’d be fine with standing.”
The woman raised a finely plucked eyebrow, unimpressed. She flicked a piece of lint from her frilly white blouse. “I can’t do that, hon. You should’ve gotten here earlier.” She stood from her chair and adjusted her layered skirt.
Arla scowled at the ground, biting back a sharp retort.
“C’mon!” she groaned instead. “I’m with my school paper!” She held up the DSLR camera hanging around her neck, accentuating her half-lie. “If I don’t get something for it, the team’ll never forgive me!”
The woman sighed again, eyeing the teen.
Despite obvious attempts at cleaning up, hints of dust and dirt smeared over Arla’s face and clung to her jeans. Her long, recently blue-dyed hair looked like it had been combed with fingers as a hasty afterthought. Her too-large black leather jacket hung awkwardly from her petite form, its addition to her attire odd in the day’s remaining warmth.
“I’m sorry, hon.” She reached up for the metal visor above the ticket booth window. She paused to glance at Arla. “But there’s nothing I can do. The last show’s about to start, and I need to close up for tonight. I’m sure you can find something else to report about.”
With that, she drew the metal visor down with a rolling clang of finality.
Arla groaned. She glanced to the couple security guards patrolling just beyond the booth, making sure no party crashers snuck in. As if sensing her gaze, a thick, burly man with a bald head and prominent overbite looked to her. His shadowed brows rose, and he crossed his thick arms over his broad chest as he met her eyes. A yellow jacket declared him a part of the security team.
She glared back at his unspoken dare to try running past him. Part of her wanted to take him up on it, but the potential risk of getting caught and winding up in a police car kept her in place. That, or she’d just get pummeled into the earth by the seven-foot-tall brute. One of the two.
With a growling sigh, Arla turned and marched away from the entrance. Making more of a show of it than necessary, she crossed the street into the parking lot, then ducked behind one of the cars.
Squinting against the light flooding the area, she peeked around the car. Raising her camera as discretely as she could, she zoomed in on the entrance to get a better look amidst the glaring lights of the circus.
The brightness of floodlights rose into the heavens. It created a haze above the carnival that fought against the dark sky as if it could replace the long-lost sun’s glow. More colored lights twinkled around a large sign written in a looping, ballooned text, erasing any possible doubts that she had reached the Cirque du Sombre.
Music blared through the night. Some of the lights danced in time with its beat. The din of laughter and shouts fought against the tunes. A high privacy fence surrounded the unfamiliar fairgrounds. From between the gap for the entrance, she could just make out the forms of people weaving through the aisles created by various tents and booths. From what Arla assumed was the center of the grounds, the tip of the Big Top surveyed it all, watching proudly like a king on his throne.
A gentle, warm wind blew through the night, bringing with it the sickly-sweet smell of cotton candy, popcorn, funnel cakes, and innumerable other tantalizing junk foods.
Arla’s stomach growled. She scowled. “Oh, shut it,” she snarled at it.
On the bright side, she supposed, not having to pay for a ticket meant she’d have money for food. She snapped a picture as the beast-of-a-man turned away, apparently satisfied she had gone, but not cocky enough to abandon his post.
She’d just have to find another way in.
She crept her way along the cars. Once positive she was out of the guards’ view, she hurried between a pair of palm trees and made her way to the fence.
Doing her best to not look suspicious, she walked along the fence line, the barricade towering well above her meager 5’3.” She kept an eye out for any other openings or possible handholds to help her inside.
The area grew quieter as she distanced herself from the cars and crowds. The lights from the parking lot gave way to shadow-drenched trees surrounding the fairgrounds. Away from all the bright lights, Arla couldn’t help but relax just a bit.
She paused as she noticed a ray of light spearing out from the fence. A grin on her lips, she hurried to it.
A few feet from the ground, rot had eaten a hole in part of the wooden fence. It was a small thing, just large enough for her fist to fit through. She took a step back, gauging the space between the ground, the hole, and the top of the towering fence. She ran her tongue over her teeth in contemplation.
With a quiet “hmm,” she nodded. She quickly slipped her camera from around her neck and shrugged from her black backpack. She pulled out the camera’s padded, protective case and put the device away. She quickly took off her jacket, not wanting to risk it getting caught on anything, revealing a navy t-shirt beneath. She shoved it into the backpack atop the case, then zipped the bag shut.
She frowned at the bulk of the bag. Silently hoping it wouldn’t throw her too far off balance, she shouldered the backpack, then stepped further from the fence. She eyed it for a moment more, bouncing her weight from one foot to the other in preparation.
Another breeze blew by, catching in her hair and toying with the strands. She gasped and spun around as something rustled behind her. Her heart jumped into her throat, and a hand reached to the sheathed hunting knife she’d forgotten to remove from her belt.
She stared into the shadows of the trees, waiting, searching. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness almost immediately, easily picking out the finest details.
But nothing else stirred.
Arla took a deep breath, trying to resummon the bravado the scare had momentarily chased off.
She ran a hand through her hair. You lost them, you idiot, she reassured herself. They couldn’t have followed you.
She had already nearly convinced herself she had only imagined the monsters in the warehouse that first night. But only nearly. It had felt too real, and the pictures on her other camera assured her she hadn’t gone completely nuts.
She shook her head, making herself refocus on the task at hand. As terrifying as monsters were, going back home wasn’t an option she was willing to take. She’d rather the monsters to that.
Reluctantly, she turned her back on the tree line. Taking a breath, she darted to the fence. She quickened her pace the last couple steps toward the fence, putting extra speed into the wood and hoping it was sturdy enough to hold her.
She jumped up into the fence, letting the tip her shoe catch slightly on the hole. The fence creaked and groaned, but didn’t give way. Using the momentum and resistance from her foot’s placement, she launched herself up further, arms already reaching for the top of the fence. She gripped the top and grit her teeth, feeling the strain in her muscles as she pulled herself up, then over.
She was going to feel that in the morning.
Too late, it dawned on her that she had a drop on the other side. Her backpack caught for a second, jerking it painfully from her shoulders as she fell to the ground inside the fairgrounds. She just managed to stifle a shout as she landed front-first in a patch of damp grass.
“Ow,” she moaned into the dirt as her backpack thumped down beside her.
She was going to feel that worse in the morning.
Scowling, she pushed herself up and brushing herself off. Not that it helped much. She crossed her arms and stared triumphantly at the fence.
Told her parkour videos weren’t a waste of time, she thought smugly, making a mental note to gloat if she ever saw her best friend, Scarlett, again.
Turning, she took in her surroundings. Thankfully, no one had noticed her oh-so-elegant arrival.
The area was deserted. A few thick cords snaked their way across the lawn and a sidewalk, weaving into a few nearby booths. Whatever games, food, or other eccentricity they had held had been covered or removed for the night. Which meant whoever was in charge of them had either retired, or already headed to the last show of the evening.
Though she wasn’t entirely sure who she needed to speak to, she had the feeling the ring master—or mistress, as the advertisement had boasted—would be her best bet. But, in all likelihood, she’d be preparing to lead the main show right about now.
Arla glanced down at herself. Wet, muddy grass stains created circles on her knees, adding to her quickly growing homeless appearance. She sighed heavily as she retrieved her backpack. She’d planned on changing when she got here, to make herself presentable for a job interview, but if she was going to get into that tent, she had to go now.
Praying the fall hadn’t done any damage to her beloved camera, she returned the bag to its place at her back. She winced, her arms already protesting the movement.
Setting her sights on the Big Top, she squared her shoulders and strode into the main rows of the traveling circus. Steps confident, she kept a discrete eye out for any sign of security or the woman from the ticket booth. She was far too close, had come too far to let herself get stopped or second guess herself now.
The outskirt rows were eerily empty. But the sounds of voices and music grew louder as she neared the show tent, people young and old chattering eagerly about what was to come.
Giddy delight welled in Arla’s chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been to a circus. She wanted to stop at each booth and tent that remained open, to examine what they had to offer, from last calls for games to fortune readings and more. But she stopped only once in her rush to buy a bag of popcorn and a loaded hot dog from a closing vendor before hurrying on her way.
She shielded her eyes against the harsher lights as she passed, the brightness blurring the world further ahead of her. She slowed her pace, hating the light sensitivity that always came with the rise of the night.
She paused as she reached the short remaining line of people still waiting to enter the main attraction. The eager energy in the air intensified, and even Arla couldn’t help but smile expectantly.
She carefully inserted herself into the dwindling crowd. She kept close to a family with a couple kids who looked close to her age. They spared her scarcely a glance, too intent on the thrills awaiting them inside to question her presence. She was ushered in with the rest, her extra head count going unnoticed by the couple security guards guarding the entrance.
Inside, bleachers created a circle around a short barrier outlining the circus ring. Tightropes spanned the length between two poles in the ring, waiting for their acrobats with more patience than the crowd. The smell of food and sweaty bodies swelled. The noise of voices became nearly deafening. Audience members packed close together on the stands, looking more like colorful sardines than people.
She chose a spot between stands she thought would be out of security’s direct line of sight. She she sat her popcorn down on a small open space at the end of a bench beside a plump man with a pleasant expression. He glanced down at her curiously, said something that got lost in the din, then looked back to the woman beside him as she spoke animatedly.
Arla watched him for a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to shoo her away, then bit into her hot dog. The twang of the relish merged perfectly with the sweetness of the bun and saltiness of the meat. Though she couldn’t say whether it was because she hadn’t eaten since an early, skimpy breakfast, or if carnival food was just better, she swore it was the best hot dog she’d ever had.
She leaned against the stands and crossed one leg in front of the other, savoring the hot dog. If she’d have to wait for the show to end to approach the ring mistress, she may as well enjoy it.
She soaked it all in, relishing the electric atmosphere of anticipation and thankful the lighting inside was dimmer than that outside. A couple colored spotlights danced experimentally inside the ring. Strands of white lights hung down the tent walls, casting a soft glow around the area.
Her smile widened as she let her gaze wander. It all felt rather… magical. Surreal. As if anything could happen in this place where acrobats would seemingly defy the laws of physics, well-practiced magicians would awe the audience with illusions, and fire-eaters would woo the onlookers with dangerous acts. And if all went as she planned, this was what she’d get to enjoy every day from here on out.
At last, she would be truly free.
She only hoped she wouldn’t have to be a clown.

