A Circus of Ink

by Lauren Palphreyman

  What the fuck is wrong with me? My chest is heavy, and my mouth is dry. I can barely breathe. I shouldn’t be doing this. Nothing tonight is going the way it should be, and from the irritating purpose in the Twist’s step, I have a feeling it’s going to get a whole lot worse.

  I’m almost glad I got to kill those Blotters. At least it allowed me to work out some of the frustration that’s been building up inside of me since I first laid eyes on her. I would rather have worked it out some other way. But it was better than nothing.

  I head up the concrete steps to street level. The wind sprays raindrops into my face, and the air smells like wet concrete and leaking drains.

  ‘Where are we going, little Twist?’

  ‘The Edge.’

  Lightning forks across the sky, lighting up Creator Michael’s face on a billboard over the road. Is it a sign? A warning? Does he know what I’ve done? What I’m about to do? I rub the Sacred Stylus tattooed on my forearm, my throat constricting. Course he fucking does. He’s my patron. He knows everything.

  ‘You want to go to the Edge of the World?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes. Which way is it?’

  I shake my head. ‘This is a bad idea. Wherever you think you’re taking us, it won’t work.’

  ‘There’s a place we can go.’

  ‘A black market?’

  ‘Of sorts. Look, I know you’re scared—’

  ‘Blotters don’t get scared—’

  ‘—but more Blotters will come for us. I don’t have time to explain everything. You need to trust me. I’m not going to die today. I’ll ditch you if I have to.’

  She sounds as frustrated as I feel. I let out a low breath in an attempt to get some kind of release. It doesn’t work. The weight on my chest is getting heavier. But Creator Michael’s eyes bore into me from over the road, and I need to get the fuck away from that billboard, so I gesture left, and she starts walking.

  ‘You realise I’m a Blotter and I’m supposed to kill you,’ I say. ‘Tracking you is in my blood. You don’t seriously think you could ditch me.’

  ‘I did it before.’

  ‘You’re oddly confident for someone who just witnessed me kill five soldiers.’

  ‘And you’re oddly curious for a Blotter.’

  I stuff my hands into the pockets of my hoodie to stop me from grabbing her. She really does have a death wish.

  ‘I told you.’ I struggle to keep my voice even. ‘I’m just curious about you. That’s all.’

  And when I told her how curious I was, how I wanted to taste her, how I wanted to make her scream, she didn’t even blink. She wants me though. She can barely take her eyes off me. She keeps touching me. She tried to peel off my top when my tattoo was burning. And when I pinned her to the door, she wanted to bite me.

  ‘You’re curious about me too, aren’t you, little Twist? You know, if it’s my body you’re curious about, you’re welcome to it. I can show you. Any part you like. I don’t mind.’

  She stops at the end of the alley. A flickering light strains through the cracks of a boarded-up window behind her so her face is in shadow.

  ‘How many people have you killed?’

  I press my lips together, my good humour disappearing.

  She puts her head down as she walks away. ‘That’s what I thought.’

  I grab her arm. ‘If I’m that disgusting to you then I may as well just go.’

  She tries to pull away, but I tighten my grip. When her eyes hit mine, she looks furious. Good. I’m glad she’s angry. I want her to tell me to leave. I want everything to make sense again.

  As we stare at each other, her breathing slows. ‘No. I want you to come. But what do you expect me to feel? You stand for everything I hate.’

  ‘You don’t think it’s the same for me?’

  ‘You hate me for existing. I hate what you’ve done. It’s different.’

  I pull her closer and lower my voice. ‘I’ve defied the gods by not doing what was written, so how about you give me a fucking break?’

  ‘Fine.’

  There’s a different kind of tension when we start to walk again. I grit my teeth so hard my head hurts. I saved her life. I helped her. I’m still trying to, for all the good it’ll do me. I should just go.

  Yet I’m tailing her like some kind of fucking guard dog.

  I refuse to look at her for a couple of hours as we navigate the Draft One labyrinth of black, crumbling skyscrapers, metal, and scaffolding. But when I finally do, she’s shivering. Good. I’m glad she’s suffering.

