The Ladies of the Secret Circus

by Constance Sayers

  As the thought swirled in her, she looked at Mr. Tisdale, who seemed to be able to read her mind. His eyes were now wide with alarm.

  The car kept descending under a tunnel. “And as you might guess, both my girls fell in love with Giroux, so when Giroux chose Cecile over Esmé, well, she went a little crazy.”

  “She killed him,” said Cecile.

  “But not before lovely Cecile here had conceived your… well, I guess it would be your grandmother Margot. I think you saw her riding His Majesty earlier. Marvelous performer she is, much better than Sylvie ever was on a horse.”

  Cecile spoke through gritted teeth. “Father is wrong. I fell in love with Émile before he cast the spell. Only Esmé was affected by the spell. Her love for Giroux was never genuine.”

  Althacazur made a face that indicated he disagreed with this assessment.

  Lara couldn’t speak. This man—this daemon—was fucking nuts. How on earth could she make sense of this? Was this a bad trip of some sort?

  “As a result, Esmé has stomped around for decades in a terrible mood over Émile Giroux. She traveled around the world for the first ten years getting into all kinds of trouble. The other daemons were furious. Then she decided to set up a residence in that horrid little town you live in. I think she enjoys killing all of the loves of Cecile’s offspring as payment for Émile Giroux, who, frankly, was dull as dishwater and someone she never would have loved of her own volition.”

  Cecile went to protest, but he put his hand up.

  “I know, I know,” he said, his eyes rolling. “Greatest love, blah, blah.”

  Mr. Tisdale chirped.

  “I know what I did to Esmé wasn’t fair, but this decades-long tantrum is frankly tiring. I’m getting a lot of grief about it. Lucifer has told me that I must get her under control. So now we come to you, Ms. Barnes. You come from a long line of my descendants. You aren’t entirely mortal—you’re also part cambion. Perhaps you’ve noticed that you live in a perfect town. With no crime. Zero. Well, that’s Cecile’s doing. She gave Margot a spell, but I hear your mother keeps it up quite well, the way one would take care of a lawn. Audrey is a general bore, but she knew how to protect you from Esmé. Sadly, that spell doesn’t work outside Kerrigan Falls, so my dear child nearly killed you the other day at the Père Lachaise.”

  “The woman who chased me? It was Esmé?”

  “That was my sister who tried to kill you,” said Cecile. “Audrey gave you a spell, but it didn’t work or you didn’t perform it correctly. I made Father intervene. Usually he won’t, but for some reason he’s taken with you.”

  “Why is she trying to kill me?” Lara shifted her gaze from Cecile to Althacazur, irritated that no one seemed to be jumping to answer what she thought was a pressing question.

  Cecile looked irritated, so she began the story. “After I fell from the trapeze and died, as she promised, Sylvie took Margot and fled to America—you knew her as Cecile Cabot, your great-grandmother. My sister also ran away from the circus, but it wasn’t so easy. With me dead and her gone, no enchantment was required at the circus anymore. She’s a great illusionist, so she took what she learned from Father and figured that if she wanted to keep up the illusion of being young, beautiful, and immortal, she needed to keep killing. Maintaining the spell on herself has been a lot easier than on a full circus, so instead of killing each time we move, she only has to do it every thirty years, on October ninth, our birthday. On that day she finds a man and sacrifices him. Like Émile, he needs to bleed. She’s a hundred years old now, but I bet she’s still stunning.” Cecile looked at Althacazur. “How was that?”

  “Quite accurate,” said Althacazur. “The bitter flourish really does add a lot.”

  Like a bored tour guide, Althacazur pointed at the next attraction. “We’re under the Styx right now, kind of like the Eurostar Hell Line.” They came up to a white sand beach with black trees and red leaves. Lara could see animals—more accurately, animal skeletons—grazing on the sand.

  The trees shook themselves as they went past, and leaves pelted them. Althacazur plucked the leaves from Lara’s hair.

  “Oh no,” said Cecile, grabbing at Lara and plucking frantically.

  Lara suddenly felt woozy.

  “They’re poisonous.” Althacazur sounded annoyed. “The tree is showing off for you. Don’t worry, if you stop breathing, Tisdale has the antidote in his pocket.”