[Rogue Sloth]

“Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages: Welcome to the strangest show on Earth.”
Frieda’s smooth, German voice carried through the thick curtain of the big top as she began her opening speech. Rayth could hear it faintly from where he stood waiting in the clown alley. Her intonation was theatrically loud but still held a hypnotic, soothing quality that beckoned one to relax as she introduced the show. A tribute to her faerie magic, he guessed.
“Tonight, you will experience sights and sensations as you never have before.”
Rayth stuck a piece of twine in his mouth and reached up to pull his wild hair back from his face with both hands. As the circus’s blade master, he needed to keep his eyes clear when it was his turn to perform. Throwing daggers and spinning scythes was dangerous enough work without being suddenly blinded by a stray lock of unruly hair. Plus, it would save him the trouble of scrubbing out sweat and face paint once the show was over. The stuff could be as stubborn as gum sometimes.
“I bring to you the most eclectic group of performers Los Angeles has ever seen. Each and every one has a unique talent that will leave you breathless with awe and horror.”
With his hair pinned up in a messy ponytail, Rayth let his hands drop back down to his sides. He exhaled through his mouth, causing his cheeks to puff out as he bounced restlessly on the balls of his feet. He always got jittery right before the start of a show. Even though he knew it was just a means to an end, he really did enjoy performing in front of an audience. It was fun to listen to the gasps and cheers as he showed off his talents, and he wasn’t shy about being the center of attention. He couldn’t wait to go in.
“For their safety and yours, please enjoy the acts without the use of flash photography or any other bright lights. Many of their performances are dangerous and require dedicated focus.”
It was almost time now. Rayth mouthed along with Frieda’s words as she spoke, able to recite her speech by memory after hearing it said so many times now. No matter where the circus stopped, it was always the same thing. The faerie seemed to live by the policy, ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’
“Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the thrills of the world of Cirque du Sombre.”
As soon as the ringmistress finished speaking, the music playing inside the big top rose to a crescendo, and the grand entrance commenced.
Bursting with excitement, Rayth fell in step with the rest of the line as they paraded into the ring. The troupe moved with the rhythm of the melody in a colorful display of costumes designed to dazzle the spectators’ eyes. Every motion was choreographed and artfully executed by the troupers. Changelings flickered and morphed from one form to the next, succubi danced hypnotically, wood sprites twirled on aerial mechanics, and faeries flitted about room, captivating the audience with their spellbinding magic.
Everyone who was able to perform acrobatics did so as well.
Rayth paired up with a werewolf girl named Briella in a duet of graceful cartwheels and flips across the center of the ring. It was the same routine they executed at every show, but the feeling of twisting and turning in the air never ceased to get his heart racing. He could also forget that Briella hated him outside the fabric walls of the big top.
Like most of the other monsters in the circus, she found his loud energy and zeal for life abrasive and often snarled at him when he tried to approach her. Luckily for him, there was no room for personal biases in the ring. During the show, they were all a team whether they got along or not.
He supposed it also helped that he kept his mouth shut during the acts.
The grand entrance probably lasted close to ten minutes, but to Rayth, it felt much shorter. When it was finally over, everyone in the procession filed artistically back out of the big top except for the two oracles who would perform the first stand-alone act. Their eccentric fortune telling and pointing out of specific people in the crowd always excited a morbid curiosity in the spectators. They simultaneously wanted to hear the predictions of their fates yet dreaded to find those gnarled old fingers aimed at them.
Meanwhile, the rest of the troupe retired to the back yard once again.
As soon as he passed out of the house’s sight, Rayth turned to Briella with a toothy grin that showed off his fangs in the low light. “Nice job on that last layout,” he complimented her in a meager attempt to be friendly.
The werewolf girl glanced at him briefly before turning her chin up with an irritable scoff. Her golden braid whipped across her shoulders with the motion. “Just focus on your own part, halfer,” she growled, stalking off to join a group of creatures lounging about the hay bales.
Rayth clicked his tongue at her back. No matter what he tried, some of the other monsters in the circus just couldn’t get past the fact that he had a human for a father. He didn’t understand why they cared so much. He had plenty in common with the rest of them even if he only had half supernatural blood running through his veins.
Unfortunately, half just wasn’t good enough for everyone.
The group Briella had joined were the main culprits among those who didn’t like him, so Rayth didn’t even bother trying to approach them. Instead, he turned around and ambled over to a section of lawn chairs that had been set out for the performers to relax in. The cluster of colorful fabric seats reminded him of moms at a high school soccer game.
With a sigh, he collapsed in the closest one, a gorgeous royal blue chair caked with dust and torn along the back by a werebeast who couldn’t keep his claws to himself. His act was one of the last of the night, so he decided he might as well fit in a nap before his cue.
Sliding down in the seat, he rested his head on the flimsy backrest and closed his eyes. However, he didn’t get a chance to drift off before a familiar voice interrupted him.
“Not you again.”
Rayth opened his eyes to see Oscar standing by his left side with his arms folded moodily and his bushy, orange brows shoved together like a fat caterpillar on his face.
He smiled amusedly, “Hey, pendejo, the only ones allowed back here are kinkers and prop men. Who do you think you’re going to meet?”
“Maybe someone got lost,” Oscar muttered. “Besides, there’s nothing else to do until it’s my turn to go on.”
Like Rayth, most of the other creatures in the circus weren’t fond of the brownie. He had a propensity to cause trouble, since his kind were beings of mischief, and the others didn’t like being pranked or having their belongings swiped from them when they weren’t looking.
In similar positions as outcasts, the two had formed something of a bond.
But that didn’t mean Rayth wouldn’t mess with him.
“You know what?” he lifted his hand to his chin as if suddenly struck by a thought. “I heard a rumor that Briella was talking about you earlier. Word around the yard is that she’s been waiting for you to ask her out.”
“Briella?” Oscar’s eyes went wide and the fuzzy orange caterpillars jumped upward.
Rayth knew the werewolf was exactly his friend’s type: over five feet. He nodded, “Oh yeah. In fact, I think you should ask her now. She might play hard to get, but she’s really been waiting all night.”
“Alright, I will,” Oscar stood up straighter, running a hand through his curly ginger hair. He turned to the group Briella was sitting with and wriggled his shoulders determinedly. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” Rayth grinned, watching the brownie stride over to the temperamental girl like a warrior marching into battle. Even from a distance, he could tell it wasn’t going to go well, but at least he managed to get back at her for calling him a ‘halfer.’ Now, she’d have to put up with Oscar’s flirting for the rest of the night.
Content with his petty revenge, the half-vampire settled down more comfortably in his ragged lawn chair to take a nap.
He slept for almost an hour before he felt a hand on his shoulder, stirring him from his light slumber.
“Your act is in five minutes, Rayth,” Frieda’s smooth-as-honey voice coaxed him awake.
“I’m up,” he yawned broadly, stretching his arms and legs to get his blood flowing again.
The ringmistress left him alone, and he got up to wait by the back curtain while the group before him, a comedic relief troupe of goblins and brownies that Oscar was a part of, finished the rest of their act.
He wondered how many wallets the troublemakers had stolen from the house this time.
Nearby, two of the prop men were already standing by with his gear. One carried a long, black bag for swords and other large blades along with a short bag for daggers and the like. The other was positioned next to an oversized wheel with medieval-looking wrist and ankle straps. Once it was time for his show, they would bring everything out to the ring for him.
As Frieda said, about five minutes passed before an applause erupted from within the big top, and the patrol of tiny men exited through the back.
Rayth held his hand down by his leg for Oscar to “tap out” as was their tradition when they traded out of the ring.
“Funny little fellows, aren’t they?”
He could hear Frieda’s German lilt inside the big top once the cheers died down.
“Prepare to hold onto the edge of your seats, because our next performer will be quite different. Instead of water guns and pies, his weapon of choice is a blade.”
There was a pause, and Rayth could imagine the ringmistress slowly pacing around the edge of the stage to build suspense.
“Our warrior tonight uses the most dangerous equipment, and every trick he performs is at the risk of his own life.”
Well, that was an exaggeration. Rayth smirked to himself. He did use real blades, but he practiced often enough that he could run through the routine with his eyes closed. The faerie was just promoting the “danger” as a way to captivate the crowd even more. If they thought there was a chance he would gore himself in front of them, there was no doubt that they’d be transfixed by the act.
“It is my pleasure to introduce to you: The Reaper of Cique du Sombre.”
That was his cue.
Taking a grounding breath, Rayth picked up his scythe from the stash of circus supplies near the curtain and headed into the big top.
Like the grand entrance, his act was choreographed almost entirely to music. The nonverbal aspect of the show made it easier to persuade the audience to suspend their beliefs and enter the world of the circus.
For his performance, a rapid four-count song played over the loudspeakers while he spun and manipulated his weapon with ease.
Though the staff of the scythe was longer than he was tall, Rayth handled it elegantly. As he made his way around the edge of the ring, he twirled it around his arms and legs and even tossed it into the air where it spiraled briskly before falling back into his outstretched hands. The polished, curved blade flashed sinisterly whenever it caught the light, and he often let it glide close enough to his skin to tease gasps of terror out of the spectators.
This first part of his routine was predominantly acrobatic, and he incorporated plenty of cartwheels, handstands and backflips amongst the tricks he did with the scythe. He used to get dizzy from all the motion when he’d first started out, but after practicing for so long, he was much better at keeping his head on straight while the circus felt like it was spinning around him.
After about five minutes, the music slowed down considerably, signaling the transition to the second part of his act.
Rayth stopped by the smaller bag the prop man had put out, setting his first weapon down on the ground and picking up a few daggers. He tossed one in the air and caught it in his hand. After repeating the motion two more times, he added a second dagger and then a third until he was juggling the blades to the beat of the song.
The crowd went wild for the thrill of the perceived danger.
At the end of the short part, Rayth threw each small blade over his shoulder at the wheel behind him and proceeded to walk around the edge of the ring. He wore a thoughtful expression as his red eyes scanned through the house.
Catching on to what he was doing, most of the people in the first few rows of the grandstand shied away from his gaze, trying to avoid being selected as an audience participant.
Not all of them got away unseen.
After a brief period of searching, Rayth spotted a man who looked to be in his mid-fifties sitting in the front with his wife and two children. He hopped over the barricade that separated the performers from the towners and offered his hand in a theatrical bow.
The man turned red and shook his head to refuse the request, but every seasoned performer knew not to give up with the first denial.
Rayth beckoned him again, getting closer this time to take the man’s hand that he had held up to ward the entertainer off.
This time, his kids pitched their support.
There was no way for him to get out of it now.
With a groan, the man finally rose from his seat to the eager cheers of the audience, and allowed Rayth to lead him over to the big wheel.
When they reached it, Rayth mimed for the reluctant participant to stay put while he grabbed a small step ladder from the edge of the ring.
The man’s eyes widened as he seemed to realize what he’d been selected to do, but as he turned to get away, the performer cut him off with a scolding gesture and spun him back around to face the wheel.
It took some coaxing, but after nearly a minute, Rayth managed to persuade his nervous participant to let him strap him to the device.
Once that was done, he stepped down from the ladder and kicked it aside, leaving the man to dangle freely while he waggled a throwing knife in front of the house. He took a few paces away from the wheel and then turned around, holding the blade by his ear and stretching out his arm as he took an exaggerated aim.
After repeating the motion a couple times, he hurled the knife at his target. It embedded itself in the wood just to the right of the man’s waist, and the spectators howled their approval.
Rayth threw two more knives that landed to the participant’s left side and above his head before pausing to bring his hand to his chin, as if he was displeased.
Trotting over to the wheel, he gripped the edge and gave it a push to make it start spinning.
The man paled as Rayth took up his position to throw his knives again, but he had nothing to worry about. The half-vampire had better eyesight than any pureblooded human could ever hope to achieve. He knew he wouldn’t miss.
Rayth threw three more knives at the poor sap before he finally released him.
As soon as the man was back on his feet, he staggered back out of the ring, knock-kneed from both dizziness and fright.
The crowd laughed in amusement and the music changed one more time as Rayth got ready for the last part of his act.
Reaching into the larger bag, he drew a sword, which he brandished for everyone to see.
He paraded the blade in a short circle before coming to a stop in the center of the circus ring. Tilting his head back, he turned the weapon around in his hand and lowered it into his open mouth. The sword slid almost up to the hilt as he swallowed it, and he let go briefly to give a curt bow—or more accurately bend at the knees, since he couldn’t lean forward without impaling himself—before he pulled it back out.
As expected, the house went wild for the finale, and he bowed again with a little more flair while Frieda returned to the big top announce the next act.
During her short speech, Rayth collected the scythe he’d left on the ground and returned to the clown alley. With his solo performance finally out of the way, all that was left was to wait for the show to end and the after party to begin.
He couldn’t wait.

