As Malachi had taught her, she folded herself into a seated position on the ground and inhaled and exhaled cleansing breaths. An image of Ishe pushed to the forefront of her mind. She wondered if someday, when she gained more control of the animals, she could free him of his demon spirit, but she gently let the thought slide away. A few breaths later, her heartbeat had returned to normal, perhaps even a little slowed. The raven appeared in her mind. Perched on a barren tree in the middle of a desert, he squawked, loud and piercing. He was larger than she expected: not quite an eagle but bigger than an ordinary raven.
He opened his beak again, and a bubbling cloud of images emerged from his mouth. Mama held a baby, and Liza guessed instinctively that she was watching her younger self. Mama looked afraid but determined. She slipped an amulet around Liza’s chubby neck and hid it beneath folds of blankets. Another woman, tall, fierce, dangerous. Colorful skirts and bracelets. Long braids. Mama gripped Liza tightly in one hand and held out the other. The woman scowled and vanished. She’d glimpsed a woman wearing colorful skirts at the carnival; could it have been the same person?
Next, Liza, with a new baby her mother had just shoved into her arms. That was a happy time for their family, the children brightening whatever spare conditions they found themselves living in. But as the years passed, with Liza still unable to control her gift, Ella began shrinking in on herself. Ella was silent and stoic as Liza’s father rattled off a list of the child’s inadequacies with her gift. Another scene of the first time that Liza, still too young to decipher the heavy silences in her family, had rushed up to her father to give him a hug, of him stiffening before yielding to an embrace. The last vision of her, riding off in the car with Mrs. Margaret, the curses she had uttered, the ball of hatred that had been building up, coming into full bloom.
Liza tried to fight off the images, even tried to sever the connection with her animal guide, but the raven persisted, playing them over and over, forcing Liza to face her inner conflicts. She loved and hated her family. There it was. She had never allowed herself to think it aloud before. Tears streamed down her face from her still-closed eyes.
The next vision she received was of herself with Ishe, that night in the alley when he’d changed, and the next time, at his trailer, where she’d learned that the man and his demon were not necessarily one and the same. Her animal guide was trying to tell her that there was another side to her parents, one that she might not yet understand. Understand.
I can’t say that I am not hurt, even a little angry, Liza thought. But if I had the chance to meet my parents again, and I’m certain now that I’ve wanted to all along, I would allow them the chance to share with me what made them do the things they did. I would listen.
Liza came to her feet, brushing off leaves and dirt. The raven on the tree stretched and flapped his wings. He shifted, expanded, threatening to totter off the branch, then turned, taking on every color of the rainbow. It was beautiful. The bird then shrank, twisted, and flattened into a piece of gold. The gold lilted, as if a dandelion on the wind, and rocked back and forth till it landed in Liza’s outstretched hand. It then became a lone, long, and regal black raven feather.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
FRIENDS AND FOES
For the second time in her life, Liza had people she could count on. There had been her parents, once. They’d given her life—fed and clothed her, after all, even if that hadn’t lasted. There’d been few laughs, the affection infrequent but sincere. She remembered those moments, replayed them in her mind and anguished over them because she knew that had she found her parents again, she could have loved them the same.
Hope and Bombardier had become makeshift parents as well as best friends. Autumn, the big sister she never had, was aloof but direct. Though it had become clear to her that she and Jamey weren’t meant for each other, she was certain he was also in her camp. Ishe had helped her understand so much about who she was. Ishe—of course she had to deal with what had happened between them.
Eloko had been unsettling from their first meeting. An adversary. Of that she was certain.
The only real unknown was Clay. On which side of the fence did he sit? Besides Zinsa and Efe, he was the only person she’d seen going in or hanging around the red trailer. That nightmarish incident there with the stilt walker still gave her goose bumps, and she had seen Clay slinking around, dragging something suspicious out of the trailer too. That meant, until he proved otherwise, he was definitely in the “against” camp. Liza exhaled a gloomy breath.
