The Nightingale Circus (7 page)

The man let out a throaty laugh. “I like you.
All right, you have one week to come up with half a dozen tricks.
Talk to Rake and Spinner about any mechanical parts you need.
They’ll help.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Okay, let’s go meet the crew before we both
freeze. You can leave your luggage in here for now.”

Nicolas followed him to the door.

“Oh, and you can call me Big Dino. I’m your
new Boss.”

The air left Anya’s lungs with sounds of
wrinkling paper. She lay on a plushy chaise near the wide window,
facing the terrace, and waited to die. She’d been doing it for a
while, and it was a boring and exhausting activity. Throwing an arm
over her eyes, she squeezed the handkerchief in her other hand and
wished for a nap during which she wouldn’t feel like she was
drowning in her own fluids. No such luck.

The door opened, and Masha came into the
lounge with the medicinal tea, dragging her feet on the marble
tiles. She had also assumed the role of a nurse during Anya’s
sickness, in addition to her duties as a maid, and she always
arrived with the medicine with the precision of an atomic
clock.

Anya tried to ignore the shuffling and the
clinking of the china set more fit to be displayed in a museum than
put to any use, but arranging everything was taking too long. When
the minty scent hit her nostrils, she wrinkled her nose and gave up
hiding. The medicine didn’t vanish by itself, and while it didn’t
seem to do her any good, it was probably going to last longer than
her. She raised her head and stared at the tea set.
Two
cups?

“You have a visitor,” Masha said, her hands
propped on her large hips. All those dinners that Anya barely
touched had to go somewhere.

“I don’t want to receive any visitors.” Anya
waved a long, lithe arm and lowered her feet to the floor. She’d
come to St. Petersburg to get out of the public eye, not to parade
her decaying body in front of the whole world. Her image as a prima
ballerina was the only thing she had left, and she was going to
hang onto it. “Tell them to leave.”
And not come back.

“Okay, I will … but it’s Serioja.”

The cup trembled in Anya’s hand as she
straightened herself up. She hadn’t seen Serioja in over two years.
Their fling had ended shortly after he’d won the Olympic gold in
gymnastics and then got a traumatic brain injury from falling off
of the bar during an exhibition gala. She had been away at the
time, touring with the Balshoi Theatre ballet company, but nothing
had been the same after that. He’d disappeared a few months later,
and the rumor was he’d run away with the circus or worse. All lies,
for sure.

“You’re not going to throw me out, are you?”
The voice came from the silhouette standing in the doorway, the
same tall, muscled frame, short sandy blond hair, blue eyes, and
empty expression.

“Serioja, darling!” Anya put the cup down and
outstretched both arms in his direction, her smile sincere. “It’s
so good to see you. Come in…” She gestured for him to come in,
patting the chaise, not trusting her legs to hold her if she got
up.

“Good, ‘cause I came a long way to see you.”
Serioja leaned in to give her a careful hug, as if fearing she
might break in his arms.

God, do I look that bad?
Anya
suppressed an annoyed grimace. She probably did. She was too pale
and too skinny, a walking ad for a funeral home commercial. Holding
Serioja’s light gaze, she discreetly pulled on the sleeves of her
silk robe to cover the bruises left by the IV needles on her arms.
“What are you doing in town? Where have you been? Tell me
everything!”

“I’ve been traveling.” Serioja pushed aside
the pillow that Anya had used to keep her feet up, and he settled
down.

Anya offered him a cup of tea before picking
up hers. “Where to?”

Masha gave them one last inquisitive look and
left them alone.

“Oh, I’ve been all over the place,” Serioja
said in his slow, soothing voice. “I found a job with a circus …
you might have heard.”

“I did, but I couldn’t believe it. A circus,
really?” Anya’s curiosity was piqued. After living secluded in this
mausoleum of a house for the past few months, she strived for some
juicy gossip. “Oh, I don't know what to ask … tell me
everything.”

“Yes, a circus. It’s called The Nightingale
Circus, and it’s in town right now.” He held the cup with both
hands but didn’t drink, tea forgotten. “I get to do what I still
can, and the people aren’t that bad so…” He raised his shoulders.
“It’s far from what we thought our future would be, but it works
for me.”