---

“Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages: I do hope you enjoyed tonight’s show,” Frieda projected from the center of the ring. The last act of the night had just ended, and the time had come to dismiss the crowd. Her crystal-like eyes swept over the delicious faces of each human in the audience. Most of them would be going home shortly, but her faeries had been hard at work throughout the last hour and a half selecting those who would be invited to attend the circus’s private after party. The lucky few would become dinner for her entourage of monsters that night.
“As I’m sure many of you know, we have a tradition here at Cirque du Sombre,” she continued, smiling mysteriously out at the house. “The time has come for you to look beneath your seats and find out if you’ve been chosen to join us for our exclusive, after-dark entertainment. If you find a black envelope, it means you are welcome to attend. Just show your invitation to the bouncers at the back curtain, and they will let you in.”
Hey blue eyes drifted over the crowd once more only to land on the face of a young, blue-haired girl. “I hope you’ll find it in your interest to join us. Goodnight, everyone.”
With that, she disappeared through the back of the big top, and the grandstands came to life as the sea of people began to disperse.

[Riven Wight]

Movement form where the rear of the ring met the performers’ entrance made Arla’s attention snap back to it. Filters removed, the colored lights changed to a soft white and settled on a tall woman as she emerged. Her words boomed over the din of the crowd and music-blaring speakers.
The woman’s enchanting, accented voice charmed the audience into a hush. Arla found herself sucked in with everyone else around her as the ringmistress spoke, her words flowing over them like honey. Though she had to have practiced the speech many times, the woman sounded genuine, rather than like she was simply reciting something from memory.
The word “photography” slowly drew Arla back to her senses.
Right. Right! She shook her head, forcing her gaze away from the ringmistress. She placed the bit of her remaining hot dog in its paper tray and shrugged out of her backpack. She cast a quick glance to the tent’s entrance. Thankfully, she didn’t recognize the couple security workers lurking in the shadows. Which meant she'd be free to move around the tent.
She glanced up at the ring, hurriedly pulling out her camera and changing out its lens as the performers filed out on stage. By the time she had readjusted her pack at her back and readied her camera, the first few leading the parade had already passed her.
She watched in awe, only just remembering to actually take pictures as the rest of the performers danced by. Some flipped through the air, already defying the laws of gravity in this pre-show. Others danced seductively, gaining the hungry gazes of many of the audience. She could guess some of their acts by their outfits and makeup, some marching shirtless and others dressed in elaborate costumes, each one beautiful in its own right. But others she'd have wait to find out what part they would play.
All too soon, their teaser procession came to an end, the last of the long line returning whence they’d come. A shiver of pleasure stepped down Arla’s spine and a grin spread over her face, knowing that this display was only the beginning.
As the ringmistress retook the stage to announce the first act, Arla took the chance to shove the rest of her hot dog in her mouth. Leaving its tray behind, she grabbed her small bag of popcorn as the first act tumbled onto stage.
She moved about the ring for the remainder of the show, hunting for the best possible angles for each act. A couple others had the same idea, their own expensive-looking cameras giving them away as either journalists or enthusiasts.
Arla often found herself forgetting her task, getting caught up in the acts. Even the ones she had expected went above and beyond, turning the impossible into reality. The music shifted with each performance, modern and techno mixing with classic and eerie tunes to perfectly accentuate each one.
Flames obeyed the fire-dancers in unusual ways, snaking dangerously close to the audience, but never close enough to do any real harm. Contortionists bent unnaturally yet fluidly, as if they were made of taffy rather than flesh and bone as they worked through a tumbling act. The lights in the tent were extinguished for a poi act, which she watched through the adjusted digital screen of her camera to avoid seeing through the dark and ruining the mysticism of the act.
Arla quickly lost track of all the performances. Time seemed a relative term, like it ran on its own timetable within the tent. Enticed like everyone else, it became easy to forget about everything but the awe-inspiring performances. The audience whistled and shouted, held their breath and applauded, united by the magic of the circus.
Then came the Reaper, the ringmistress artfully building up his act as she had with all the others.
Arla smirked at yet another intriguing, dramatic name. She guessed this was going to be their knife-throwing act even before the prop men set up the weapons the Reaper needed with practiced efficiency.
She blinked in surprise when a boy who looked not much older than herself strode out, wielding a scythe. Then, her grin widened; he was really going all out with that name. All the bare-chested boy was missing was a hooded robe.
The Reaper wasted no time, his steps and movements matching the music. In a matter of seconds, Arla fell back under the spell of the acts. She gasped and held her breath with the audience as the Reaper’s scythe came close enough to his skin that he had to be down a few hairs. She quickly forgot his youth in his skill long before he switched weapons.
It took her a few backwards-throws into the new part of his performance before she realized, like everyone else, that he wasn’t just walking the ring to show off. He was looking for a volunteer.
Arla snapped back to reality with a gasp. She hadn’t had the misfortune of getting spotted as a gate-crasher yet, but she’d be a fool to push her luck. Though she knew her chance of being picked was slim, she ducked quickly behind a stand before the boy could take notice of her.
She poked her head carefully around the stand when the crowd cheered, signaling the Reaper had chosen a victim. She slowly crawled back out of her hiding spot, camera ever at the ready.
She returned in time to watch the fearful man get ushered toward an upright wheel. It was real anxiety on his face, not an act put on by a performer hidden in the stands.
Huh. What’d you know, she thought absently as she moved to get a better angle on the Reaper and his wheel.
Her eyes widened and an anxious murmur rose through the crowd as the Reaper strapped the man in. Wondering if this was even legal, she glanced to the man’s empty seat, his family looking on in a mix of dread and awe.
Whether from luck or skill—or both—everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the man came out of the act unscathed. Besides looking like he was about to faint, that was.
Smirking, Arla couldn’t help but snap a quick, discrete picture of him and his distress as he wobbled back to his family.
Definitely not a carnival worker.
What felt only moments after it had started, the audience applauded the knife-thrower’s last act. They quieted quickly as the ringmistress addressed them once more.
Arla settled with the crowd, the excitement of the danger in the Reaper's act opening a new door that made the audience buzz.
There was no telling what else awaited.

With her empty popcorn bag lost somewhere amidst the mess the rest of the audience had made, the finale came to an end. The audience applauded and whistled, many giving a standing ovation.
Arla sighed wistfully, watching the performers disappear backstage. Though it had to have been at least a two-hour show, it ended far too soon. But the end meant her chance to speak with the ringmistress was drawing near.
She looked to the towering woman as she took center stage again, the spotlights focusing back on the leader.
While everyone else in the audience eagerly began to check under their seats at the news of the afterparty, Arla groaned in dismay. Afterparties were typically adults-only affairs. And something she’d be surprised if the ringmistress didn’t attend. Which meant she had yet another event to figure out how to sneak into, or would have to wait and hide out for who knew how long for it to end.
Unless, of course, she could manage to steal one of those envelopes.
She leaned against the stand beside her, trying to be discrete as she glanced at those closest to her. Watching for an opportunity to snatch an envelope from someone when they weren’t paying attention.
Her gaze shifted unintentionally to the ringmistress just as the woman’s eyes landed directly on her.
Arla inhaled and stiffened, wondering if the woman had somehow sensed her intent. She tensed, ready to run if the ringmistress called her out, or signaled security.
But she did neither.
Arla blinked in confusion at the woman’s words, watching the ringmistress leave the ring. Though spoken for everyone to hear, she swore she had said them directly to her. Arla stood there for a long moment as the noise of the audience filled the tent.
She sighed heavily. She was just being paranoid. And had likely been acting more suspicious than she’d thought to gain the extra attention. If she hadn't just imagined it altogether.
With a long wait ahead, she took off her pack to return her camera inside. She put it on the ground and knelt in front of it. She moved to take the camera from around her neck, but froze.
A small part of the backpack's main compartment’s zipper was open. And a portion of a black envelope stuck out of it. She let the camera thump back against her, then removed the envelope, the action slow from disbelief.
A bit larger than your standard envelope, a logo glistened at the center on the front of the satin paper. Silver created the outline of a Big Top. The entrance flap formed into a grin with the circus’ name in an elegant script for teeth. A pair of eyes rested above it, their irises metallic blue and pupils black feline slits that bled into the rest of the paper at the top.
In that moment, she thought she knew how Charlie felt when he’d found the Golden Ticket.
A grin spread over her face as she flipped it over. A red wax seal kept it closed, the logo from the front pressed into the wax.
She wouldn’t have to steal one, after all.
Wondering how they’d snuck it in there without her noticing, she glanced around. She half expected someone to be behind her to ask her for the envelope, to tell her it was a mistake. But only the dwindling audience met her, none of them paying her any mind. The energy in the tent had only intensified, conversations and minds still trying to wrap around what they had witnessed.
Zipping her backpack fully closed, she returned it to her back. Shoulders squared and smug smile ever on her lips, she strode around the ring toward the back. She followed a couple people who had separated from the rest of the crowd heading home for the night.
She surveyed the others who had received invitations. As she had figured, she was the only one underaged heading to the back exit. The thought that they’d apparently mistaken her as an adult made her smile widen and her posture straighten proudly.
She waited her turn as the others ahead of her showed their own black invitations to one of two people standing guard on either side of the exit. She proudly showed hers to a gangly man more arms and legs than body—how he’d been selected as a bouncer, she couldn’t fathom.
The brows of his narrow face rose as he looked down at Arla with eerily black eyes. Unlike with those before her, he took her envelope and examined it closer, as if making absolutely sure it wasn’t fake.
She stared at him with cool, firm confidence. “Can I go,” she nodded to the tent doors, now tied open for the afterparty attendees, “or what? You’re holding up the line.”
He gave a soft, “hmm,” before what Arla thought was understanding crossed his face. He shrugged, returned her invitation, and jerked his head toward the exit.
“And nice contacts,” she complimented as she took the envelope.
His black-painted lips pulled up in a smirk. “Much appreciated, young miss,” he said as she stepped after the others, his voice soft and sibilant.
She paused, casting him a glance over her shoulder as the next woman in line showed him her invitation. She couldn’t say what, but something about that guy made her neck hairs prickle.
She took a deep breath and shook her head. Quit it with the paranoia! she scolded herself, scowling. There’s nothing to worry about here. One hand toying with her camera and the other clutching the envelope, she hurried after the others.
Now all she needed to do was find the ringmistress.

[Rogue Sloth]

