Last Kiss Goodnight (Otherworld Assassin) (30 page)

“Vika.”

Forget her father. Forget the future. She threw herself into his arms. They probably wouldn’t be together much longer, and she needed to savor every moment.

He didn’t grab hold of her. She felt a vibration, knew he was speaking. “I don’t know what you’re saying. And honestly? I don’t care. If you want me to move away, sorry, because I’m staying right here. Just hold me tight and warn me if you hear anyone coming.”

Several moments ticked by before he obeyed.

A sigh of relief left her at the feel of his strength
and heat enveloping her. “I vowed to do my best to find that key, and I meant it. I will. But where should I start? What if I fail?”

At the right, she heard a moan.

At the left, she heard a cackle of laughter.

Her nails sank into Solo’s chest, as if he was her only anchor in a turbulent storm. Actually, he was. Dr. E and X were still here, listening.

Warm hands cupped her cheeks, a beautiful caress she would remember all the days of her life. He lifted her chin, hope and flickers of what looked to be apprehension peering down at her. “He would keep the key close by, and it might even be something he wears every day. And you won’t fail.”

“But I’ve looked through his jewelry.”

“Look for secret compartments in his trailer. And if you get into trouble, run. Run, and never look back.”

Oh, yes. Apprehension. She could barely process the knowledge. He was putting her needs above his own. Not just for the aid she could render, but for
her
.

“I can’t do that, Solo.” No matter what. “I just can’t.”

His gaze searched her, drilling all the way to her soul. “Then run to me.”

She rubbed against his palm, practically purring with the warmth and pleasure of the sensation. “What would you be able to do?” she whispered. She didn’t ask to be cruel, but to point out how futile such a thing would be.

Anger suddenly overshadowed the apprehension, but his grip remained gentle. “I’ll think of something.”

That anger wasn’t directed at her, she knew, but at
the circumstances. “I don’t want to get you into more trouble.”

“I can handle trouble.”

“And I can’t?”

His thumbs stroked, making her shiver. “You’ve handled too much already. And one day, you’re going to tell me everything that’s been done to you. One day you’ll have the life you deserve.”

One day.

Panic bubbled to the surface because she knew,
knew,
something bad would soon happen. Something bad always happened when those words were voiced. Still, all she said was, “F-fine. I’ll come to you. And before you say anything, I vow it.”

A speck of color flashed toward the left. The fog was thinning now, she realized. Different parts of the circus were appearing, everything in its place, nothing so much as an inch off. The cage that had become Vika’s safe harbor was exactly where it had been left—right in front of Jecis’s trailer.

Only the landscape had changed. A single sun shone brightly in a baby blue sky. Rather than hills of soot and ash, with gnarled trees stretching grotesque limbs in every direction, snowcapped mountains painted the area.

“One day, you will—” Solo’s ears twitched. The corners of his lips turned down as he jerked his head toward her father’s trailer. “He comes.”

Swallowing a yelp, Vika jumped away from him.

A second later the door swung open, and Jecis pounded outside. Audra trailed behind him, wearing a lovely golden hat, coat, and boots—all made from One
Day’s pelt. The bald patches from age and the holes from Jecis’s gun had been filled in with another animal’s fur, creating the illusion of a healthy lion in the prime of his life.

Anytime Vika saw the outfit, she struggled with the urge to rip Audra’s face off.

I will not react.

Solo shifted, as if he meant to leap in front of her. Somehow, he stopped himself.

“Vika,” Jecis said, looking her over with . . . a confusing mix of disappointment and relief in his eyes. “You have recovered.”

“I have.”

“You even appear content.” His gaze moved to Solo, and the tension returned. “And you look as if you want to cut my heart out with a rusty spoon and feast.”

Solo remained quiet.

“You were gentle with my daughter, weren’t you, beast? I bet you even controlled your darker urges, just to impress her.”

Again, there was only quiet from Solo.

“You taught her nothing,” Jecis shouted, his face turning red. “Nothing! I expected the animal to act like an animal. I expected to find her on her knees, begging me to free her.”

Audra backed up a few steps, turned, and raced to the trailer, as if she feared he would focus all of that rage on her. Tremors began to slide down Vika’s spine.

“An animal would make her feel the need to beg, yes,” Solo finally replied, leaving no doubt he considered Jecis the actual animal.

Jecis popped his jaw.

“Do you want me to beg?” she asked her father, bringing his attention back to her. “I will.” For Solo, she might do just about anything.

“Beg? Now?” He spit on the ground. “When it will mean nothing?”

Still. She had to try. With dread churning in her stomach, she said, “Daddy, please release me. Please.” She hated the idea of leaving Solo trapped, all alone, to suffer humiliation when the circus kicked off and new humans came to view him. As poorly as he reacted to rejection, it had to be a special kind of torture for him. But she had to. “Please.”

Solo placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, a bid for silence.

Her father’s eyes nearly bugged from his face, and the red tint returned to his skin, darker now. “How dare you touch her, beast!”

Vika tried to step away, but Solo applied just enough pressure to keep her in place.

“Daddy,” she said, desperate. “I . . . we can have dinner tonight. And we can talk. Just like before, when I was little. Remember? And afterward, I’ll return to my former duties, if you’ll let me.”

Jecis inhaled sharply, released the air slowly. Finally he nodded, as if he’d just made a decision. “I will release you, Vika.”

“Thank you. Thank you so—”

“On the condition that you perform in the ring tonight,” he added.

“What?” she squeaked, even as Solo’s grip tightened enough to cause her to wince.

Immediately the pressure let up. But . . . she no longer wanted to move away.

Jecis ignored her question. “And you, beast, are going to suffer. You think it was bad before? You’ll soon be
praying
for those days. Not only will you be returned to the menagerie, but you’ll become the main attraction at the new petting zoo.”