Of course it did. Unlike Anya, Serioja had
never aimed high. If he could do his routines, he was happy. “Well,
you’re doing better than me…” She laughed at her own predicament.
The laugh brought on the cough, and she had to gulp half a cup to
make it stop. When she coughed again, the handkerchief filled with
blood, but at least the air was getting into her lungs. “Uh.” She
balled the square of flimsy monogrammed fabric in her fist to make
the sight of the blood disappear. “Sorry. You were saying?”

Serioja took both of her hands in his. “Anya,
what happened to you?”

“I’m sure you heard the rumors … I caught a
bug while we were with the company in India, but I was too proud to
quit the tour and I postponed the treatment.” Her eyes rolled
dramatically. “By the time we got back, it was too late. So now I’m
waiting for a heart and lung transplant, which won’t happen any
time soon since the Russian Federation is in chaos and no one cares
about the arts anymore. Why would they? Everything can be solved
with prosthetics these days. Soon, they’ll have androids replacing
us on the stage, too.”

Her bitter words made a corner of Serioja’s
mouth twitch. “Yes, that’s what I heard,” he murmured, eyes
downcast, still holding her hands. When he looked up, his eyes
glistened. “That’s why I came. I think I can help…”

“Other than whacking someone for me, I don’t
see how you could do that.”

“My boss can.”

“Your boss?” Anya arched an eyebrow. “I
thought you worked at the circus, not for an organ trafficking
mob.”

“Big Dino has a side business that deals with
designing and repairing prosthetics. Well, repairing mostly since
we don’t stay in one town long enough to make new ones…”

“Prosthetics can’t fix me, Serioja. They
can’t replace full organs.” Anya retrieved her hand from his and
patted his arm, smiling. “But I appreciate the thought.”
Poor
darling, his brain had to be totally smashed to make such erroneous
assumptions.

“Sure they can.”

Anya pulled back with a gasp. “You’re not
suggesting that I—”

Serioja held her gaze with his innocent,
placid eyes that once had been full of life. “The only organ they
can’t replace is the brain.”

At the mention of his brain, Anya’s composure
broke and she threw her arms around Serioja, holding him tight.
“Oh, darling…”

He returned the hug, supporting her
feather-light weight with ease as she leaned on him. “All I’m
saying is…” he murmured into her hair, “you should meet with him,
see what he has to say.”

Anya pulled back enough to be able to look
into his eyes. “What
can
he say, Serioja?” She winced at the
whining tone of her voice and bit her lip to stop trembling. She
didn’t dare hope.

“He can tell you what’s still left to be
done.” Serioja brushed a lock of brown hair away from her cheek
with a reminiscence of a distant, familiar gesture. “You only have
to listen to him, Anya, nothing more.”

But what if the temptation were too strong
and she ended up agreeing to whatever outrageous suggestion he had?
She didn't want to die, so chances were she’d do it if there were
no other option to save herself, but then what? What kind of life
was that? Without her dance…

“—visit here,” Serioja was saying, but she’d
missed the rest.

“What?”

“I can convince him to come here, so you
won’t have to go to the factory.” Serioja squeezed her fragile
shoulders. “Believe it or not, Big Dino is a big supporter of the
arts … music, dance, painting, everything.”

“And apparently engineering, too,” Anya added
with a smirk.

“That, too.” Serioja tilted his head. “Mostly
that. So, will you see him? There’s nothing for you to lose, only
an hour of your time.”

The little that she had left. And possibly
the rest of her hopes, too.

“I’ll … think about it,” Anya agreed
grudgingly. She didn’t want to, but she didn’t have the heart to
disappoint him. After all, he
had
said he came especially
for that, and the Serioja she once knew didn’t lie.

“Okay, but can you do it fast?” Serioja
asked. “We won’t be in town for long. And if a procedure is needed,
it’s better to have more time to do it properly.”

“You want me to decide
now
?” She
pushed him away. He should know that she didn't like to be
pressured.

“Do you have anything better to do?”

Anya glanced at the chaise, the tea, the
bloodied handkerchief. “…No?”