During the last thirty minutes of the show, the back yard was transformed from a cluttered mess of props, discarded costumes and lawn chairs into a comfortable, inviting lounge. All the circus troupers who weren’t performing helped set it up. Some raised a black fabric canopy to cover the area while others carted out padded rugs and stuffed seating from their trailers to replace the hay bales they’d been using before. String lights provided the only illumination over the area, casting multicolored patterns on the ground in the shades of red and purple and creating an enticing ambiance for the invitees.
Adding to the hypnotic quality of the space, sensuous music pulsed at a perfect tempo for both dancing or relaxing, coaxing all who listened to give in to its bewitching beat. Even some of the monsters swayed as they arranged their epicurean den in preparation for their dinner to arrive.
Around the edges of the yard, a number of small tables had been set up with stands of incense that burned steadily. Each one gave off a strong aroma of exotic spices, and the colorful smoke trailed away in wisps that seemed to tumble and twirl slowly through the air. The soothing scent was pleasant to breathe, but it also had a purpose: Every stick of incense was laced with chemical compound to make the party guests lower their inhibitions.
While the creatures of Cirque du Sombre were unaffected by the drug, the humans who breathed the smoke for too long would eventually lose their senses and later, their memories. Their altered states of minds made them more agreeable to feed upon, and the monsters didn’t have to worry about being discovered, because as far as anyone outside the circus was concerned, nothing had happened. Their prey would simply wake up the next morning with hangover-like symptoms, assume they’d gotten blackout drunk at the party and return to their normal lives without ever realizing they’d been food for a troupe of supernatural beings. It was the perfect cover.
Once the scene had been set, all that was left for everyone to wait for the chosen audience members to arrive.
Finished pitching his share of the work, Rayth flopped onto an orange beanbag chair and entertained himself by tossing a pebble he’d found on the ground from his left hand to his right. Oscar was off somewhere with the other brownies in the group, and he knew he’d just get snapped at again if he tried talking with anyone else—they were all especially grumpy right before their feedings—so he decided to keep to himself until the invitees showed up.
After a few minutes, he grew bored of the repetitive activity, so he dropped the pebble and let his head loll back, staring up at the canopy over the back yard with a mildly dazed expression. Even though he was a half vampire, the incense always got to him a little. His mind was fuzzy and his reflexes felt slow, as if he’d had one too many drinks at a party. He was just glad he had enough supernatural blood running through his veins that he wasn’t taken down by the drug like the humans they fed on.
He didn’t have to wait long before the first of the after party guests began to trickle in through the back of the big top.
As always, it seemed Frieda’s legion of faeries had selected a young crowd. Every man and woman who stepped into the back yard couldn’t have been older than their mid-twenties. At their physical peak, they would make fine meals for the troupe of bloodthirsty monsters just waiting to dine on them.
Rayth watched from where he was sitting as the new arrivals were immediately plucked away by the closest members of the circus and led to the open space in the middle of the yard to dance.
The hungriest among them always waited by the curtain to claim their prey before anyone else, while the rest hung back to wait their turns. Like the pecking order of a wolf pack, they found it easier to be patient and let the less controlled creatures go first rather than fight over the first few people to show up. There would be plenty for everyone anyway. Frieda always made sure of that, so not a single mouth in her circus would go unfed.
Once all the monsters who’d been stalking the curtain were gone, Rayth watched the fabric flaps more diligently, waiting for someone whom he could feed on to appear.
The first face through the curtain belonged to a young man who looked to be about twenty-two. He lingered by the big top as he took in the sight of the back yard: the pulsing low lights, the exotic, smoky air and the mingling performers and guests who were already dancing in the center or getting comfortable on the surrounding cushioned seats.
He only had a minute to take it all in before Briella pounced on him like a wildcat.
From a distance, Rayth could see her flash a coy smile as she dragged him by the hand to one of the fabric loveseats on the other side of the yard. Her method of persuasion had always been to flirt until her victim grew intoxicated from the burning incense.
Uninterested in what she was doing, Rayth turned away from the werewolf to keep watching the curtain, drumming his fingers against the edge of the beanbag chair. If someone walked through that would make good prey for him, he wanted to be ready to get to them before any of the others. He might not have been starving, but he was still hungry, after all.
Another minute passed and the fabric flap shifted again to admit another invitee.
Rayth sat up a little straighter as a woman entered this time. Or… not a woman. A girl who couldn’t have been older than her late teens. He blinked, tracking her with his eyes. With ragged, dirt-stained clothes and brightly dyed hair, she looked like the bass player for a high school rock band. He wondered how she had gotten into the circus’s after party when the faeries only selected people between the ages of twenty-one and twenty-five.
Whatever the case, he didn’t have time to think about it. He could already see one of the shades eyeing her from off to the side. If he wanted to get to her first, he had to act fast.
He was just about to stand up from his seat when he noticed something else that made him freeze. Another member of the circus was already approaching the punk rock girl: Frieda.
Rayth clicked his tongue disappointedly and sank back down in his chair. If Cirque du Sombre was a wolf pack, she was the alpha. Whoever the faerie chose as her prey was off limits to everyone else.
Luckily, it didn’t matter that Frieda had swiped the girl, because another female guest stepped in shortly after her.
This time, Rayth didn’t waste a second.
Standing up from the beanbag chair—and trying not to teeter from the effects of the chemicals he’d inhaled—the half vampire made his way across the yard to claim her before his competition had a chance. From the corner of his eye, he could see the shade curl his black lips into a snarl, but to his relief, the other creature made no move to intervene.
When he reached the new girl’s side, he noticed that she was too caught up in looking around to realize he was there. He smirked to himself, deciding to have a little fun with her.
“It’s something else, isn’t it?” he said, causing her to jump at the sound of his sudden voice.
The girl inhaled sharply and spun around with wide eyes. As her gaze landed on him, her fright was replaced with recognition. “You’re the knife thrower from the show,” she stated, looking him over with new intrigue. “The, uh… Grim Reaper, right?”
“Guilty as charged,” Rayth grinned, not bothering to correct her that his stage name was just The Reaper without the Grim.
The girl’s green eyes flickered to his mouth as she noticed his sharp canines. “Man, you guys really go all out on your costumes, huh?” she mused. “I didn’t even notice the fangs before.” Her gaze drifted back up to meet his, and she knitted her brow. “Or the color contacts.”
“We like to be thorough. It’s all part of the illusion,” Rayth lied with an air of mystery, taking a step away from the curtain and indicating with a tilt of his head for her to follow him. Of course, she did, and he led her over to the center of the yard, making it clear to the rest of the monsters that this one was his.
“Is that why you don’t dress down for the after party?” the girl teased as they walked.
“Of course,” he offered his hand to her in a silent indication to dance. “This wouldn’t be nearly as memorable if we all looked like you, would it?”
“I guess you’ve got a point,” she admitted, studying his face again as she took his hand. “It is pretty realistic.”
“Thank you,” Rayth flashed his fangs in another smile.
Finding the rhythm of the music, he led her through the steps of a simple dance. He was capable of more complex moves, but since the incense left him feeling nearly drunk, he didn’t want to push his luck and wind up losing his balance. All he had to do was keep her distracted long enough for the drug to affect her like it did him. Once she was too inebriated to understand what was going on, he could have his fill of her blood.
It was just a waiting game now.

---

“Are you certain she’s the one?” Frieda stood near the edge of the back yard with her hypnotic eyes fixed on the curtain. Some of the first humans had already arrived, but none of their faces were the one she was searching for. Usually, she waited with the rest of her entourage to feed on a victim of her own, but tonight, she had a different goal in mind, one that was far more important than filling her stomach.
“Quite,” the woman beside her croaked. As an oracle surviving from the time of the ancient Greeks, she could best be described as a hag. Her advanced age left her in a decrepit form with leathery skin, wispy white hair and gnarled joints that made other people wince painfully when she bent them. Her eyes were milky from cataracts as well, and it was questionable how much she was still able to see.
“The signs all point to her,” the crone went on in a voice like a tracheostomy patient. “The signs are never wrong.”
“Very well then,” Frieda murmured. She trusted the seer to point out the right girl. The oracle had been predicting her arrival for months. Tonight was the night they had been waiting for.
Almost as if on cue, the curtain pulled back, and the blue-haired teenager entered the yard.
There you are, Frieda’s red lips curled upward in a triumphant smile. She stepped away from her watch post to approach the girl before any of her creatures got to her first. There were already a few that were eyeing her hungrily, and she didn’t want to have to bother separating her from someone else whom had chosen her to be their dinner.
The ringmistress’s commanding presence alone was enough to ward off the creatures that had taken an interest in the girl, and she reached her without opposition.
“Welcome, my dear,” she greeted her warmly, her rich voice filled with soothing faerie magic. “Did you enjoy the show?”

[Riven Wight]

Arla paused for just a moment in front of a secondary exit. She tugged at her shirt, trying to fix it at least a bit. The damp stains on her knees had long since dried, only to leave behind a thin crust of dirt. With a growled sigh, she gave up. She shoved her folded invitation into one of her back pockets, pushed back the thick canvas of the tent flap, and followed after the man who had been ahead of her.
The girl hadn’t been sure what to expect. In all her years, the only evening “parties” she’d been dragged to had consisted of people dressed to the nines and chatter about stocks and other monotony. Even the other kids forced by their parents to attend had been dull.
But the cirque’s afterparty made her think of a Halloween bash rather than a corporate dinner party. Even the canopied space felt more like a large living room with its mismatched seating. Most of the performers still wore the outfits from their acts, setting them apart from the few other audience members already in attendance. The colored lighting made her sigh in relief, the tint eliminating the typical harshness of white lights. She inhaled slowly. The scent of the incense was somehow calming, yet intoxicating. It smelled like an alluring promise. The promise that the night would be as unusual and magical as the show itself.
She couldn’t help but smile at it all. She fidgeted with her camera again. The urge to turn it back on and get a quick picture made her fingers itch.
Realizing she still stood in front of the entrance, she quickly stepped aside. Between the ambient music and incense, she felt the tension in her shoulders slowly release. But it returned quickly when she noticed quite a few eyes had turned to her. Her smile faded.
Maybe she wasn’t so easily mistaken for an adult, after all.
Fearing someone would realize she wasn't supposed to be there and kick her out, goal unaccomplished, she scanned the crowd for the ringmistress. A slight haze hung in the air, the smoke floating lazily about. She stepped a bit further toward the center to get a better view of the space.
“Welcome, my dear.”
Despite the friendly tone, the voice made Arla gasp and spin toward the speaker. Fearing she’d been caught, she readied herself to defend her presence. But the argument died on her lips.
Instead of security or a suspicious performer, Arla found herself staring up at the ringmistress.
For a moment, she could only gawk at the woman. She could tell the ringmistress was tall from seeing her in the ring, but standing before her, the woman had well over a foot on the teen. But as imposing as the woman was, something about her and her tone felt comforting. Welcoming.
It took her a second to register that she’d been asked a question. She couldn’t have hoped for a more perfect opportunity, and she was just staring like a complete idiot.
So much or a good first impression. She cleared her throat, fighting against a scowl at the thought. She shook her head, trying to expel a mental fog that had begun to toy at the edges of her mind.
“It was amazing!” Her smile returned, giddiness rising in her anew at the mere memory of the show. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Using everything her parents had taught her about good business posture, she squared her shoulders, displaying full confidence.
“I’m Lune,” she introduced herself, using the alias she had decided on before leaving home. She released her camera and held her hand out to the ringmistress to shake. She met the woman's brilliant blue gaze. “Lune Smithington. I was actually just looking for you. I wanted to talk to you. If you have the time,” she added almost grudgingly, dreading the idea she could be turned down here and now.

[Rogue Sloth]

As the music played on, Rayth could feel the girl he was dancing with grow more sluggish in her movements. She fell a beat behind him and had a glazed look in her eyes, almost as if she had been hypnotized into a trance. The incense was starting to have an effect on her.
Though the chemicals were getting to him too, Rayth watched her closely, waiting for the right moment to lure her away from the center of the back yard. His opportunity came when he felt her stumble, telling him that she was just inebriated enough to trust him without asking too many questions. He smiled to himself.
“You look tired,” he noted aloud as he led her through a simple turn. “Want to take a break?”
“Yeah,” The girl nodded absently, staggering once more.
“Alright,” Rayth let go of her hands and took a step back from her. Turning toward the lounges off to the side of the yard, he gestured for her to follow him. “This way.”
She complied easily, dragging her feet as she ambled over to a cushioned armchair and collapsed backwards into it. Kicking her feet up on the coffee table in front of her, she let out a slow breath and let her head lean against the backrest. “Did you guys hotbox this place?” she asked thickly, as if she was starting to have a harder time working her tongue. “I feel really weird.”
“It’s just the Nag Champa,” Rayth lied dismissively, settling down in the chair across from her. “That’s the fragrance we burn here. It helps you relax.” Really, he didn’t know what kind of herbs were in the air. It was just the answer he always gave when the invitees asked if they were being drugged without their consent.
It seemed to be enough to sate this girl’s suspicion.
“Kind of a weird choice for a party,” she shook her head in a visible attempt to clear away her grogginess. “I think it’s working a little too well.”
“Just sit back for a bit,” he instructed her calmly. “You’re just not used to it yet. It’ll pass.”
“If you say so,” the girl muttered with a yawn, closing her eyes as she sank tiredly into the plush seat of the armchair.
Rayth eyed her from where he sat, subtly tracing his tongue across the edge of his teeth. She was almost ready. He would give her just a few minutes longer to keep breathing the smoke and then turn her into his dinner.