Malachi was the only one who seemed unbiased, who gave her the sense of clarity she needed to help sort the mess her life was becoming. But she had Twiggy to think of now; if there was a strike to be made, she was determined to deliver the first blow. She made a beeline for his trailer, breathing a sigh of relief that Eloko wasn’t there.
“That face of yours,” Malachi said with a smile. “It tells a tale of great conflict.”
“Walk with me?” Liza asked, and Malachi fell in beside her, her shoulders thrown back, her bearing more determined. Time was in short supply.
Liza would not burden him with her many tales of woe—her parents’ death, an orphanage that might be looking for her sister, or that horrible sense of foreboding she now carried—she only wanted a little of the eternal peace that always surrounded him to rub off on her. She liked that, with him, silence spoke more clearly than a mountain of words. And that silence would allow her to think. She needed a plan.
Their feet crunched lightly on the alternately blighted and green earth as they walked aimlessly, both of them taking in the vast emptiness of the flat country.
“What do you think of Clay?” Liza asked. She figured the carnival front man was either an accomplice or an unwitting tool.
“The question is, What do you think of Clay?”
Liza kicked at a stone. “I don’t know. I mean, I wonder what he’s protecting in that red trailer.”
“I can’t say I wasn’t uneasy that first day when he took me there. Nothing I can stick a pin to, I am afraid.”
“You wonder about him too?” Liza asked, trying to grasp at anything that might confirm her suspicions.
“When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves,” Malachi said, and when Liza turned her perplexed face to his, he translated: “We have no control over who or what is in that trailer; we can only control how we think about it.”
With that last thought, Malachi excused himself, and Liza then caught a glimpse of Jamey. She turned toward him, raising her hand in a hopeful wave. He glared and strode off in the other direction.
Liza felt the rejection like a baseball bat to the midsection. The close of a chapter.
No, she owed him more than that. Liza called out to Jamey and rushed after him. He stopped but didn’t turn around until she laid a hand on his back.
Liza fumbled over a million ways to begin, though none would soften the blow. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Am I supposed to guess that’s your way of turning me down?” Jamey wouldn’t look at her. He began pacing.
“There’s something coming.” Liza tried another tactic. “I’ve had a vision. I have to learn to communicate with my animal guides—”
“Your animal guides?” Jamey looked at her like she was speaking another language.
“Look, it’s complicated. But I have to face something terrible, and, well, it’s just too dangerous for you to be around me.”
“Not too dangerous for Ishe, though?”
Liza could only shake her head.
“Before we saved your ass from a life sentence in Baton Rouge, you wasn’t nothin’ but a servant girl. Your parents didn’t want you. Nobody did but me. But what do you do? You spit on the hand I offered like I’m a piece of trash. Ungrateful is what you are. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still have your head stuck in a toilet cleaning vomit.”
“You’re probably right. And I’ll never forget what you did for me.”
Jamey stopped pacing and came to face her. He was so close their shoes touched. “But you don’t love me.”
Liza considered her answer; she did love Jamey, just not the same way he wanted. “I do—”
“Not like a wife loves a husband, huh? Not the way you feel about that mutt?”
Liza met his gaze and found she couldn’t utter the words. She didn’t have to.
“Tramp,” Jamey spat and then stormed off.
His words, that disappointment in his eyes, cut Liza to pieces. She wished she’d had the right words to explain. But what could she say? Something is coming to kill me, and I don’t want you to get hurt? I have feelings for Ishe? A kinship that I now know I can’t deny? I’m, um, sorry to have to hurt you . . . but in Ishe’s arms, I felt . . .
She grasped her elbows and ran her hands up and down her arms, picturing the scene as she would have liked it to unfold instead of on the dusty road where it had. Her meeting Ishe at his trailer, where she’d bolted the door behind them.
