Freakshow (36 page)

I held his hand until the artist was finished. He cleaned up the area, walked Cairo to a full length mirror and we all stood admiring it.

The artist walked back to the chair to clean up and get ready for mine when Cairo’s phone buzzed again.

This time he picked it up, scanned the texts, and froze. His body became taut, like a bow about to release an arrow. My heart hastened in my chest at his reaction.

“What’s it say?” I asked, placing my hand on his arm. “Cai?” I prodded when he didn’t respond.

He cleared his throat and turned to me, his face stricken and his eyes searching mine for answers.

“It’s Paris,” he said in a low rasp.

“Your sister? What’s wrong?”

“She’s...she’s missing,” he replied slowly and I felt the air leave the room, I couldn’t breathe.

*****

T
he drive back to Portland was tense and fast. There was no light hearted conversation or long lunch breaks, no public sex and no laughter.

Cairo had paid for his tattoo, we’d gone back to the hotel and packed our things. I’d left another message for Detective Smythe and like that, our little escape was over.

Terror, anxiety, those were the themes of the hours it took to get back to Cirque. I kept my hand on Cairo’s thigh, steadying him as he drove, calming him the only way I knew how, through the comfort of my touch.

The rest was a blur, clumsily trying to navigate the new landscape of Cairo’s terror. It seemed an impossible task, but one I gladly took on. I had to, he was my everything, and by extension so was his family.

We pulled into Cirque’s back parking lot by dark, it felt empty, like the place had been abandoned in the short time we’d been gone.

“I wish Mila were still here,” I said as we walked hand in hand across the grounds.

“I don’t think she could tell us much more than anyone else,” Cai said despondently.

“She seems like she’d know what to do. What do we do, Cai? Where do we start?”

“We start with Milan. She’s the one who texted me and she’s the one who arranged the search party,” he said, the air around him thick with worry.

We found them in the cafeteria, Milan was talking to everyone who had been out looking for the day.

“Cairo!” she exclaimed and ran to him. He folded his arms around her and she began to weep as he held her.

“What can we do?” I asked, needing direction, needing to do something.

“There’s not much,” Milan said, pulling away from Cai, sniffling and stemming the tide of tears. “The police have been called out, Detective Smythe from Seattle is here. He apparently got a tip about a couple of our members and has been interviewing employees.

“When did Paris go missing?” I asked. “Before or after Smythe got here?”

“Before,” she replied, “she didn’t come home last night and Smythe was here this morning. Why?”

“Just thinking out loud,” I said and gave her a small smile. I’d been worried that we had somehow triggered Paris’ abduction by alerting Smythe to the shit that was going on with Alexi and Carl.

“Is After Dark going on tonight?” I asked, thinking about the horror I’d felt the last time we’d been there and the strange things I’d seen going on behind the scenes. I felt so foolish, I’d always thought of myself as tough as nails and suspicious of everyone, but coming to the Cirque had dulled my sixth sense for some reason.

It made me feel vulnerable and suspect everybody, except Cairo of course. But all of them, especially Alexi, Carl and Orion, were suspects for Paris’s abduction. Could Orion harm his own daughter though? Was he that deranged?

Milan shook her head and Cairo said, “We had the tent taken down, I gave the order just before we left.”

We stood in silence for a few seconds, the helplessness of the situation threatening to pull us under if we didn’t act.

“Okay, let’s spread out and search the grounds again,” Milan said, stepping back and addressing the small search party in attendance. “We’ll start at the ticket booths and check every nook and cranny. Staff housing has already been fully examined by the police, but they don’t know this place like we do. If there’s a hidden room or back space, we know about it. Let’s find my sister!”

The small crowd let out an enthusiastic sound of agreement, the energy was rejuvenated and we all felt as if we would find her safe and sound.

We had to.

W
e were exhausted by the time we found our way back to the cafeteria. The bliss of our brief vacation was completely erased by the strain we carried now. I fell into Cairo’s arms, let him hold me as I pressed my head against his chest, listening for his heartbeat as if to reassure myself that he was alive, he was here.

Everything in Cirque felt so tenuous, the power Orion had over everyone was being shifted to me, but even in that, it felt fleeting at best. Cairo was my only sure thing, my rock, the safe harbour in this crazy ocean of distress.

“Any luck?” Milan asked as she entered the tent behind us. Cairo shook his head and she hunched over, defeated.

“I don’t know what to do,” Milan said, her eyes haunted by the loss of her sister. I hadn’t thought about it from Milan’s point of view, the two of them seemed so close I wondered how she would suffer it if Paris didn’t come back.

“She’ll be found,” Cairo said, putting his hand on Milan’s shoulder. There was no possible way he could know that, but I realized the power of hollow words at a time like this. Hope was necessary to keep us moving forward.

We waited for half an hour or so and decided to walk Milan back to her trailer. I had an intense craving to get into bed next to Cairo, to curl up in his shadow, his sleeping body like a mountain range offering me substance and security.

I checked my phone before we left, it was nearing one in the morning, and I was ready to drop. We’d been up for so long that it was time to fall into bed and die.

I grabbed Cairo’s hand, he looked down at me and smiled. It was strange, that smile. It seemed to me that he conveyed an entire lifetime of images in that one small moment, our futures, our children, our love and our lives together.

Being with him meant everything to me, it meant my life was complete. In spite of the terrifying uncertainty of the here and now, Cairo made everything okay.

“You guys! You have to come here! It’s Paris!”

One of the acrobats, a young man who I thought had a little crush on Paris, was running to our side between two tents.

“What is it?” Cairo asked, spinning around to face him, our hands breaking apart.

“I found her, they’ve got her in After Dark. The bad one,” he said, almost out of breath as if he’d been running to find us for a while.