---

Frieda stood without wavering as the young girl spun on her abruptly. She was used to having such an effect on other people. Despite the stature of the body she donned, she still moved with the silent litheness of a faerie. It wasn’t uncommon for her to even catch some of the other creatures in the circus off guard at times—albeit, usually the ones who were built to hunt by sight rather than scent or sound.
As the girl stared up at her, the ringmistress studied her in return, intrigued by the face attached to the prophesies she had been hearing from the oracles for so long. Her keen eyes were quick to observe the grit and grime that clung to her clothes and hair. A sign, she suspected, that her ancient advisors had been right that she was on her own. For how long and for what reason were still a mystery to the faerie, but the girl was supposed to be alone when she arrived at Cirque du Sombre.
She was pleased to find out it was true. It would make her easier to persuade.
When the girl finally spoke, Frieda listened with no sign of impatience. She cared about little else besides learning more about her. What would be the most enticing bait to convince her to stay? After all, this was what the ringmistress was seeking. The girl was special. She couldn’t let her slip away now that she had her so close. She would do everything in her power to keep her from walking back out of the circus.
The oracles had predicted she would succeed.
“Lune Smithington,” the faerie purred. Finally, a name to a face. She took the girl’s outstretched hand, her slender fingers brushing against more dry dirt. The feeling didn’t perturb her. “I have all the time in the world,” her smile never once left her alabaster features. “Come. We can speak privately over here.”
Knowing Lune would follow her since she seemed to have come to speak with her specifically, Frieda didn’t wait for a reply. She simply gestured with one snow white hand and then led the way as she circled around the outside of the back yard.
Wherever the ringmistress walked, performers scattered away as if they were repelled by an invisible bubble. All of them knew not to get close to their leader during the feeding. It was a silent rule among them that she was to be left in peace until after she’d taken her prey. They didn’t know the faerie had a different purpose for the girl with her now.
Settling on a set of empty chairs that stood across from each other, she gracefully reclined in the seat that faced toward the activity in the rest of the yard. It was a pointed move on her part to prevent Lune from paying attention to what would soon be happening to the rest of the human invitees. If her back was turned to the party, she would be less likely to notice them be preyed upon and therefore less likely to be scared away.
“Tell me,” Frieda indicated the other empty chair, giving the girl the option to sit if she chose. “What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

[Riven Wight]

Arla grimaced when the woman took her hand, only then realizing even they were dirty. But, thankfully, the ringmistress didn’t look fazed. Though, Arla supposed, she was the leader of a circus. She’d probably dealt with much worse.
Arla shivered slightly at the sound of her name on the ringmistress’ lips. Somehow, the woman managed to make even that sound like an exotic stage name. The girl blinked in surprise at the woman’s response to wanting to talk to her.
Once the woman’s back was turned, Arla took quick moment, pumping her fist at her side in triumph. Straightening herself quickly, she hurried after the ringmistress with eager, proud strides. At last, things were going in her favor. The woman had even seemed genuinely interested in what she’d have to say.
She followed the ringmistress along the outskirts of the back yard. Her brows furrowed as she noticed the few people along the ringmistress’ chosen path quickly step aside, giving them space.
Talk about respect! Not that she could blame them with the aura the woman exuded. The woman’s job was one typically heavily sunk in a man’s world, yet she owned it better than any man could dream of. Arla found it rather inspiring. It made her hope that much more she would be accepted into the cirque’s ranks. Even if it meant janitorial duties. Or being a clown. One way or another, she would convince the woman to let her join them.
When she sat in one of a pair of chairs, Arla hesitated. She didn’t like the idea of turning her back to the main entrance to the area. She glanced toward the rest of the activity. It looked like nearly all the circus performers had paired up with someone, some dancing to the hypnotic music, others lounging in the seats. Some people had even started to doze off.
As much as she wanted to, as much as the atmosphere tried to coax her into letting down her guard, she just couldn’t bring herself to completely relax. Not yet. Not until she was further away.
Don’t ruin this. With another breath, she forced herself to turn her back on the activity. She offered the woman an uneasy smile in thanks for the offer to sit. She quickly unshouldered her backpack and took the second seat.
The amount of willpower it took to not sink completely back in the padded seat surprised her. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized exactly how long she’d been on her feet for. Sure, she’d knelt during the show for the sake of better pictures, but that hardly counted.
She placed her backpack between her feet and took another breath, trying again to clear the persistent haze attempting to crowd her mind. She took a moment to regather her thoughts. Hoping she wasn’t allergic to the incense or something, she met the ringmistress’ gaze.
“I want to join your circus,” she started, getting straight to the point. “I don’t have an act to offer… or any actual experience in the circus,” she scowled slightly at the admission, “but I’m a quick learner and hard worker,” she tried to amend firmly. Her words threatened to flow into each other in her rush, not wanting to give the ringmistress the chance to respond until she finished selling herself.
“I could help with teardown and setup, clean up, whatever you’d need. And I’m not afraid of the dirty jobs.” She gestured to herself with a smirk. At least her current state could potentially help her point. “And I’m a good photographer.” She took the camera from around her neck. “I didn’t get the chance to see if you guys have a website—I just saw one of your fliers—but I could help with updated photos for that if you do.” She turned the camera on to its playback mode and increased the brightness of the screen to what she’d found most people preferred. She squinted as the light lit her face, and turned it from herself quickly. “I was even the photographer for my school paper.” She offered the camera to the ringmistress. “I took a lot tonight, if you’d like to see what I can do in that department. But, no matter what, I’ll pull my own weight.”

[Rogue Sloth]

While the girl he’d selected to feed on was battling the effects of the incense, Rayth sank a little further into his chair. He figured he might as well get comfortable. It was already taxing enough to keep his wits about him when the chemicals were coaxing him to let go. He didn’t really feel like bothering to sit up straight anymore on top of that.
As he waited, his red eyes wandered over the rest of the creatures in the back yard. By this point, almost everyone had paired off with a guest. The shade who had been eyeing the same prey as he had was in the middle of a smooth dance with another woman, and Briella was macking it up on the loveseat with the young guy she had pulled aside. It looked like they were all going to be full and satisfied by the end of the night.
Craning his neck a little to peer through the colored smoke, he spotted Frieda on the other side of the yard. She was still with the teenage-looking girl he’d noticed earlier, but she was acting different than usual. He narrowed his eyes as his vision threatened to go blurry from the drugs. From what he could make out, the ringmistress wasn’t biding her time to strike. Instead, it looked like she was just having a conversation with the girl.
Weird, he thought hazily, turning back to the young woman sitting across from him. She had slid haphazardly down in her chair and was now sitting in an awkward position. It didn’t seem to bother her though. A blank smile had formed on her lips, and her head was lolling to the side. She was definitely inebriated enough now.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, knowing full well the answer to his own question. “Any better than before?”
“A lot better,” the girl giggled, grinning at him dumbly. “You know, I really like this stuff. Who’s your dealer? I wanna get some for myself.”
“You don’t need a dealer for incense,” Rayth laughed amusedly. He stood up from his seat, swayed slightly, and stepped over to offer her his hand. “Come on. Let’s have one more dance before you pass out.”
“Okay,” she drawled, dropping her hand clumsily into his.
Carefully, he hauled her out of her chair and led her away from the seating area, wanting to get far enough away that neither of them would trip on any furniture. With nothing left to wait for, it was time for him to fill his empty stomach.

---

This was too good to be true.
Coming into this long-awaited meeting, Frieda had thought she would have to convince Lune to join the ranks of the circus, but instead, the girl was offering her services on a silver platter. She nearly laughed at the irony of it. She supposed she knew now why the oracles had predicted she would succeed in her endeavor. It was because Lune had already made up her mind before the faerie could even say a word.
She leaned forward in her seat with interest as the teen went on to sell herself as if she was in a job interview. It was clear to the ringmistress that she had no idea how special she was. Proposing cleanup and photography. It wasn’t what had attracted Frieda’s attention, but for now, it would have to do.
The faerie watched patiently as Lune set up her camera to show off her previous work. The way the girl squinted against the camera’s light didn’t slip past her keen gaze. Even though the glow wasn’t painfully bright, she appeared uncomfortable looking into it. Frieda studied her discreetly as she accepted the device. Interesting.
Though her mind was already made up as well, she took a moment to look through Lune’s work just to humor her. As she did, she had to admit the images were impressive. The way the girl had captured her performers was artful—masterful, even, beyond her years. They could certainly use her talents in promoting their upcoming tours.
“My dear, you have more to offer than you realize,” the faerie assured her with another inviting smile, handing the camera back. “The circus is a place where anyone, no matter who they are or what they look like, can come to feel safe. Of course, you are welcome to join, and I’m delighted that you want to.”
She sat back in her chair again, though her posture remained straight and authoritative. No questions were asked. She didn’t need to know why Lune had sought out the circus. If that information was important, she would uncover it later. For now, the teen’s eagerness was good enough.
The ringmistress gestured to a nearby faerie masquerading as an acrobat. “Fetch Rayth for me, would you?” she requested when the girl reached her side. “I’d like him to help our new sister get settled in.”
“Yes, mistress,” the faerie girl curtseyed elegantly and wandered off to fulfill her task.
Meanwhile, Frieda turned back to Lune with a pleased expression. “It takes courage to do something like this,” she flattered. “I hope you get everything you’re looking for out of Cirque du Sombre.”

[Riven Wight]

Once the ringmistress looked to the camera, Arla bounced her leg, trying to keep her impatience in check. That the woman’s answer would dictate her future didn’t help.
Her fidgeting paused as a particularly thick cloud of blue-tinted smoke snaked in front of her, giving her a thick lungful of it. The lurking mental fog pulsed and a slight dizziness made her head spin for a second.
She exhaled quickly and scowled. It was the incense, after all.
Abandoning propriety for an attempt at discretion, she adjusted in her seat and brought a knee to her chest. Foot on the chair, she rested her arm atop her knee. Hoping the position came off as contemplative, she did her best to filter the air with a hand over her mouth and nose.
The woman’s voice brought Arla back to the task at hand. Holding her breath, she leaned forward to retrieve her camera. She exhaled when the ringmistress gave the promise of safety in the circus.
Safe. Normally, she would scoff at the concept. There wasn’t any adventure in living safely. And the night was made for just that, adventure. But tonight, ‘safe’ was exactly what she needed.
When the woman finished, Arla sat properly in her seat and stared, slack-jawed.
“Wait… what?” Formality forgotten, she blinked in surprise, the incense playing little part in her confusion. “For real? I’m in? Just like that?” She watched the woman lean back in the chair. A grin spread over her face.
She had come expecting to have to fight to stay. Yet, it took only a few minutes to settle the matter. No questions asked.
She looked over when one of the acrobats came at the ringmistress’ silent command. She blinked when the acrobat addressed the woman as ‘mistress.’ Arla tried to recall whether or not the ringmistress’ name had been announced during the show. If it had, she’d missed it.
Giddiness raced through her when the ringmistress referred to her as their ‘new sister.’ She’d heard that circus performers thought of each other as family, but smirked despite herself at how cultish it sounded.
If her parents could see her now, she was sure they’d both die from a heartattack. Their daughter? In a circus?
She suppressed a laugh at the thought as the ringmistress refocused on her. She returned the woman’s compliment with a prideful shrug.
“Gotta do what you’ve gotta do.” She returned the camera strap around her neck. “So, um… What should I call you? And do I need to sign anything?”