She imagined his smooth brown skin beneath her palms. Could imagine losing themselves in a deep kiss. She might be bold, but she was still modest, so she would ask Ishe to turn around as she undressed and slid beneath the covers. After all, they weren’t married yet. Liza’s eyes fluttered closed as she imagined Ishe’s hands exploring her body: gentle, sweet kisses following their path until they came together.
The sound of Elephant’s trumpeting echoed in her ears. “Focus,” her guide was saying. And that moment birthed a decision that rose in her like a crimson dawn into a new spring day. Ago and Oya had laid out the path; she need only walk it. Life was a series of moves, a lopsided pattern of offense and defense. There remained no doubt in her mind: she would take the offensive.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
AHIKU THE OBSERVER
Zinsa and Efe made a circuit around the carnival. What no one else could see was that they flanked a tall, pretty, colorfully clad woman who, despite her carefully constructed outward appearance, was a creature of the underworld.
After the meeting with her cohorts at the Skirvin, Ahiku was feeling the pressure. Before their revelation, the thought that Liza was her adversary was a mere feasibility. She hadn’t wanted to believe that she’d been wrong. But perhaps Eloko’s ardent suspicions were right. She’d sensed nothing at their first meeting, but anyone who could best her in battle would have defenses about her, so she would check out the girl herself.
They found Liza in the animal tent. It was the first time Ahiku had visited since she’d joined the carnival, given she’d had no reason to previously. The girl was actually rolling around on the floor with the Tasmanian tiger like it was a tamed puppy. Music blared, something more modern than was Ahiku’s taste. And that simpleton Ikaki danced and pranced like a trained monkey!
Was this to be her opponent? A thickly built animal trainer, little more than a child. What tools had Liza to defeat her? Ahiku almost laughed at the prospect. This was who had Eloko so worried? But she cautioned herself not to become overconfident. The demons were quite certain. There might be something she could not easily see. Could that busybody Oya have a hand in this?
Ikaki and Sabina paused and eyed her without the slightest bit of shame.
Suddenly, the girl looked up, straight in her direction. She looked through her. Ahiku blinked once, twice.
“What are they doing here?” the girl said as she came to her feet and brushed herself off.
“Beats me,” Uly said, following her gaze toward the soldiers.
The girl narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. It was as if she sensed something in the space between Zinsa and Efe. Ahiku bristled. Can she see me? Her women soldiers exchanged dumbfounded looks.
“What do you want?” Liza walked toward them.
“I’m going to finish her right now!” Ahiku took one step forward.
A raven soared into the tent.
It swooped at the women with its beak spread wide. Along with the cry that escaped its mouth, it spewed a stream of ashes.
Ahiku had no sooner brought up her hand to repel the ashes than the cursed soot slipped through her fingers and defenses and settled onto her skin. She howled her rage and did something she had not done since she’d been a human toddler—she stumbled. The ashes burned and singed. Her guards took her by either arm and made a beeline for the red trailer, but not before she registered the muddled shock on Liza’s face. She’d seen her!
As Ahiku passed the wrestler’s tent in a daze—she still wished she’d found that one herself—his wife, the fortune-teller, bounced the most precious of children on her lap. Such a scrumptious aura. Later.
As she retreated behind her trailer door, an idea blossomed in her head. “Send me the dwarf,” she said to her guards.
The threat was at the carnival. How could she have been so blind? Liza pondered what had happened as the first dull evidence of daylight emerged. Raven had directed those ashes right at the spot where Liza had sensed the presence. And what those women soldiers were firmly planted on the side of . . . was that the enemy? Only one guess where the thing had gone. Liza had tried to pursue but had mysteriously lost them. It was as if the grounds had morphed into a maze, and each time she’d felt herself nearing the red trailer, the path had turned back in on itself.
She shifted on the bunk, trying not to wake Twiggy, even though she herself hadn’t had a moment’s rest. Every sound, every creak, had her jerking up, calling on her animal guides to the point where they had disappeared, annoyed.
