Last Kiss Goodnight (Otherworld Assassin) (31 page)

Two other clowns bounded from the smoke, and they desperately tried to help their friend, but they were soon caught up in the same bubble of air, and the females began to juggle them without ever touching them.

Ten more minutes, and it would be Vika’s turn. Even the notion caused her heart to pound erratically. Where was X? She wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask him for advice. He would tell her the truth, nothing held back, and this time she would listen, whether she knew how to proceed or not.

Audra was stationed beside her, to ensure she didn’t miss her act. Vika was to be part of Matas’s magic act. Just another punishment, she knew.

“Why did you sell your soul for
this
?” Vika asked her. She wanted a distraction, but she also wanted the answer.

Up went the girl’s chin, though she didn’t bother glancing in Vika’s direction. “What else was I going to do? Where else was I going to go?”

“Anywhere.”

“I believe you discovered the joy of trying
that,
” Audra replied with a roll of her eyes. “Our kind isn’t accepted out there.”

Our kind
. “I’m not anything like you.”

A greater vibration stroked over her, and she knew the crowd was cheering madly. The clowns were vanishing one by one, and when there were no more, the females looked at each other, looked behind the boulders,
as though they had no idea what had happened.

“Don’t kid yourself,” Audra said. “You’re exactly like me.”

“How so?”

“We’re tainted. And without this circus, we’re nothing.”

No. She wouldn’t believe that.

“I loved you once, you know,” Audra said.

“And I loved you.” Part of her still did, despite everything. She remembered the little girl she’d played with, laughed with.

“You destroyed me when you rejected me.”

“No. I saved you.”

“No! Destroyed! My family was so proud that I was friends with Jecis’s daughter, and when you cut me from your life, they cut me from theirs. At twelve, I had to find a man to take me in. He was awful, always using me, and the sad thing is, I’d still be with him if Jecis hadn’t decided he wanted me.”

“I’m sorry, I am.” She’d known Audra had begun living with one of Jecis’s men, but hadn’t known . . . hadn’t thought . . . “You saw what Jecis did to Dolly. I couldn’t let that happen to you.”

Audra laughed without humor. “Dolly. I always hated how much you cared for her.”

What!
“She was your friend too.”

“No, she was a nuisance. Who do you think told your father that she slammed your hand in the cage?”

“No,” Vika said, shaking her head, refusing to believe what her former friend was implying.

“Oh, yes. I wanted you all to myself.”

But how could she live in ignorance, when that former friend so boldly proclaimed her crime? Anger rose. “You ruined an innocent girl for your own selfish gain. Tell me, Audra. Are you happy with what your actions have wrought?”

Applause rang out, signaling the end of the act and saving Audra from having to form a reply.

Vika focused on the ring. Her palms began to sweat.

Matas stepped front and center. He operated with his usual charm and flair as he waved his hand over a big black top hat—and out flew twenty birds, each painted with all the colors of a rainbow. They soared through the tent, circling the crowd before disappearing in a haze of smoke, just as the clowns had done.

He tossed the hat aside, shadows rising from his shoulders, forming . . . lion heads. That was new. The lions turned toward Matas, opened their mouths, and ate him in one bite. He vanished. Then, even the lions vanished. Everyone looked around. A few people even stood. One second passed, two, then three. The lions reappeared at the other side of the ring, opened their mouths, and out spewed an uninjured Matas, earning more cheers.

He spread his arms and grinned . . . but the expression lacked any kind of sincerity. “And now, I summon my lovely assistant,” he called.

Audra gave her a little push, and Vika stumbled into the ring. There was a burning around her ankles, and she looked down to see the girl had blown a flame onto
the hem of her gown. She stopped to pat it away, causing the crowd to laugh and her skin to heat. Smoke curled around her.

The shadows Matas always carried shot out and wrapped around her, tugging her forward. Dread threatened to consume her, but still she offered no resistance when he shackled her to a spinning wheel—the same kind of wheel Solo had been tied to in the petting zoo—with her arms above her head and her legs apart. A flick of his wrist and round and round she spun. Her surroundings blurred, and her stomach clenched.

This had not been part of his act for years, and never with Vika.

But her father wanted her scared, didn’t he? He wanted to prove his utter control over her. He wanted to break her down and remake her into something dark, like him. He wanted her reliant on his mercy. Mercy he did not possess.

Her mind blanked as, in quick succession, blades sank into the wheel beside her left and right temple. Beside her left and right hip. Her left thigh. Right thigh. Both of her ankles. Finally the spinning stopped, and Vika was surprised to find Matas hadn’t purposely nicked her.

He closed the distance between them and removed the shackles. Forcing herself to grin, Vika straightened and nodded to the crowd. For the next ten minutes, Matas had her fetch his props, “relax” on a table while he sawed her in half, his shadows hiding the fact that she was still in one piece, and he bent her over and kissed
her for dramatic effect. She barely stopped herself from biting his tongue and spitting out his vile taste.

The crowd cheered. There. She had done her part. She was done.

Head held high, she strolled back to the sidelines. Several other performers patted her on the back for a job well done. For once, they weren’t treating her as if she were a leper, and she didn’t have to wonder why. They now considered her one of them, no longer set apart. And . . . a part of her liked knowing she was no longer despised, there was no denying that.

Perhaps Audra was right. Audra, who was now stepping into the ring to swing on the trapeze.

Perhaps Vika was tainted.

A vibration behind her. A big hand on her shoulder.

Jecis stepped up beside her, and her nervousness returned.