“We have to go,” Milan exclaimed and grabbed his shoulders, looking him in the eyes. “Take us there.”

“It’s over here, they set up in a different spot tonight,” he told us and turned to leave.

“We should get some help,” Cairo said, his voice booming across the distance between them and us.

“There’s no time!” Milan argued and kept running.

“Shit, I don’t like this,” Cairo muttered, but we ran after them, we really did have no other choice.

The tent was non-descript, but we could hear voices inside. The small audience was chanting something in unison, the roar of their words grew louder as we entered.

In the centre, on the small platform that was serving as the stage, were Alexi and Carl.

They were spattered with blood, Carl’s round, jovial face twisted into a maniacal mask of concentration. Alexi paced back and forth in front of Carl, Orion’s leather ring master jacket on, a long whip in his hand.

“Do you want to save her?” Alexi slurred, he was obviously drunk but his voice was still powerful.

“Kill! Kill! Kill!” the audience chanted.

Alexi stepped back and screamed, “Do you want the beast?”

The crowd chanted the same word over and over, Alexi’s face was lit up as if from within and he smiled widely, a sinister smile that made me shiver.

“She’s on the stage!” the acrobat yelled and pointed at the same table I had been on for my part of Orion’s show.

Had he put his own daughter in harm’s way? I couldn’t believe it, I stared at the figure splayed out on the table, it seemed too small and too fragile to be the laughing, energetic Paris.

Cairo knew immediately, he recognized what was happening and rushed the stage, stripping as he went. He was half formed before he hit the platform, and fully shifted as his four paws hit the wooden planking of the stage.

The crowd went wild, clapping and cheering, continuing their chant for death, to kill.

“What’s going on here?” I asked Milan desperately, confusion racing through my head as I tried to take in the scene.

“Death shows,” Milan spat and started to strip off her yoga pants and hoodie. “These fuckers pay to see girls torn apart. They used to be popular in the olden days, but it appears some greedy fuckers have opened them again.”

She gestured to the crowd as she shimmered and shook and dropped to her hands and knees. She shook her wild dark mane of hair and shivered once, shook and when I blinked again, she was an elegant dark grey wolf.

She turned to me and nudged me towards the exit, but I put my hand on her head and said, “I’m not leaving.”

She blinked in acknowledgment and turned to run towards the stands.

The crowd dispersed and started to scream as they realized the beast was turning on them. The young acrobat who had come to get us was no longer by my side, but I saw a sleek cheetah chasing the spectators out the exits.

Alexi stood in front of Cairo, his whip snapping in his hand, his body low and his arms wide. I felt helpless, so I started to walk towards the stage as the audience members ran past me screaming, some of them covered in blood spatter, some with torn clothing or gashes in their skin.

I hadn’t realized Milan and the acrobat were attacking people, I’d assumed they were just herding them out of the tent.

I couldn’t see Carl, and that made me nervous. I edged around Cairo and Alexi, heading towards Paris who I could see was strapped down, naked and drugged. Her head lolled around on the table and her limbs were limp.

I was about five feet away, ignoring the screams of the last few remaining After Dark clients trying desperately to get away from the wild animals ravaging their flesh.

My heart was pounding and my mouth was dry. I was no longer fatigued, the adrenaline had kicked in and I could see everything with frightening clarity.

Alexi was almost hypnotizing Cairo, the movements of the whip seeming to lead him into a pattern with the animal trainer. I wondered if Alexi had some magic of his own that was unrecognized.

I reached the table and started to work the straps binding Paris to the surface. They dug into her wrists and ankles, cutting into her flesh so deeply I didn’t know how I would set her free.

Behind me I heard a roar and caught a motion of blur out of the corner of my eye. A full sized grizzly bear came rushing at me and it suddenly occurred to me that Carl was a shifter, and he was a god damned bear shifter.

I pulled at the ties keeping Paris down, slapped her face gently and said, “Come on, you’ve got to wake up.”

The bear came at me, swatted and missed my leg, and kept going to stand next to Alexi. That’s when I knew it was definitely Carl without a doubt.

Why had the Cirque dulled my senses? I prided myself on being able to tell who was scum and who was trustworthy, but my time here felt like I’d been walking around with cotton stuffed around my ears.

I finally freed Paris’ arms and legs, lifted her to help her escape, and she promptly dropped to the ground below our feet.

“Fuck, come on. We’ve got to do this,” I hissed, hooking my hands under her armpits and dragged her to standing. She was boneless, could barely stand on her own two feet.

The bear was facing down Cairo, they were circling each other, glaring and growling deeply and threateningly. Cairo was almost as big as Carl, but in wolf form he seemed much more dangerous than the grizzly. Carl’s bulky human form translated into an almost ungainly bear, I had high hopes that Cairo could keep him at bay while we escaped.

Paris could hardly keep up, and as I saw the last people leaving the tent, I thought we’d take part in the exodus and go unnoticed.

Milan and the acrobat were finished driving away the last of the audience and I saw them coming back through the row of bleachers, scanning for stragglers.

“Milan!” I called out and saw her react. She raised her head and sniffed the air, I could see the moment she clued in that I was carrying Paris in my arms. She shuddered and raced towards us, shifting as she moved, reaching for her yoga pants and hoodie just before she got to us.

“Is she alive?” Milan asked, breathless. She shimmied into her clothes and helped me walk her sister away from the stage.

“She is, but I think they drugged her,” I said. “Were they going to tear her apart? Is that what happened to Cara and the others?”

“I think so,” Milan said, her eyes downcast. “I wish I’d come here sooner, to this tent, in wolf form. I could smell death in here, clinging to the canvas like droplets of water after a rainstorm.”