Solo roared with rage he’d probably suppressed far too long. “I will kill you first.”

“Threaten me again after your nap, and see what it gets you.” Grinning now, her father reached up and pressed the button on the cage.

Thump
.

Vika watched, helpless, as the man who had spent the last six days protecting her dropped to the floor, motionless. Vulnerable.

Jecis opened the cage door and stomped inside. She dropped the blanket, determined to leave it behind for Solo to stay warm. Her father grabbed her by the arm and jerked her outside, slamming the door shut behind him.

“I’ve been too lenient with you,” he said, tugging her forward. “I realize that now. I’ve let you waste your time with the animals when I would have been better served using you in the ring. Perhaps then you would have appreciated all the work I’ve done for you. For you and you alone. I even considered killing Matas after what he did to you, and how do you thank me?”

“Daddy—”

“Silence! I’m taking you to the seamstress. The two of you will have to work all night, but whatever it takes, you will ensure you have the best costume or you will know my displeasure.”

“Y-yes. Of course,” she said, wanting to look back at Solo but not allowing herself the luxury.

I have to find that key. It’s our only hope.

Twenty-two

The faithless will be fully repaid for their ways, and the good rewarded for theirs.

—PROVERBS 14:14

J
ECIS HADN’T LIED ABOUT
the petting zoo.

Vika gazed at it with growing horror.

Early this morning, Matas—whose arm had mysteriously healed from Solo’s abuse, though the skin was now veined with a sickly black—had drugged each of the captives, rendering them unconscious. He then dragged them into the tent Jecis had had his employees set up. There, the two men had stripped the captives to the skin and bound them to giant spinning wheels with thick iron bands.

Solo never had a chance to fight, his muscles paralyzed by the sedatives. And now, he
wouldn’t
have a chance. He couldn’t even use his teeth. A muzzle covered the lower half of his face.

The circus had kicked off a short while ago, and humans had begun to parade in and out, allowed to touch whichever otherworlder they desired, in whatever manner they desired.

It didn’t help that they peered at the captives with wonder in their eyes.

It didn’t matter that they didn’t try to hurt a single one.

The otherworlders were humiliated. Defenseless. Helpless.

The tent was warm, encouraging the sale of ice cream in the corner, despite the frost outside. Strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate melted as the humans studied and petted the otherworlders one by one, discussing their “magnificence.”

Jecis had escorted Vika here a few minutes ago, and they now stood at the edge of the tent. She wanted to run from him. She wanted to attack him. How dare he allow this?

“There isn’t a key to the cuffs, you know,” he said. “Years ago, I destroyed the only one that was ever made.”

The words penetrated the dark shroud around her mind and nearly sent her to her knees. He wasn’t lying. He couldn’t be. There was too much glee in his eyes.

No key,
she lamented, her insides hollowing out. There was no key. All this time, her search had been for nothing. Forget the money she wanted to save. If she’d found the key, she would have freed everyone ahead of schedule. If she’d known it couldn’t be found, she would have still freed everyone ahead of schedule. Yet staying to aid the otherworlders had been for nothing.

They were doomed. They had always been doomed.

“Your beast will wear the cuffs to his grave,” Jecis said with an evil grin.

He meant to remind her of Solo’s fate. He rallied her determination instead.

He was a nasty, hateful man and he would never change. He would only ever cause more hurt. And Matas, too. He had been demoted to hired hand while off duty for his actions against her, but one day, he would snap. He and her father would fight for rights to the circus. Once, she had thought her father would always win against him. Now, after Matas had “healed” his arm? She wasn’t so sure. But she did know only one of them would walk away—and she didn’t want to be around to find out who it was.

She was leaving tonight, Vika decided. After the performance, when everyone was too drunk or too tired to notice her actions. There would be no more waiting. She would gather up as many of her jewels as she could carry, free Solo and all of the others, and she would run. Run and never look back, just as Solo had said.

Finally.

If Jecis found her, well, she would rather die than come back. And there were ways to ensure that happened.

•   •   •

“Welcome to the amazing, spectacular Cirque de Monstres!” Jecis’s voice echoed through the darkened tent. Vika stood on the sidelines. She couldn’t hear him, couldn’t read his lips, but she knew the routine by heart and recognized the distinct vibrations.

Red, blue, and green spotlights suddenly switched on and swept over the crowd filling the bleachers that surrounded the center ring. As expected, twitters of
excitement erupted, brushing against her skin. The lights switched off, once again leaving the tent in total darkness.

Then, multicolored sparks sprayed in the air above, fireworks that weren’t really fireworks cascading over the humans. Judging by the buoyant expressions, she knew everyone was squealing with delight.

When the sparks died, the spotlights were once again turned on—but this time they were focused on the happenings in the ring. Smoke billowed from strategically placed boulders, and as cymbals clanged to set the beat, out leapt one of Jecis’s more beautiful female performers, followed by another and another.

Each woman wore a sequined bra top and tiny underwear bottoms. After they climbed on top of each other to form a pyramid, they raised and spread their arms, awaiting cheers.

At least the majority of Vika’s skin was covered. She wore an evening gown the same ruby red as her lipstick. It conformed to her curves, dipped low in the back, and flared at the bottom. Her hair was down, brushed to a golden shine and falling to her waist in perfect waves.

A clown was the next to jump from the smoke, surprising the viewers, but rather than helping the ladies with the pyramid, he dove on top and tried to kiss the star. She resisted. The pyramid teetered. He maneuvered to the lower level and tried to kiss another. She too resisted, and down the pyramid fell. Laughter abounded as the females stood, and, lifting up their hands, seemed to tug the clown into the air with an
invisible rope. He dangled there, suspended and struggling, and the crowd ate it up.