It brought a warm smile to Serioja’s face,
and he tipped her chin up with his index finger. “Good. I’ll see if
I can bring him around tomorrow. In the morning.”

“Make it closer to noon. I need to get
ready.” It usually took her a couple of hours to make herself
presentable, and with the low levels of energy she’d been having
lately, she could count on doubling the required time.

“Don’t make yourself too pretty, or he won’t
believe you’re sick at all.” In the past, the tease would have been
accompanied by a wink and a flirty grin. This time, Serioja’s face
stayed blank.

Anya’s laughter was pained, seeing the part
of him that was missing, but she laughed anyway, choosing to
believe that maybe he was still somewhere in there and just
couldn’t get out. The laughter brought another coughing fit.
Serioja handed her the tea, which doubled the cough, but he didn’t
react to her struggle and simply waited for her to calm down.

Several minutes later, Anya lay back on the
chaise, breathing a little easier but also exhausted. “All right,
bring him in and I’ll decide if his offer is acceptable.” She gave
her permission with a royal wave of hand.

Serioja caught it and pressed it against his
well-shaved cheek. “It will be fine.”

Anya doubted it.

* * *

The tall, skinny young woman and the bulky
man with a green complexion circled each other like two wild
animals, neither of them wanting to pounce first. After a relaxing
bath, Anya had managed to slip into a dress and avoid any coughing
fit that would have ruined her make-up. She would pay for it later,
but for now she looked presentable and almost felt human.

Big Dino had refused the offered tea and
sniffed her medicine bottle instead. “I wouldn’t take this if I
were you. The thyme is weakening your arteries. It’s why you’re
drowning in your own blood.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She bit her lip not
to tell him that although it didn’t do her much good, it gave her
some much-needed relief for a few moments. “These are the most
recent X-rays.” She pointed at the rectangular slides resting on
the table.

Big Dino picked them up and carried them to
the window, holding them up to the bright light. It had rained
during the night, and the garden was still wet and sparkling in the
morning sun.

“Hmm. It’s too late to grow new ones,” he
said, frowning at the images.

“Can you actually do that?” Anya tried to
keep her voice light, but the hand pressed against her chest gave
away her surprise. She frowned and lowered her hand. She’d heard
about copying organs but not about making things out of thin
air.

“One can do a lot of things with the proper
technology.” Big Dino glanced at her from the corner of one black,
round eye. “Unfortunately, in this case, by the time the organs
would be ready to be used…”

She would be dead
, Anya filled in the
blanks.

“Well, then … there’s nothing for us to talk
about.” The words came out in a clipped tone.

“There is
a lot
to talk about.” Big
Dino turned to face her, still holding the slides in his big fists.
“I’m not a doctor, Miss Semenova, but I know how the human body
works. And these tell me—” he held up the slides, “—that you don’t
have much time left.”

Anya fought against the tightening in her
throat. What else was new?

“We can buy you time. A lot of time,” Big
Dino said, fixing her with unblinking eyes. “The question is … can
you get over your preconceptions and accept our help?” He raised a
hand before she could protest. “I know what we do is frowned upon
around here. The situation is more lax in Europe, especially when
it comes to minor things, and I promise you it’s not as bad as in
the States. However, what I’m proposing is not a minor thing. It’s
major surgery, even more dangerous than a full transplant.”

“So a transplant is the way to go.” Anya
nodded, pleased with her reasoning.

“We have to look at the facts here.” Big Dino
stepped back to the table and put the slides down. “If there hasn't
been a compatible set of lungs and heart found yet, what makes you
think it will change now?”

Harsh, but true. It was too late for her.
Sighing softly, Anya lowered her head and whispered, “There was one
once, but it was only one lung.” She looked up and peered at him
with a determined gaze. “I can’t dance with one lung.” And at
twenty-two, she was too young to retire.

“All or nothing, I like that.” Big Dino
grinned knowingly. “If you let us do the procedure, I guarantee you
will be able to dance. And since there’s no danger of organ
rejection or damage over time, you will be probably able to dance
longer than most ballerinas in your generation. Wouldn’t you like
that?”