“Well done,” he said. He wore a formfitting red jacket, skintight black pants, and knee-high boots. He wore more makeup than she did, probably to prevent his aging skin from appearing washed out in the light.

“Thank you,” she replied, happy he wasn’t here to yell at her.

“Did you have fun?”

Even now, she wouldn’t lie. “No.” She might have liked the admiration she’d received there at the end, but the feeling had been fleeting—just like the admiration. These people would turn on her in a heartbeat.

Jecis swept out his arm. “Look. Look out there, at their faces. Feel the adoration of the crowd. You can have that every week.”

“I don’t want it. You had to sell your soul to get it.” Just like Audra. “I won’t do the same.”

“Sold my soul? Darling, when I took over this circus, I finally
found
my soul.”

How could he not see what he’d become? “Daddy, you found something dark and twisted. I liked you the way you were.”

A flare of frustration and impatience in his eyes. And . . . was that a skull hiding under his skin, peering out at her, its teeth chomping at her? “When I was weak?”

“When you were sweet.”

“And you don’t like me now?” he asked, his mouth moving contrary to the skull’s.

She pressed her lips together, refusing to answer.

He didn’t hit her, and he didn’t push her. He didn’t even speak another word to her. He simply stalked away.

Vika remained in the same spot for the rest of the performance. And, she had to admit, even she was captivated by the colorful lights, the exuberant beat of the music, and the antics of the twirlers, spinning, spinning, round and round from cords hooked to wooden beams in the ceiling, their bodies contorted in what should have been impossible positions. Some even dove through fiery hoops, lightning flashing from their hands as they met in the center.

A giant glass cannon was wheeled to the far right. A man made a big production of slipping inside the barrel. Audra swung from one of the ropes, nearing the cannon, and shot a spray of fire from her mouth,
lighting the fuse. As she swung in the opposite direction, the male blasted from the center, and the fish inside the glass burst free. Only, they weren’t injured. The glass turned to glittering snowflakes, and the fish to stuffed animals several lucky people in the crowd could catch.

Finally, though, the show was over and everyone in the stands rose to their feet. They ambled out, talking and laughing, marveling over what they had seen, speculating about how certain things were done.

When the last body cleared the door, the performers offered up their own cheer, breaking out the hard liquor they’d made in their own trailers rather than any kind of champagne. Jecis was in the center of them, drinking in their praise.

Now was her chance.

Vika snuck out the back of the tent and raced to her trailer. Once there, she locked herself inside. Jecis had a key, but even if he decided to use it, the lights would flicker on and off, alerting her to his presence.

She exchanged her high heels for boots, but didn’t bother taking the time to change out of her dress. Not yet. If her father spotted her, she wanted him to think she was just out and about, intending to enjoy herself with the other performers. That way, he would be less inclined to stop her or even talk to her.

Well, it’s about time,
a voice said.

X!

“I know,” she said. “Better late than never.”

Hands trembling, she stuffed as many necklaces, bracelets, and trinkets as possible into the largest bag
she could carry. She ignored the chocolates, but also grabbed the cameras her mother had loved—besides the blade, they were all she had left of the woman who’d given birth to her, and she couldn’t force herself to leave them behind. There was barely any room for a sweatshirt and winter pants, but they were necessary, so she crammed them in.

“Did you know there wasn’t a key to the cuffs?” she asked, recalling the times he’d told her to grab Solo and go now rather than later.

No. I simply had a knowing that you needed to leave without worrying about the cuffs.

Before donning her coat, she put on several pieces of jewelry that hadn’t made the cut for the bag. Six necklaces, seventeen bracelets. Rings on every finger. What a sight she must be.

“Well, I wish you would have told me,” she said.

I did. Several times.

“Why not several more?”

Why not listen the first time?

A point she could not refute. “All right, I’m ready to go.” The bag was almost too heavy to lug, but lug it outside she did. Cold air instantly enveloped her, the heat of her breath causing a fine mist to form in front of her face.

“Do you know where Solo is?” she whispered.

I do. He’s in the same tent as before. The one for the petting zoo.

Suppressing a groan, she flattened herself against the side of the trailer, hiding in the darkness, waiting
and listening the only way she could. Thankfully, there was no vibration at her feet.

Before you save the day,
X said,
you’ll need to steal Solo some clothing. He’s currently naked.

“All right.”

You’ll need a few other things, too.

As if she would argue with him about anything ever again. “Just tell me what to get, and I’ll make it happen.”

He rattled off a list of what seemed to be ridiculous items, and she swallowed another groan.

“All right,” she repeated. Heart hammering, she raced forward.

Twenty-three

For you have girded me with strength for battle. You have subdued under me those who rose up against me.

—PSALM 18:39

S
OLO HAD LOST TRACK
of time. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been bound to this wheel. He only knew his arms and legs were numb, tied as they were to the board, and that people had eventually stopped coming into the tent. Staring at him. Stroking his flesh as if he were a tame little house cat. Rousing the beast inside him to a fever pitch.

The otherworlders around him were quiet. Not because they were muzzled—they weren’t—but because they were in shock, still utterly humiliated, still reeling about all that had happened, about how vulnerable they’d been.

He couldn’t do this again. He would rather die.

Even now, his fingers were curled into fists, his claws slicing into his palms. His blood was hot, so hot, tongues of fire licking through his veins. Something even hotter had been pooling in both of his bound wrists, but now, in the face of his burgeoning resentment, that heat spread. The cuffs had just sped into another level.

No matter what you have to do, stay in control
. He would tolerate nothing less. He just had to . . . what? Since the death of his parents, he’d had no luck with his temper. Not until Vika, who would have teased him and—