[Rogue Sloth]

Frieda found Lune’s reaction to her immediate acceptance droll. Coincidentally, her own thoughts followed a similar pattern. Just like that, she had attained her prize without the need to coax or coerce the girl into joining. It had been far easier than she had anticipated, and she was pleasantly surprised. All that was left was to assimilate her into the circus. Although, she was unsure if that step would go as smoothly as the first.
It was impossible to prevent Lune from finding out that the performers weren’t human. She had kept their identities a secret for the sake of ensuring the girl wouldn’t be scared away. However, she now had the dual task of convincing her not to leave when she learned the truth and forbidding the other bloodthirsty creatures from touching her—the same as she had done for Rayth when he had joined last year. This teenager seemed bold enough. With any luck, she would find her unique circus exciting instead of intimidating.
That was her hope, at least.
“You can call me Frieda,” she said in answer to the first question. “And yes. I’ll have a written contract for you to sign, but it’s nothing you need to worry about tonight. For now, your only job is to make yourself at home. One of my performers will be here soon to help you do just that.”

---

On the other side of the back yard, Rayth had led the girl he’d been targeting to a clear space, where he could feed on her without interruption.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful skin?” he asked, his gaze fixed hungrily on the crook of her neck. Even though he’d told her that he was bringing her with him to dance, he’d really just wanted to get her back on her feet so she would be easier to bite. Luckily for him, she had become too dazed from the incense to remember why they’d left their seats in the first place.
“Thanks,” she smiled absentmindedly. “Your fangs are cool too… Why do you wear them if you’re supposed to be a reaper though?”
“Because I’m actually a vampire,” Rayth grinned. She wouldn’t remember anything by the next morning, so he didn’t have to pretend anymore.
The girl giggled, “No way. You’re screwing with me.”
“I’m not,” he insisted, reaching up to brush her shoulder-length hair away from her neck. “I can prove it to you if you’d like.”
“Do it,” she challenged with a snicker, tilting her chin up. “I don’t believe you.”
“Alright,” his smile broadened eagerly. “You asked for it.”
With his disoriented prey volunteering her neck, he bared his fangs and leaned in to sink them into her skin. He could feel her shudder and gasp at the pain, but with the drug in her system, she was too inhibited to push him away. It was no trouble at all for him to bleed her as he drank the satisfying liquid.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have long before he was interrupted.
“Rayth,” one of Frieda’s faeries was approaching him. “The mistress has a job for you.”
The half-vampire groaned inwardly. Of all the times Frieda could have given him something to do, why did she have to pick the after party? He didn’t want to give up his meal. It wasn’t fair. Even if he wasn’t a pureblooded monster, he was just as hungry as everyone else. Maybe he could stall.
“I’m busy,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against his victim’s neck. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it later.”
“She wishes to see you now,” the faerie girl frowned. Like the rest of the ringmistress’s minions, she was very one-track-minded. “She asked me to fetch you.”
“Give me a minute,” Rayth pressed hotly. “I’m almost done.”
“Fine,” the faerie crossed her arms. “One minute.”
He rolled his eyes as he turned his attention back to the girl he was draining. He could feel her growing unsteady in his arms from blood loss, and he braced himself as her weight eventually fell into him when she passed out.
Finished feeding, he withdrew his fangs from her neck and licked his lips, capturing a few scarlet droplets that hadn’t made it into his mouth. With a full stomach, he felt much better than before.
Carefully, he set the unconscious girl down on the ground and then stood up straight again to face the faerie. “So, what does she want?” he asked, following her across the yard to where Frieda was still seated with that punk-rock girl he’d spotted before. Absently, he found it strange that the two were still conversing. Maybe the incense was hitting her more slowly than the other humans.
“The mistress will tell you when we get there,” the faerie replied vaguely.
Rayth scoffed at that but didn’t pester her about it. He had a feeling she was enjoying making him wait, so she wouldn’t tell him even if he complained. He would just ask Frieda when they reached her.
The ringmistress caught sight of him while he was still a few yards away. Her usual charismatic smile appeared on her lips as she gazed at him, and he got a warm, fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Even though he’d been traveling with the circus for a little over a year now, her magic still affected him just as much as it had on day one. It was difficult for him not to let his guard down around her when she was always so inviting. Not that he wanted to anyway. She was mysterious, but she was also caring. He genuinely enjoyed her company.
“Lune, this is Rayth,” Frieda announced, standing up from her chair as he fell in place beside her. Though he was of average height for a fully grown male, she made him look like a child next to her impressive six-and-a-half-foot frame.
Rayth casted a brief glance at her before turning toward the girl across from him, curious to see who had captivated the ringmistress so thoroughly that she would have foregone feeding.
Up close, he could see that his guess about her age had been pretty spot on. She looked no older than he did—although he was certainly much older than her, since he had stopped aging in the 1930s. Her clothes were tattered as well, making him wonder where she had come from. They were in the middle of Los Angeles, so most of the people who had come to see the circus were on the wealthier end of the spectrum. There were plenty of homeless people too, of course, but none of them could afford to buy a ticket.
This girl definitely gave off the vibes of the latter though.
He studied her face a little more closely. After living for so long, he’d gotten talented at reading other people’s features. There was a depth to her eyes that he thought was unusual for a teenager. Most girls her age were more carefree, but she seemed like she’d already seen some hardship.
“Rayth, Lune is the newest member of Cirque du Sombre,” Frieda continued. “I’d like you to help her get settled in before we make the jump to the next city.”
Newest member? He raised his brows with intrigue. He’d thought the girl was just another towner that the ringmistress had invited to their party, but apparently there was more to her than met the eye. After all, the faerie only accepted supernatural creatures into her odd collection of circus freaks. She must have been another monster seeking sanctuary from hunters.
He couldn’t tell what she was by looking at her though.
“Sure,” he offered Lune a smile, eager to make her feel welcomed. Before her, he had been the last one to join Cirque du Sombre, so he still remembered how difficult it had been for him to adjust—Granted, most of the other members had decided they didn’t like him right away because of his human blood. He didn’t want her to go through the same awkward transition that he had.
He was also giddy to meet someone who might not look at him with the same disgust as everyone else.
“We keep all our personal stuff on the train,” he went on, trying not to gush from his excitement. “I’ll take you to the rail yard.”

[Riven Wight]

Arla nodded and smiled her thanks to Frieda. She let out a slow, steady exhale. With her goal accomplished, she finally let herself relax. She wouldn’t be leaving. Even if those… things were still after her, she’d be hidden amidst a crowd. And hopefully, even if they did get close, the smells of this place would put their senses on overload. They’d never be capable of telling she’d actually left with the circus.
She looked to her lap, a faint smile on her lips at her victory. A victory against both them and her parents. She ran her hands through her hair, knocking loose some dust and bits of rubble she’d missed before.
She scowled. Next order of business: find a shower.
She looked back up to the ringmistress, trying to think of something to say to fill the short silence, to express her gratitude. But Frieda’s gaze had shifted behind her. Panic threatened at her chest for a split second before the woman smiled. Though the expression wasn’t aimed at her, Arla still felt a sense of reassuring calm from it.
Frieda was commanding, yes, but something about her seemed unusually kind. She had, after all, welcomed a girl who probably looked more like a hobo than anything. She’d offered sanctuary without even asking why Arla needed it.
Before she could turn to see who had grabbed the woman’s attention, a teenage boy stepped in front of her.
She blinked as she recognized the boy Frieda had summoned. The knife thrower. And possibly one of the only people in the acts who had looked even remotely around her age.
“The Reaper,” she confirmed at the ringmistress’ introduction. A grin pulled at her lips at the concept of him being her guide for the night. Taking Frieda’s lead, Arla got to her feet. She swayed slightly, her mind a half step behind her actions, but managed to keep her balance.
Geeze, allergies suck.
Taking the opportunity at being closer to him than she had been as an audience member, she looked Rayth over. Like the others in the afterparty, he hadn’t changed out of his performance outfit. If you could really call black pants a full-on outfit. Her gaze traced the lines of the tribal tattoo covering half of his bare, tan torso, wondering if it was real or temporary. He even still wore his contacts. His red eyes caught in the lighting, their vibrancy distorted by the colored lights.
Despite his youth, something about him felt… older. Whether it was how he held himself or something in his gaze, she couldn’t say, but the aura about him hinted that he had seen and experienced more than what his appearance let on.
She glanced to Frieda when the woman introduced her. “Hey,” Arla offered Rayth with a quick, two-fingered wave, realizing the boy had been looking her over as she had him.
She shrugged at Rayth’s raised eyebrows, then returned his smile in kind. At least he seemed more than happy to help her out, as the ringmistress had.
Her expression widened at the excitement betrayed in his voice. It was rather contagious.
“Train? Like an actual railroad train?” Her face lit up at the thought. She’d only ever ridden a train once, in grade school. Sadly, she could barely remember it. The memory hung on in little more than disjointed images blurred from time.
“I didn’t know circuses still used trains,” she finished as she bent to pick up her backpack. “Lead the way!” She shouldered her bag, eager to get away from the incense, and hopefully find a shower.
At this point, she’d be content with just a hose as long as it spouted water.

[Rogue Sloth]

When Lune returned his excitement in kind, Rayth could already tell he was going to like her. The rest of the circus members spent so much time frowning, it was a wonder their faces didn’t stick that way. Or maybe they had. There were some monsters here that he was sure he had never seen smile since the day he’d arrived. Even Oscar, the one person he got along with, rarely brightened unless he was trying to hit on a girl or was laughing at a prank he’d pulled on someone else.
Compared to that, Lune’s immediate enthusiasm was a breath of fresh air.
“I don’t know about any other circuses, but ours does,” he shrugged when she said she didn’t know they still used trains. “They’re not like they used to be though. These ones are a lot nicer, like the sleeper cars in an AmTrak.”
He glanced away from her as he spoke, noticing that Frieda was already walking off toward the other performers, silently leaving them alone. He found it a little strange that she had put him in charge of showing Lune around. When he’d joined last year, she had put him in the care of one of her faerie workers. He couldn’t help but wonder why she thought he was better equipped to get the new girl settled in than one of her own.
Rayth snapped back to attention when Lune told him to lead the way. “Alright,” he grinned, waving a hand for her to follow him. “It’s just behind the fence over here. Come on.”
Turning away from her, he followed the border along the outside of the back yard. It still didn’t make sense to him why Frieda had given him this job, but he wasn’t going to complain. Helping the new girl settle in meant he could get away from the intoxicating chemicals in the air, and he wouldn’t have to help the others tear everything down once the after party was over. He’d have a clear head and get to early turn in for the night. It was a win-win.
As he walked, Rayth looked at Lune sideways, his thoughts drifting to his other unanswered question. He still couldn’t tell what she was from just her appearance. Even her smell didn’t tip him off. After traveling with the circus for so long, he’d become familiar with the individual scents of all the other creatures in the troupe, but she wasn’t like any of the ones he’d met so far. More so than anything, she just seemed like a normal human to him. Human and something else he couldn’t peg down.
Maybe it’s a disguise? He’d never heard of any monster that could mask its scent, but then again, the supernatural world was full of strange creatures. It wouldn’t have surprised him if she was something he’d never even heard of before.
Whatever the case, it couldn’t hurt to ask.
“So, what are you?” he queried, giving in to his curiosity. He had to know who and what had captured the ringmistress’s attention so thoroughly that she would skip a meal. The mystery was too enticing to leave unanswered.