  The monkey looked more alarmed still and patted his pocket, shaking his head.

  “We need to go back now,” said Cecile, leaping to her feet.

  “And Todd? You told me you’d tell me what happened to him.” Suddenly her mouth felt dry.

  Cecile nodded and patted her hand. “She could kill any man she wanted. It doesn’t matter, but killing Émile did something to her—she enjoyed it and I think it made her stronger. As I got weaker from delivering my child, she actually gained strength. In her mind, had I not been pregnant with Margot, he’d have chosen her, so she took revenge on Margot by killing Desmond Bennett. Poor Margot fell apart—she always had a wild streak, some cambions do—but the magic combined with Dez’s disappearance was her undoing. Esmé killed Émile, Dez, Peter, and Todd. Every man we’ve loved, she’s chosen for revenge.”

  “I blame myself. I sent Esmé to the White Forest. Sadly, she didn’t come back the same,” said Althacazur with true sadness in his voice. “I had thought she was just like me and could endure it, but I was wrong. For that, I have extended her liberties, but it is becoming politically difficult to continue. She must come back to the circus.”

  Lara wondered if anyone realized that she was fading, but they kept talking among themselves. “I don’t feel well.” Her head felt heavy and she had trouble getting the words out. The trio stared at her trying to understand what she was saying.

  “We’re almost to the top,” said Althacazur.

  But Lara had stopped listening to their argument, tuning it out like a radio frequency. Todd is dead.

  She became aware of a silence. All this time, she’d realized that she’d been kidding herself that she was prepared for this news. Oh, she’d uttered grand words about wanting to know the truth, and she’d pursued the mystery of Todd’s disappearance with Ben Archer like some modern-day Nancy Drew, but Lara had never, never considered what this moment would feel like. All hope was now lost, and the cold reality of his death hit her. Sure, she’d waited for hunters to find his body in a patch of Wickelow Forest, or at least discover fabric from his shirt or a sneaker, some evidence of doom to slow-walk her to this moment. At times, she thought she’d felt his death and steeled herself for the news that would come one day. And Lara found she couldn’t cry. Even though she was poisoned and not concerned about herself, she refused to cry in front of these people. Audrey, Ben, Caren, yes, but these strangers… no.

  “Lara.” It was Cecile who spoke.

  She saw a chandelier, a lovely thing really. Had she been of better mind, she would have marveled at it. Were they in a cave? She’d forgotten. Above her a chandelier twirled—or was she twirling? She’d thought she’d been on a ride, but everything in this fucked-up place was backward. Maybe Todd being dead meant he was really alive? This place was like that, turning in on itself.

  For a dead woman, Cecile had a mighty grip. She held Lara up as she sank in the gondola chair.

  “I’m sorry.” Lara closed her eyes and swore that if Althacazur started babbling again, she’d say something that would send her to the White Forest, but she didn’t care. “You said that Todd is dead?”

  “He is.” Cecile touched her hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You’re sure.” Lara focused on Cecile’s eyes, locked in on them. Perhaps it was the poison, but she found she was numb all over. Her lips were dry and felt like they were swelling. She’d begun rocking.

  “Sadly, yes.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick.” Lara leaned over the gondola and threw up in the River Styx.

  She was very muc
h inside herself now, as if she were experiencing the fuzzy effects of a painkiller, while somewhere in the distance she heard Althacazur continue his monologue. “Esmé knows it’s coming to an end. She knows that Lara is the most powerful creature to come down from the line. I’ve made you the strongest magical creature that I can for the sole purpose of stopping my daughter. That, Lara, is why she wants to kill you.”

  The car began to lift. Lara was still woozy and didn’t understand this part of the conversation. Hell, the entire thing was confusing.

  “Hold on until we get to the top. Don’t die on us. It would be so anticlimactic.” Althacazur cackled.

  Dying. She thought she was probably close to that now, given the effect of the toxin. This would be an acceptable end to her story, she decided. As they reached the arcade lobby again, Althacazur lifted the bar and got out of the car, holding out his gloved hand for Lara, who was aided by Cecile. Tisdale scampered to turn off the machine.

  Lara was still stumbling even under Cecile’s grip when Tisdale came and presented her with a lollipop.