  I sigh. ‘Take my hoodie,’ I say.

  She raises her eyebrows, surprised. Because monsters like me obviously can’t do anything nice. ‘You need to keep your ink hidden. If they see you’re a Blotter, it’ll cause problems. Thank you though.’

  She speaks to me in the same condescending way you’d talk to a child when they’ve done something right, like she’s teaching me to do the same again next time. I can’t tell if I’m pissed off or amused. Either way, she should know that won’t work on me. That wasn’t the way I was trained.

  The urban landscape around us gets increasingly decrepit as we journey on, and about half an hour later, we reach a long road where most of the skyscrapers have been demolished. There’s a wall of white mist at the end of it, tendrils creeping forwards. I could have sworn the Edge was farther back than this. I snatch the Twist’s wrist to stop her walking straight into it.

  ‘Are you insane?’ I ask her. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Come on.’ The corner of her lip lifts as if she’s enjoying that I’m way out of my depth here.

  ‘Elle, it’s the Edge of the World. You’ll fall off, and then you’ll be gone.’

  ‘So the stories say.’ Her smile spreads. ‘But have you ever seen for yourself?’

  ‘Course not.’

  ‘Exactly. Blotters avoid it. It makes it a good place for people like me.’ She puts her hand on my chest. ‘Look, it’s okay. Trust me. There’s nothing to fear.’

  She turns away and walks into the thick wall of mist. It swallows her.

  ‘Fuck.’

  The Edge of the World is the edge of the Creators’ creation. Beyond it is pure nothingness. Passing over it deletes you from existence. Everyone knows that.

  I run a hand over my mouth. ‘Fuck.’

  Am I really going to do this?

  I take a deep breath that tastes like mist and rain.

  Then I follow the curious girl over the Edge of the World.

  Chapter Ten

  Elle

  The Creators’ weather cannot reach here, so other than the thick mist, it’s silent and dry, the rain contained within Draft One.

  I could keep moving. I know where I’m going. But I should wait for the Blotter. This will be new to him. Different. Like a wild animal, he becomes agitated when he’s afraid. That won’t do him any good here.

  I rub my arms, fighting the gooseflesh.

  I know he doesn’t want to come here, but there’s no doubt in my mind he will. I hear him before I see him, heavy footsteps and agitated breathing. Ghostly tendrils grab his hunched shoulders and trail behind his long legs. His head, concealed by his hood, jerks left and right as he attempts to survey his surroundings.

  ‘What the fuck?’ he says.

  I supress a shiver and then smile. ‘You’ve seen nothing yet.’

  ‘Nothing is all I can fucking see . . .’ His big hands are stuffed into his pockets, and his arms are tense as he falls into step slightly behind me. ‘Where are we?’

  We both halt when we hear a click.

  ‘Hands in the air if you want to keep your brains in your heads,’ a woman speaks, about ten metres or so ahead. She’s barely visible through the mist.

  The Blotter releases an agitated breath. ‘Great plan, little Twist.’

  Several more clicks permeate the mist around us. ‘Now.’

  The Blotter slowly complies, but I feel him working out how many people surround us, no doubt plann
ing a sequel to the scene in his bedsit.

  ‘Raven,’ I say quickly, before he has a chance to act. ‘I’d almost forgotten how hospitable you were to visitors.’

  ‘Elle? Is that you?’ The mist ebbs and flows as she comes into view.

  I’ve only been gone for a few weeks, but she looks as if she’s aged a few years in my absence. There are ink-like smudges beneath her eyes, and a new scar perforates the dark skin across her cheek. She’s thinner too, and her scuffed leather jacket hangs from her athletic frame. I take note of the heavy-duty firearm across her chest—the type the Blotters have access to. It must have been hard to get a hold of.

  She’s looking at me as if she can’t figure out whether to shoot me or hug me. ‘What the fuck? We thought you were dead.’

  ‘I’m supposed to be.’

  ‘Yeah, well, you just might be when Sylvia finds out you’re alive. Seriously, Elle, where the fuck have you been?’

  ‘You remember what we talked about before I left? About me planting some seeds outside of the Circus?’