[Riven Wight]

She returned the strap of her camera around her neck. Tucking one thumb in a pocket of her jeans, and the other beneath one of her backpack’s straps, Arla eagerly moved to follow after Rayth. She paused, remembering the ringmistress. Not wanting to come off as rude on a first meeting, she turned to say a quick farewell, but the woman had gone.
She’s more ninja than a cat. With an inward shrug at the now empty seat, she took a couple hurried steps to catch up with Rayth.
She looked to the fence they walked near. She hadn’t realized there were train tracks so close by. But that would explain how she had found such a quiet area to sneak in at.
Creating a back wall to the black canopy, colored lights draped from even the fence. She scanned it, and her eyes settled on a back exit. She picked out the outline of a gate, a latch for a padlock on one side its largest giveaway.
Figuring that was where they were headed, Arla tried to pick up the pace. She frowned and slowed again quickly when the extra speed triggered another bout of wooziness. She wobbled, but managed to maintain her balance. Though she knew it wouldn’t do any good, she swatted irritably at some of the tinted smoke as it floated in front of her face, holding her breath.
Rayth’s question brought her attention away from the smoke.
She looked to him, confused, her brows raised at the strange question. She eyed him for a moment, before misunderstood realization dawned on her.
“Well. Frieda didn’t assign anything to me yet. And I didn’t come with an act up my sleeve—pun not intended. So, I suppose I’m the resident photographer for now.” She tapped the camera at her chest.
Part of her still couldn't quite believe she was actually apart of a circus now. Or would be, officially, once she signed what she needed to.
“Even got a shot of your ‘volunteer.’” She smirked at the memory. “The look on his face was priceless!”

[Rogue Sloth]

At first, Rayth wasn’t sure what Lune was talking about when she answered him. He hadn’t asked her about any assignment. However, when she said she was the photographer, he realized she had taken his question to mean, ‘what was she in the circus.’ He didn’t know what to do with that.
For a moment, he considered reframing the inquiry to make it more clear, but he wasn’t sure if she had just misunderstood him or if she was dodging him intentionally. He didn’t want to pester her if she didn’t want to tell him what sort of creature she was. Maybe she thought the question was rude. She had been nice enough to him so far. The last thing he wanted to do was turn her against him like everyone else by intruding on her privacy, so he decided to let the subject drop for now.
“It’s my favorite part of the act,” Rayth laughed when Lune mentioned the volunteer he’d pulled during the show. “They always get so scared, even though I show them my accuracy before I ask someone to be my assistant.”
The only reason he could even get away with bringing a real audience member into the ring was because of the faeries. If it wasn’t for their relaxing magic in the big top, he was sure no human would be willing to let him strap them to an oversized wheel and throw sharp knives at their head. Their fright had to be numbed just enough that they wouldn’t be overwhelmed by it, so they wouldn’t scream or run away.
In a way, it was like the laced incense in the back yard.
He let out a slow exhale. Even after he took Lune to the train, it was going to take some time for the effects of the chemicals to pass out of his system. He was just glad his body had a little more of a tolerance to the stuff now than it did when he’d first breathed it in.
During his first week in the circus, he couldn’t even walk in a straight line when the incense sticks were burning, and it had been difficult to hold a conversation with anyone because the drug had affected his short term memory when he’d inhaled it for too long.
The other members of the circus had teased that he should have stayed behind with the other humans if he couldn’t handle it like a real supernatural. As always, they had no compassion for someone who was only a “half-breed.”
He fought the urge to roll his eyes at the memory.
“What brought you to the circus?” he asked, trying a different approach to get to know her. He wasn’t sure if she would tell him, since she hadn’t answered his first question, but he figured it was worth a shot anyway.

[Riven Wight]

Arla glanced to Rayth at the mirth in his response to the volunteer, a smirk on her lips. The expression wavered and she inhaled as she caught the tail end of his laugh. In that split second, she was positive she had seen fangs.
She paid closer attention as he continued. Though not as easy to spot with normal talk, he did, indeed, have elongated canines. Her hearts sped up for a couple beats and she took a small step away before she remembered where she was. The afterparty really was more like a Halloween party.
She exhaled and shook her head. She had the supernatural too heavily on the brain. She opened her mouth to compliment him on the combination of creatures for his act, but he spoke first.
She scowled at his question. One of the questions she’d expected the ringmistress to ask her… or a form of it, at least. She ran her tongue over her teeth, debating on whether or not she really needed to stick the lie she had originally intended on telling.
Deciding there was probably little harm in being more truthful, she shrugged stiffly. “Ye ol’ tale of controlling parents. They wanted to keep me in a tiny box ruled by their dictatorship. It was either stay there and die slowly, or leave and make my own adventure.”
Not exactly the truth, but ‘I ended up being hunted by bloodthirsty monsters while running away from home, and happened on a flier for your circus on the way,’ didn’t strike her as the best answer.
She swallowed at the thought. She took a deep breath and tried to shove her worry back to the far recesses of her mind.
“So.” She waved her hand and glanced upward, gesturing to the canopy above her. “Here I am.”
The quick motion of her head irked the lurking mental fog. The strange, faraway sensation of being in a dream made the world again swim in front of her. She tripped over her own feet on her next step. Instinctively, she reached out for Rayth’s arm to steady herself.
Scowling, Arla grit her teeth. “Sorry,” she muttered sourly, releasing him. “I…” She hesitated, not sure if admitting she thought she was allergic to the smoke was such a good idea. Not on a first day, at least. “I’m apparently not used to your guys’ incense. Never been around the stuff before.”
She set her gaze firmly on the fence gate, hoping that would help keep her grounded. She contemplated returning his question, but decided against it. She didn’t know much about circus etiquette, but didn’t want to risk prying where a newbie shouldn’t. Potentially getting on someone’s bad side could wait for day two.
“You probably get this often, but that’s a unique combination for your act,” she went with instead, offering a smile. “A vampire called the Reaper. Well. I’m assuming vampire. With the contacts and fangs. Right?”

[Rogue Sloth]

Rayth shrank a bit when Lune scowled at his question. Apparently she didn’t want to share anything about herself with him. He hoped he hadn’t crossed a line. He hadn’t meant to make her mad when he’d asked why she had joined. Honestly, he’d just assumed she would give him the same spiel everyone else did: that she was looking for the circus’s protection or on the run from hunters. It was why he and most of the other members had sought Frieda out when they’d found it, after all.
Not wanting to get snapped at for being rude, he opened his mouth to change the subject but didn’t get the chance before Lune surprised him with an answer. Her explanation didn’t clear anything up either. The way she talked about “controlling parents” reminded him of the runaway kids he’d heard about who would join the circus to escape their lives. It definitely wasn’t what he’d expected to hear anyone say about a group like Cirque du Sombre.
He studied her a little more closely, red flags raising in the back of his mind. Something was off. Lune didn’t speak or act like any other creature he’d met before. He was starting to wonder if she was even a monster at all. If she was, she had to have been hiding it, but he couldn’t fathom a reason why she would want to do that.
He didn’t have time to chew on the thought when the girl suddenly stumbled, latching onto his arm for stability. “Whoa,” he caught hold of her wrist with his opposite hand, steadying her like a rider might do with a horse. It was a stupid gesture, he knew, but he hadn’t been expecting her to lose her balance like that. If he didn’t know better, he might have thought she was feeling the effects of the incense even more than he was.
She’s feeling the incense. His eyes widened as the realization struck him. Now he was certain of it. Lune was human—at least partially. She had to be if the drugs in the air were affecting her. He had so many new questions: Why had Frieda allowed her to join? Was she a half-blood like he was? Did she even know what she was walking into? He had to bite his tongue to keep from spilling everything on his mind at once.
“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her as she stepped away from him. “It takes time to get used to.”
Thinking over everything she had said to him so far, he was starting to get the impression that she was just a normal girl who’d run away from home. She probably had no idea that supernatural creatures even existed. He glanced over his shoulder nearly pleadingly, hoping Frieda was still around. The ringmistress had to know she’d just accepted a human into their ranks… didn’t she? He wasn’t sure how to handle this.
As Lune complimented his “costume,” Rayth could only gawk at her. He didn’t know what to say. Part of him was tempted to play along and pretend the vampire bit was part of his act to preserve her innocence, but what was the point? It was only a matter of time before she learned the truth about the circus members. She might as well find out before she was surrounded by monsters of every shape and size.
He took a steeling breath.
“Um, well, you guessed right,” he started slowly. “But only in half.” She was going to run away when he told her the truth. He just knew it. Still, she deserved to know what she was getting herself into. If she decided it was too much to handle, it wasn’t his job to change her mind.
He met her gaze with a resigned shrug, “Let’s just say when the Reaper costume comes off, the ‘contacts and fangs’ stay on.”

[Riven Wight]

Arla’s brows rose at Rayth’s expressive reaction to her question. She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her, or genuinely surprised. Either way, she hadn’t thought it was that stupid or shocking of a guess. She tilted his head as he took a deep breath, deciding he was being genuine. That, or one good actor.
Rayth’s tone made her steps hesitate as the boy answered her. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, trying to figure out what else it could be. Then, he met her gaze. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.
She stopped at the completion of his answer. That only one of those two was an act.
For a moment, she wasn’t sure she heard him right. Or he was trying to freak her out, to keep with the show. Rather, she hoped he was messing with her.
“You can’t seriously be implying…” But the sincerity in his eyes cut the words short. Whether his gaze or something else, she was certain he wasn’t lying. Somehow, it made perfect sense.
Her muscles tensed and heart quickened. A mix of exasperation and the alert fear of recognition hardened her emerald gaze. There was apparently no escaping the supernatural.
She moved one hand to her side, thankful she had forgotten to hide the hunting knife at her belt before entering the circus. Her fingers twitched toward it, brushing the hilt, but she hesitated. Unlike the last thing she’d used it on, chances were, Rayth could disarm her in a blink. And he knew his way around a blade far better than she did.
Yet, his tone and the way he held himself made him look more… subdued. It hadn’t been a threat. Simply a statement of fact, as if a vampire being in a circus was a simple part of another typical day. Her fear gave way an inch, making her brow furrow in confused curiosity. He was shockingly ready to tell her he wasn’t human—even if indirectly.
She tried to take a couple breaths to steady herself and her panicking thoughts. He didn’t feel like an immediate danger to her. Her first impression of him even struck her as someone she would look forward to getting to know.
But that didn’t change that he wasn’t human. And the only reason she could think of for him to be so quick to tell her what he was, was he didn’t expect her to live to see the next morning to start trouble for him over it.
She took a couple steps away from him and swallowed, her gaze shifting toward the lawn, but still keeping Rayth’s legs in sight.
She shook her head subtly in disbelief at her foul luck. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think she was somehow attracting these things now.
“I’m not doing this again,” she breathed, her jaw tight. Her fingers tensed around her knife’s handle, trying to hide their trembling.
As confident in her running abilities as she was, at the moment, she was lucky to be capable of walking. But unlike before, she knew the way out. And here, she wasn’t alone. If he tried to follow her out, all she had to do was make a scene, to shout loud enough to gain the attention of the partygoers. As strong as lore made vampires out to be, he’d be vastly outnumbered here. Or so she hoped.
She raised her gaze back to his face, hard determination mingling with the fear in her eyes. Despite the sinking certainty he could overpower her before she could even think to draw it, she still kept her hold on the knife, ready to pull it out if he so much as twitched in a way she didn’t like. It wasn’t much, but it was all she had.
She edged slowly toward the gate, careful to keep some distance between them. She kept her gaze fixed on Rayth, using his stable sight as a new anchor to hopefully keep the fog in her mind at bay.
“I’ve already dealt with two of your murderous pals,” she hissed, trying to sound menacing while struggling to keep a slight tremor from her voice. She reached a hand out to the gate, using her peripherals to find the latch. “If you don’t want to make that tally three,” she lifted the latch, glad when it came free easily, “I suggest you don’t come after me.”
Without giving him the time to respond, she opened the gate and slipped out of the backyard. Heart pounding in her throat, she pulled it shut behind her. She stepped backward away from the gate, not daring to take her eyes off it yet. If an enraged vampire was going to come after her, she’d rather know.
She hissed when she again stumbled over her own feet on the more earthy, uneven ground outside the fenced fairgrounds. This time, she managed to stay on her feet without aid.
And the gate remained closed.
Reluctantly, she took her eyes from it long enough to scan the new surroundings of the railroad. More of a private affair, a train sat on a set of tracks a few yards from fence. A logo akin to the one on the black invitation stood out on the sides of a few of the cars.
With a last, backward glance to the gate, she hurried toward the train. She took it slower than she would have liked, not comfortable with trying to run with her head still filled with the wisps of fog from her incense allergy. Worried the quick motion of glancing behind her would make her lose her balance, she kept her gaze ahead.
She carefully made it to the opposite side of the car, out of direct sight from anyone who may come through the gate. Taking a deep, shaky breath of the warm, evening air, she leaned her back heavily against the train car. The scent of the incense lingered in her nostrils and on her clothes, mingling with the smells of metal, oil, and residue of carnival confections.
Arla scanned the area behind the train and fairground, searching for pursuers—be it Rayth, or somehow the warehouse-duo seeking vengeance. Only empty field and another set of unoccupied train tracks greeted her.
She let out a heavy exhale. She pushed from the train car and crouched near the car’s front. She peered around it between the space between the connected cars, absently watching the gate. To steady herself, she placed one hand on the metal of the train car above her.
A small voice at the back of her mind urged her to stop and think things through. So far, she’d taken things as they came, one improvisation after another. Having dozed off during the day on the bus ride to L.A., she hadn’t fully stopped to consider a practical plan B if the circus didn’t work out.
Her hand clenched into a fist and she huffed out a breath toward the ground. The circus had been her best hope of escaping both the tedium of her home life, and the supernaturals possibly still tracking her. But even it apparently had a monster problem. A problem she doubted any of them knew they had.
She cast another glance around her, then closed her eyes. She took a few slow, deep breaths, trying to slow her heart rate and calm her raging, crowded mind. She concentrated on the feel of the darkness around her, on the soft, cool shadow of the train car draped over her.
Though she never could figure out why, once the sun set, the darkness felt more like a comforting friend than a conniving foe. It silently spurred her on, promising to aid her where it could in whatever escapades she took on. Focusing on that sensation, she felt the tension and alarm from running into another supernatural monster ease up. Though not by much, it was enough for her to subtract it as a mental obstacle. Even the haze of the incense lifted a fraction.
She opened her eyes and looked back to the gate. A handful of blinding lights still shone about the fairgrounds, making her squint slightly as she looked above it.
She shifted her weight as her conscience nagged at her. Frieda had been kind to her, offering her sanctuary, and in return, Arla had fled, leaving the ringmistress to deal with the monster hiding in plain sight on her own. There was no telling what damage he could do before someone realized he wasn’t human. If they even realized it.
Though she’d only spent a few minutes with the ringmistress, she couldn’t bring herself to just leave the woman and her troop. With a frustrated growl, she ran her tongue over her teeth in contemplation.
She needed a plan. Because unlike her last encounter, there was more than her own life at stake. She had to find some way to get him out of there, away from where he could hurt someone… and preferably without getting herself killed in the process.
She scowled. Planning was never her strong suit as soon as the change the night brought with it settled in.
Her fingers moved to tap against her knife’s handle. There had to be something she could do. But the question was, what?