  “Oh, I can’t.” Lara made a face. The idea of eating anything right now was impossible.

  “It’s the antidote,” said Althacazur, taking the lollipop and handing it to her. “I warn you, though, it tastes like…”

  Lara put it in her mouth and began to cough. “Shit! This tastes so foul.”

  “Indeed. It’s actually made of petrified donkey shit from Hades, but it will save your life.”

  Lara lurched, fell over, and threw up again. After she’d collected herself, Tisdale motioned for her to keep sucking it.

  It did have the effect of making her clearheaded again, but she needed to leave this circus and get back to Audrey and Jason… Ben. It would take time to process what she now knew about Todd, but they would help her.

  Following them back into the center ring, Lara saw it was now filled with the performers, standing at attention. Althacazur walked over to Cecile and pulled her chin up. “I agree, the grave mistake that I made was separating you two in the first place. You were perfect as you were. I failed to see that. When this is all over, you two will be reunited. I promise you.” Althacazur stroked her face. “I refused to intervene between you girls once, but I’m going to do so now. It needs to be by your hand, though, Cecile. I warned you once, this battle is between the two of you. I’ve helped you enough by bringing Lara here and making sure her magic is strong. She’s the perfect weapon.”

  He walked around the arena, sweeping his hand like Vanna White. “So here you go. I built you a circus, Lara Barnes! Remember, when I came to visit you as a child, I told you that this circus was your destiny.” He put his arms out. “The care of these creatures falls to you now, my dear. You see, the circus requires a human patron. You are human enough, though powerful cambion blood—mine—flows through you. This magnificent legacy needs one who cares for it and keeps its connection to the outside world, perhaps one who can convince the tickets to come back out.” He shrugged. “I’d hoped that Sylvie would follow her mother and become the patron, but that was not to be. Then my hopes rested on dear Margot, then Audrey. But now with you, Lara, at the helm, I will finally be free of this place to go and be the daemon artist that I am intended to be.”

  They were all staring at her—the performers, Althacazur, Margot, Cecile, Doro, and Tisdale. Lara looked around, confused, not realizing they were waiting for a reply. She stumbled a little, still woozy. “But I don’t want a circus.” What Lara needed was to think… and to mourn. This was absurd. All of it. As she spoke, though, the creatures all seemed to sink in front of her. The elephant, the winged lion, and Tisdale put their heads down. The music that was playing stopped abruptly.

  Althacazur adjusted himself and Cecile started to speak, but he cut her off.

  He walked toward her, Lara shrinking in his presence. Suddenly this felt like touring a time-share facility, and she now had to endure the sales pitch.

  “You know what will happen to them.” Althacazur’s voice was calm. He pointed to the performers; gone was the jaunty ringleader. “I’ll just send them all back to Hell. They’ve served their purpose, babysitting Cecile and Esmé.” Lara saw his eyes weren’t amber at all—that had been an illusion. They were black, and she saw him in his true form—with a purple robe and the head of a ram—before he switched back to the handsome man with brown ringlets and eyes the color of dead grass. She’d recalled the online encyclopedia entry on him: Given his charm, he is often mistaken as a lighter demon, which is a grave mistake, for he is the most vain and unforgiving of all Hell’s generals.

  Lara exhaled sharply and looked around the ring. The performers stared back at her like animals in a shelter.

  “Ah hell, baby,” said Althacazur, cackling. “They can all just burn. It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll close the circus and send all of you back to Lucifer—you included, Cecile.” He spun toward Lara, his heels squeaking. “Then I’ll let you and Esmé duke it out. You’ll be dead in a day.” He turned dramatically. “More fodder for Lucifer.”

  “Father.” It was Cecile, her voice sharp. “No! You can’t send them back. That would be cruel. You commuted their sentences, promising them that they could stay here for eternity. They all did as you asked.” She snorted. “Now it seems that you don’t want to be bothered with the burden of us all.” Her face fell. “I’m sorry, Lara. I didn’t realize he was bringing you here to trick you into taking over the circus.”

  “You helped me bring her here,” said Althacazur. “Surely you knew.”

  “You never said.” Cecile’s brows furrowed.

  “And you, my dear, never asked.”