  ‘I remember Sylvia explicitly telling you not to try it.’

  ‘Well, I did it.’

  Raven stares at me, eyes narrowed. Then she shakes her head. ‘You’re such a little shit, Elle.’ Her long braids flick over her shoulder as she looks around. ‘All right, people, stand down. And can someone go break the news to Sylvia that Elle’s back, because for the love of the Creators, I don’t want to be the one to do it.’

  The dark figures surrounding us move back into the mist. The Blotter watches them with narrowed eyes, his breathing audible.

  Raven jerks her head in his direction. ‘Who’s the new guy?’

  I can’t tell her the whole truth. Not when she’s holding a gun. Blotters aren’t welcome here, and for good reason too. We’ve been hiding here, amongst mist and stories, from the Creators’ ink-blooded killers for years.

  But I can tell her part of the truth. ‘He’s going to help us.’

  His eyes bore into the side of my skull, and I feel the irritation bristling off him. He may be reluctant to help, but he is here. That is helpful in itself. He is exactly what our story needs.

  Raven steps in front of him and looks him up and down. ‘Where are you from?’ When he doesn’t reply, she prods him in the chest with the gun. ‘Hey. Don’t look at her—look at me. I’m speaking. Take your hood down.’

  Slowly, he complies, revealing his murderous expression, and my heart beats a little faster. I believe he is important to our cause, but he needs to be acclimatised first. He’s not ready yet. He’s a bomb that hasn’t been neutralised. And if he can kill five armed Blotters without a weapon, I’m pretty sure he can kill Raven. He’s looking at her as if he wants to.

  ‘You’re hiding something,’ she says. Her eyes narrow on the inked symbols curling around his wrist. ‘Pull up your sleeve.’

  When he doesn’t, she prods him with her gun again, and he closes the space between them, towering over her. ‘Do that again, and you’ll wish you hadn’t,’ he says.

  ‘Raven,’ I say, ‘let’s talk in private.’

  She can’t know that he’s a Blotter. Not while she’s holding a gun. And if he pulls up his sleeve and bares the extent of his tattoos, she will know.

  Raven holds his gaze, glowering. ‘You vouch for him?’ she says.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘If he causes any trouble, Sylv will have you both banished.’

  ‘I know.’

  She lowers her gun and walks away. ‘Fine. But you know the routine. He needs initiating like everyone else. No exceptions, even for you. And something tells me he hasn’t got it in him.’

  The Blotter and I look at one another. I’ve only just met him, but I feel as if I can read him. Not the tattoos that tell his story in ink, but his face, his expression, his body. I can read the slight shake of his head and the hard line of his jaw. I know he thinks this is a bad idea. I know he wants to leave.

  I hope he can read me too.

  I want him to know that this will be okay. We will be safe here.

  So long as he can hold it together.

  I raise my eyebrows and gesture at Raven. He breathes out sharply through his nose, then he follows me.

  The corner of Raven’s lip quirks up as I fall into step beside her. ‘So, you did it then?’

  I grin. ‘Yeah. I created a hurricane.’

  ‘Are you sure it was you?’

  I try to push down the rise of anger. The whole reason I slipped away three weeks ago without telling anyone was to avoid this sort of thing. Even after everything I’ve done, I’m still met with scepticism when I try something new.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s just they’re saying the Ending of the One True Story is coming, Elle. There have been earthquakes and fires and storms all over the Draft. And the Edge is getting closer to camp.’

  ‘It was me.’

  She shrugs. ‘Well, I’m glad you’re back anyway.’

  The mist parts as we approach a twisted black iron gate. The Blotter eyes the two guards on either side warily as he brushes up beside me.

  ‘Where the fuck are we?’ he says.

  White-and-red lights blink along the tops of big metal shipping containers and small white trailers. They illuminate the flowers and dragons and pirate ships graffitied onto the walls. There are about twenty in total, and they’re arranged to create pathways to the vast black-and-red high-top tent in the centre—the Circus.