[Rogue Sloth]

Rayth could practically see the wheels turning inside Lune’s head while she processed what he’d said to her. He stopped with her as she ceased walking, keeping his mouth shut so he wouldn’t interrupt her thoughts. It was hard to tell where her head was at. She hadn’t burst into laughter, so she was at least taking him seriously. However, she hadn’t run away screaming either, so he couldn’t tell if she believed him or not.
At the start of her challenge, he prepared himself to insist that he was implying what she thought and that he wasn’t just trying to haze her or anything. It turned out he didn’t need to though as she seemed to make the connection on her own.
At that point, he expected her to either question him or bolt, but instead, he tensed instinctively as her hand flew to her belt, where a large knife hung against her hip. Apparently when it came to fight or flight, she was a fan of the former.
He watched her carefully, wondering if she was actually stupid enough to wield a blade against a guy who manipulated swords and knives for a living and had just confessed that he wasn’t even human. If she was, all he needed was half a second to remind her who she was up against. Compared to the monster hunters he had faced before, disarming one untrained teenager would be child’s play.
Fortunately—for her—fright seemed to give way to reason, and he relaxed again as the processing continued. He was starting to think he understood why Frieda had asked him to welcome her into the circus. Having spent a large portion of his life living among humans, he was more patient than the pureblooded creatures would have been with her. The confusion on her face was familiar to him. He’d already seen it in the eyes of the other people whom he’d told about his supernatural half in the past. All she needed was a little time to absorb it and—
Nope, that was wrong.
Rayth blinked as Lune suddenly backed away from him, keeping him in her sight as if she expected him to suddenly turn on her. Her caution was unnecessary. He had just fed on another human during the after party, so his appetite for blood had already been sated. Besides that, Frieda had said she was the newest member of the circus. That meant she was off limits, even if he wanted to bite her. She was perfectly safe in his company right now.
He was about to explain this to her, but she spoke first.
Again? he mused, bewildered. What did she mean by “again”? Had she run into another vampire before? He suddenly found himself curious to find out what she was talking about. His kind were solitary creatures of the night, so he hadn’t met very many others.
Absently, he wondered if the girl had been bitten before. If she had, it would make it harder for him to convince her that he wasn’t going to hurt her.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to ask her about it when she began inching toward the gate. His eyes flicked down to her hand as she gripped her knife, but it looked like she still had enough sense not to draw it. Regardless, the gesture told him that she had no intention of relaxing around him; and if she couldn’t handle learning that he wasn’t human, there was no way she could keep a level head if she found out about the rest of the troupe. Cirque du Sombre was too much for her after all.
At her following words, he only grew more confused. Two? He’d never heard of any vampires traveling in groups. Even families only stayed together long enough for parents to raise their children to maturity. He was the only one in the circus too. They just weren’t very good at sharing territory or prey, so it was better for them to keep their distance.
Despite Lune’s threats, Rayth had no intention of going after her. Instead, he remained where he was as she fled the back yard, reminding himself that it wasn’t his job to make her stay if she couldn’t handle it. Why Frieda had thought she would make a good addition to the troupe was beyond him. She was obviously just a human who had mistaken their group for a normal traveling circus that would help runaway teens like herself. She didn’t belong in a community full of monsters.
“Got a runner, huh?”
Rayth blinked at the sound of a gruff voice behind him and turned around to see Oscar waddling over from the party. The brownie looked bloated, but he knew his friend had just stuffed his clothes with wallets, keys, jewelry and whatever else he could loot from the drugged humans’ bodies.
“You didn’t even try to stop her,” the small man went on, scrunching his face as he eyed the open gate. “Why’d you bring her close to an exit anyway? You’re supposed to corner your prey. It’s hunting 101. Pretty sloppy, Rayth.”
“She wasn’t my prey,” Rayth rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms and leaned his weight into the brownie’s side just enough to make him stumble. “And since when did you get the authority to lecture me on hunting? You’re just a thief who scurries around to loot the bodies after we’ve made it easy for you to pickpocket them.”
“I prefer my food cooked and served on a plate,” Oscar huffed, bending over to pick up a gold watch that had fallen out of his lumpy shirt when he’d lost his balance. “Excuse me for having a more refined taste than you bloodthirsty savages.”
“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Rayth grinned at him teasingly.
Oscar snorted, “Alright, Fangs. I think I’ll stick to meals I can actually process.” He paused, glancing at the gate again. “Anyway, if that human girl wasn’t your prey, what were you doing with her?”
“Frieda invited her to join the circus.”
“What?” Oscar’s caterpillar eyebrows jumped. “So she’s not a human?”
“No, she is,” Rayth frowned. “At least, I think she is. She smelled mostly like a human.”
“Mostly?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “There are a lot of different scents in the yard right now, and the incense is messing with my head, so it’s hard to tell. I could have just caught a whiff of something else and thought it was coming from her.”
“Okay,” Oscar mused. “So if she’s a human, why would Frieda want her to come with us?”
“Beats me,” Rayth sighed. “Either way, she’s gone now. I mentioned that I’m not a human, and it freaked her out, so she bolted.”
“She’d be crazy not to,” the brownie scoffed. “It’s too bad though. She was just my type.”
“Every girl is your type.”
“That’s because they’re all beautiful.”
“And it’s hard to have standards when you’re only three feet tall, right?” Rayth added with a smirk.
“That was uncalled for,” Oscar muttered, shooting him an indignant glare. “Besides, you’re one to talk, tall guy. If you think you’re so much better than me, why did she run away from you?”
“When did this turn into a competition?” Rayth laughed.
“When you claimed you were better than me.”
“You’re ridiculous,” the half-vampire shook his head, stepping over to make sure the latch on the gate had locked. Now that Lune was gone, he didn’t want any other invitees to notice the exit and try to flee as well. One human on the loose who knew about them was bad enough, but as long as there weren’t multiple witnesses, she would probably be written off as a lunatic if she tried to tell anyone else the truth about Cirque du Sombre. The only people who might believe her were the hunters, but he suspected they knew about the circus already. They just hadn’t attacked so far because of the sheer number of supernatural creatures in the troupe.
“Well, I guess I should tell Frieda the news,” he exhaled, not looking forward to admitting to the ringmistress that he’d lost their newest member in less than ten minutes. Even if the girl had been human, the faerie had obviously seen some sort of value in her since she had offered her a spot. “She’s not going to be happy about this…”

[Riven Wight]

Arla took another deep breath. On the up side, the gate hadn’t opened that she’d noticed. It seemed Rayth had at least taken her threats to heart. Or, at the very least, hadn’t deemed her worth coming after.
Unless he’s taking a less direct rout. The thought crept into her mind. She looked behind her again, half expecting to come face-to-face with the red-eyed boy. But, of course, only empty field met her.
Legs itching for action, she stood and moved to step back around the train cars toward the fence. But the motion made it feel like someone had tilted the ground under her feet. Scowling, she put a hand on the metal of the car to steady herself.
Whatever she did, she’d have to wait for that to wear off first.
Keeping one hand on the car as much as possible, she moved around to the side of the train facing the fairgrounds. She took deep, slow breaths, hoping the clear air would help chase out the effects of the smoke.
She walked along the train, trying to get a feel for the size of the fairground. Further ahead, she could make out where the fence turned at a corner of the grounds. Its wood turned into mesh fencing to keep intruders off the train tracks, marking where one area ended and the other continued.
She turned to head back toward where she’d started. With the way she’d acted, she suspected getting Rayth away from the others now would be difficult, especially if he had stayed at the afterparty. If she couldn’t get him out, then somehow, she needed to get a message to the ringmistress. She had to warn her that…
Arla paused and ran a hand down her face with a soft groan. Warn her of what?
She doubted telling the woman that she had a vampire in her circus would do anything besides have Arla dubbed as certifiable. As quick as she’d come to accept it, she knew how difficult it would be for anyone else to swallow.
Maybe, if she diluted the truth just enough, leaving out the vampire bit, she would have a chance of getting through to Frieda. But then, if they were really all like family, all it could take was a single appalled denial from Rayth to overrule her accusation. She had, after all, just shown up out of nowhere, while Rayth had had his place among them established for who knows how long.
But she had to at least try to warn Frieda, even if she wouldn’t take her word for it. Which meant she’d need another way back in. That, and a way to get the woman alone without going back to the afterparty.
She glanced up to the tent tops rising well above the fence. The Big Top was an option. Perhaps she could find a worker somewhere around there willing to request Frieda’s presence for her.
All the thinking was starting to make her head ache. Though, she supposed, it could just be an aftereffect of the incense. Hopefully from her reaction to it starting to wear off.
She passed the gate she’d come through. All she had to do was find another entrance. Another gate fairly close to the Big Top would be nice, but she supposed if she absolutely had to, she knew a spot where she could make it over the top.