The sleeping arrangements were cramped but surprisingly comfortable. Mico slept at the head of the pillow, with Twiggy curled into Liza like she had since she was a baby. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, but Liza struggled to picture the long term.
The knowledge that her parents were dead had shifted to a dull ache at the back of her head. Trying to stop the tears that sprang to her eyes from falling was like trying to use a thimble to plug an oil geyser, but for the sake of her sister, she managed.
With the first rays of light streaming through the window, framing a small rectangle on the opposite wall, Liza looked down at her little sister. Her mouth was slightly open, a line of drool hanging from the corner, her leg thrown over Liza’s midsection. The eye mask Autumn had loaned her—telling Twiggy it would prevent her from getting wrinkles later on—was off, Mico having created a pillow out of it.
Did Liza even have the right to think about a future? She certainly did not. And it was cruel to give Twiggy hope. The possibility of taking her back to the orphanage had resurfaced, earning the ire of her sister and Ishe—she hadn’t heard a kind word from either since she’d brought it up. She’d also contemplated taking them both and leaving this place. But deep down, that stirring in her gut all but screamed it: she could not.
Liza shook Twiggy awake, and the first thing the girl said was, “I’m hungry.”
After much protest, Liza and Twiggy showered and cleaned up. They had a hearty breakfast, where Liza was saddened to see her sister stuffing sausage and whatever else she could into her pockets—the same as she herself had done when she’d joined the carnival. After, they met Ishe at his trailer. Twiggy pouted, and only with a threat did she give Ishe a sulky, “Morning, Mr. Ishe.”
Ishe was silent and so was Twiggy, the anger plain on her face. Did neither of them understand how much it hurt to have even considered leaving Twiggy again? How much she had to deal with? They were the selfish ones, not her.
“I’m not taking her back.” Liza’s announcement put her back in both their good graces. Ishe disappeared inside his trailer and returned with a carving of a rabbit that was so near to the real thing she had to take a closer look. Twiggy peeled herself away from Liza’s hip, grabbed the new toy, and thanked Ishe only after Liza had given her a stern look.
“You have to put her out of your mind and stay ready for what’s coming.” Ishe had guided Liza a few paces away but gestured at Twiggy with a flick of his head.
“Don’t you think I know that?” Liza sighed. “I don’t know whether to get her as far away from me as possible or never let her out of my sight. The thought that something could happen to her, or that she could lose me, for that matter, just after we’ve found each other again . . . is just—” She couldn’t finish her thought.
“I don’t have the answers any more than you do. All you can do in the meantime is practice and prepare yourself.”
“That’s exactly what I intend to do.” Liza fingered her amulet. “Should I leave? Draw this thing away from Bacchanal?”
Ishe scratched at his cheek and then shook his head. “It’s tied to Bacchanal—everything you told me so far points to that. No, best you stay here, where you have some help.”
It was obvious that Twiggy didn’t pick up on the undercurrent of their conversation but had plainly guessed that Ishe was on her side. Liza looked down at Twiggy to find her smiling at Ishe. He returned her smile with a wink and excused himself; there was always a never-ending list of things to be done for a carnival on the move.
Grabbing Twiggy’s hand, Liza trudged back toward her trailer.
What if something happened to her? What if she didn’t make it? What would happen to Twiggy then?
Almost as if in answer, Twiggy veered off and made a beeline for Hope and Bombardier’s trailer. Liza tried unsuccessfully to blot out the images of her parents dead—dying—and followed.
There was little that could be done now. The carnival was preparing for the first date in Tulsa. She left Twiggy with Hope and Bombardier and rushed off to the quiet space behind the cook tent, usually the last place to be packed up.
Head on a swivel, she scanned for onlookers. She was alone. She settled in and prepared herself, her eyelids lowered, her lips parted and closed. Ago’s words echoed in her mind.
Until you learn to summon them at will, you will call them to you by repeating a mantra.
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