  “Can I just speak for a moment?” Lara folded her hands in front of her, trying to compose herself. Beyond furious, she’d had it with this ridiculous world, this crazy story, and this nutty man. “I’ve listened to your story. I’ve watched the circus, which is lovely, by the way. I’ve gone on these fucked-up rides and eaten shit pops—a taste that I will never, ever get over. But to be clear, the only reason I came here is because you promised me that I’d find out what happened to my fiancé. And now I know the truth.” Lara’s voice broke and she paced. “He’s dead.” The word was like a razor, hard for her to utter.

  Everyone watched her intently. Wiping mascara from her hands, she steeled herself and looked at Althacazur. “Now that I know what happened to him, I’d just like to go home.”

  Althacazur seemed oblivious and put his hands on his hips. He walked in a circle around Lara, his fury palpable. “I show you what is, perhaps, my greatest masterpiece. I offer you the universe—this fucking perfect circus—and you don’t want it?” His voice mocked her and rose until the entire arena rumbled. “I’ve told you all your life: The boy wasn’t the point. It was the circus. Always the circus. I gave you the information on the boy to lure you here to gaze upon your destiny.”

  Lara thought he was wrong. The mortal boy was the point. Todd mattered, just as Juno Wagner had mattered to him, once. Lara looked around to find them all staring at her. She’d forgotten that they all could read her mind. Aloud she said, “Shit.”

  Althacazur’s face twisted in fury. Tisdale put his hand up to stop him from something, but he slapped the little monkey away and retreated to sink into the velvet chair. “What have I done to make this one so stupid? I tried with her, oh how I tried with this one. I made her the perfect weapon to bring my Esmé home and take over.” He sat on the throne, spittle sprouting from his lips as he pointed to Lara. She feared he was going into a fit. “Why are my offspring such failures? I went to that dump of a place where this one lives and spent time with her. Poor Margot was mad.” He pointed to Margot, who looked down. “Audrey’s a bore. I’d so hoped that this would be the one worthy of the circus and able to contain Esmé.” He sat sulking like a child, yet Lara could see the terror in Tisdale’s face. He pointed to Lara. “You know, Esmé should win; she has my ambition. In thirty years, Lara, when you have a daughter, the love of he
r life will be Esmé’s next victim. And you’ll have no one but yourself to blame.” He turned in his chair after giving Lara a final look of disgust. “Go back to your dreary home. Cecile, Tis… get her out of my sight, before I kill her.”

  “Father.” Cecile crouched down beside him, her fingers resting on the arm of the chair. “You have to understand that this was terrible news to her. You mustn’t be so angry at a poor human. Please.”

  Lara could see him soften, his face relaxing. Cecile reminded him so much of Juno. Lara could see it now, the loss that registered on his face each time he looked at his daughter. This was the real source of Cecile’s power with him.

  “We haven’t really shown her the circus. You can’t blame her. She hasn’t performed in it, felt it in her blood. She doesn’t know what it can do.”

  He was leaning over on the chair, but a slow smile formed on his lips. “We really haven’t shown her, have we?” He clapped his hands and jumped to his feet. “Start from the top.” He softened and motioned for Lara to join him back in the center.

  Lara was trying to process the evil vision of him she’d just had with the man who was now parading around like a 1970s rock star mixed with a little Lord Byron, so she approached him cautiously. “I just want to go—”

  But Cecile shot her a warning look.

  The orchestra began to play Grieg’s “In the Hall of the Mountain King” again. Two bearded ladies rushed in with costumes and sheets. They shrouded Lara with the sheet, then quickly ripped off her dress. One of them held a costume with a sequined pink bodice, gold beading, and a matching fringe skirt. This was the leotard that Cecile had described—her signature costume. As they spun Lara, the bodice molded around her and sewed itself as the orchestra began to pluck faster at the frenzied conclusion to the song.

  “Oh good. It fits.” Althacazur seemed pleased.

  Two men dressed in gold-and-pink-striped long leotards met her and pointed to the ladder that had appeared from the ceiling.

  “You want me to crawl up there?”

  Althacazur nodded, clapping enthusiastically. He looked down at Tisdale, who began to mirror his master’s clapping. He pushed her along. “Up, up.”