  People ebb in and out of its entrance flap, laughing and chatting and carrying planks of wood, buckets of paint, and weapons. The mist coils around their ankles, making it seem as if they’re walking through clouds. A group of kids scream and giggle around them, playing tag, while a woman yells at them to eat their breakfast.

  I smile. ‘Home.’

  Raven leads us through the settlement, and people eye us in curiosity. It’s not only because I’m back; the Blotter draws just as much attention. He’s huge, and even with his ink hidden he looks like a killer. It’s the set of his jaw and his unsmiling mouth, and the death stare he gives anyone who looks in his direction.

  ‘This place has grown since I was last here,’ I say. ‘Our story is spreading.’

  ‘Yeah. Sylvia was worried it would fizzle out after you left, but we’ve kept it going. We tell the odd story about the Edge of the World when we visit the black markets for supplies. And we keep it fed in the usual way every night.’ Raven shakes her head, a grin broadening on her face and creating dimples in her cheeks. ‘Fuck, people are going to be excited to see you again, Elle.’

  She stops outside a shipping container on the edge of the campsite. There are clouds painted onto the sides, and standing beneath them, three pink stick figures that look as if they’ve been drawn by a child.

  ‘This one is empty for now, but Sylv wants it for Maggie when she gets back. She got wind of some Darlings in trouble in Draft Two.’

  I was hoping Maggie would be here now. I told her about the special version of the Book of Truth that I’ve been looking for before I left, and she said she’d help me if she could.

  Raven gestures at the door, and I slide it up.

  ‘Scarlett and Johnny went out to get supplies last week and never came back. Their little kid went after them. Gone too. Only six years old.’ Her hands tighten on her gun. ‘Blotters. I swear, the next Blotter I see is going to lose his brains.’

  If her words affect the Blotter, he doesn’t show it. He strides inside the container after me, our footsteps echoing as they hit the metal floor. A buzzing lightbulb hanging in the centre of the ceiling casts a dim glow onto the metal walls, and a couple of sleeping bags are bundled in the corner.

  Raven immediately turns on the Blotter. ‘So, who are you?’

  He dominates the space, and the top of his head almost brushes the ceiling. He crosses his arms and opens his mouth to say something. I’m sure he will say the wrong thing. I don’t think Blotters can lie.

  ‘He’s a Twi
st,’ I say carefully.

  He won’t like being called that, but technically, it’s true. He did something that was not written.

  His gaze meets mine, and he answers me instead of Raven. ‘I’m Jay,’ he says, his voice gruff as gravel.

  I smile. In all the drama, I never even asked him his name. It suits him.

  ‘Jay,’ I say softly.

  ‘You have tattoos,’ says Raven. ‘That’s unusual.’

  Jay nods at her collarbone, where a dusting of stars tickle her dark skin. ‘So do you.’

  ‘Where are you from, Jay?’

  ‘The Final City,’ he says, looking at me again. I didn’t know that either. He touches his mouth. ‘Originally.’

  ‘I thought you were too well-built to be from around here.’ Raven bites her lip. ‘He’s a Twist?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  Her eyes narrow, and I’m sure she knows there’s something more to all this. But I think she may be willing to play this story out.

  ‘Okay,’ she says with a shrug. ‘If Elle says you’re good, you’re good. You’ve been travelling all night?’

  I nod.

  ‘Rest. Get some food. Show him the works. Then come to the main tent tomorrow evening. I’ll send word around that we’re initiating a new Darling.’ She looks over her shoulder as she jumps to the ground. ‘Maybe you could tell a story too, Elle. It’s been a while.’ She gives me a half-smile. ‘It’s good to see you.’

  As she walks away, I pull down the metal door, and it clangs shut. When I turn, the Blotter arches a thick eyebrow.

  ‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Who are these people?’

  ‘They call themselves the Darlings.’

  His lips harden. ‘They’re people who should have been Cut.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re telling me we’re in a terrorist camp?’

  ‘You might call it that.’

  ‘What are they doing here?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘What are we doing here?’

  ‘It’s part of my plan.’

  He rubs the back of his head, looking around the metal shipping container. ‘Fuck. You’re a real pain in my arse, little Twist.’