by Chant, Zoe
Caro did another one. She was clearly having the time of her life.
Dali turned to Merlin. “What happened? Why did you run across the stage as a velociraptor? Roland had to drop a bucket over you!”
“The other end of the tunnel was blocked,” Merlin explained. “Ransom was right. Blue was in there.”
“Yes, I saw. But why not just pretend to be a stagehand?”
“It didn’t occur to me,” he admitted.
Dali looked exasperated, then laughed despite herself. “Well, it’s not like you didn’t have a lot to distract you. How did he get there, anyway? He can’t fly.”
Merlin shrugged. “Got me. Magic?”
A loud meow issued from Dali’s purse, followed by another from one of the Zimmermans on the cushion. Mr. Varnham, who was intently watching the elephant act, didn’t bat an eye.
“Do they follow you all the time?” Dali asked Tirzah. “It must be exhausting!”
“No, they don’t,” Tirzah said. “This is really unusual. Maybe they somehow sensed the presence of a lot of shifters and wanted to hang out?”
When Renu marched offstage and knelt so Caro could slide off her back, Tirzah wheeled over to her. Merlin couldn’t hear what they were saying, but from the gestures and expressions, Caro was getting scolded.
But Merlin had no time to spare for that. The clown car act was next, and he was in it. In more ways than one. He threw on a clown outfit, slapped on white paint and a red nose, and squirmed into a clown car already packed with people. Since he was one of the last in, he got a perfect view of a very unhappy-looking Carter getting literally stuffed inside by Larry and Billy Duffy.
“It’s like rush hour at the Tokyo subway,” Merlin said. “They have guys with white gloves who help cram people in.”
But his mouth was squashed against Carter’s red nose, and he wasn’t sure anyone could understand what he was saying. He, however, caught Carter’s muffled but heartfelt mutter of, “Never volunteer for anything ever again.”
The clown car drove around the ring, tootling its horn. When it stopped and the doors opened, Carter leaped out and fled backstage. Merlin rolled out in a somersault and followed him, enjoying the delighted laughter from the audience as clowns continued to exit the car.
The next act was Roland as a strong man. Merlin, who could change and remove makeup very fast indeed, managed to see most of it. He was amused to note that though Roland had escaped the dreaded chest-oiling, the audience members who appreciated men’s bare chests were very appreciative indeed.
It fascinated Merlin to watch his teammates performing onstage. Roland, though obviously unused to an audience, was neither nervous nor embarrassed, and was throwing himself into it with good cheer. Tirzah had started out jittery, but had hit her stride when she had to focus on the aspects that were more like hacking than acting. Carter had no stage fright, but clearly found the entire thing deeply embarrassing. Ransom had lit up when he was juggling, as if being forced to stand in the spotlight he was usually so careful to avoid had thrown open some long-closed door in him, letting in a ray of sunlight to the dark room of his soul.
We need to throw things at him randomly in the office to make him juggle them, his raptor suggested.
Excellent idea, replied Merlin silently.
He glanced at the tunnel entrance, and saw the stagehands removing the last of the scenery blocking it, now that they didn’t have to shove everything around to make room for an elephant.
“I better go wait for my entrance,” he said.
Dali handed him a cup of coffee. “Break a leg.”
“You too.” He headed back to the tunnel, warmed by her regard, and stood sipping his coffee and watching the act before his, which was Leopold and Leona holding saws in their jaws to saw Mia in half.
The lights went blue, the performers exited, and Merlin set his half-drunk coffee cup on the table. When the lights went up, he sprang onstage, doing a triple flip and landing on his feet center stage, forming a perfect circle with the other acrobats who had done the same from other entrances.
Merlin had always loved performing as an acrobat, and his view of Dali watching from backstage brought him to new heights. He felt like a bird doing a mating dance, displaying his strength and agility solely for her pleasure—and he could see in her expression that it did please her. Her lips were parted and her eyes shone, making her more gorgeous and sexy than ever. He wished that after the act ended, he could rush with her straight to bed.
After the show, he promised himself.
Merlin was floating so high on the joy of performing for her that when the lights went to blue, rather than walking out as the other acrobats did, he did another flip and landed on his feet inside the tunnel.
Fausto was there, walking away from Merlin in his trapeze outfit. Which was a little odd, as he had no reason to be there. But what was really odd was the way he started when Merlin came in.
There’s something wrong, said his raptor.
“Hi, Fausto,” said Merlin.
Fausto turned around. With forced cheer, he said, “Hi, Merlin. Didn’t expect you to jump back in. Nice act.”
That was wrong, too. Fausto had never had a pleasant word to say to Merlin in his life. Merlin stared at him, and caught Fausto’s gaze going to the coffee cup Merlin had left on the table, then jerking back to fix on Merlin’s face.
“See you,” Fausto said, turning to leave.
Merlin picked up the coffee cup and sniffed it. He’d never have noticed it if he wasn’t looking for it, but his heightened shifter senses detected a slightly bitter odor.
“What did you put in my coffee?” Merlin demanded, though he had some guesses—salt or Tabasco or something like that. Though the way Fausto was acting, it seemed like it was worse than that. Castor oil, maybe?
He expected Fausto to deny that he’d tampered with the coffee, or to sneer that Merlin had gotten lucky and next time he’d get a good mouthful.
He did not expect what Fausto did, which was to turn around, stare at Merlin in shock and horror, and then run for his life.
Merlin was so surprised that he momentarily froze. Then understanding hit him like a hammer. Fausto hadn’t tried to prank him, he’d tried to poison him. Dali had been right all along: Fausto really did want to be heir—enough to kill for it.
CHAPTER 22
As the lights went up on the tiger act, Dali breathed a sigh of relief. They had just a few acts left, Cloud was still in her purse, Batcat was with Tirzah, Blue was in the dressing room, and the show had gone almost without a hitch.
She refused to think about what would happen after that.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fausto bolt out of the left-hand tunnel and rush outside, but she didn’t think much of it. People were constantly running around backstage; their whole delicate balancing act of substitutions often required split-second timing.
Nor was she concerned when Merlin came pelting out of the same tunnel a few seconds later, carrying a coffee cup with his hand pressed over the top so it didn’t spill. Then she caught the look at his face as he stopped and looked around wildly. Something was wrong.
She hurried over to him. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Fausto!” Merlin said. The inspector glanced up, and Merlin lowered his voice. “You were right all along. He tried to kill me—he poisoned my coffee—he dropped the trapeze on us!”
Dali felt an odd shock of alarm and relief combined. An attempted murderer was on the loose, but at last, they knew who it was. There was no more need to jump at shadows. “I just saw him run outside.”
Merlin started toward the door, but Dali grabbed his hand. “Don’t go after him alone! He might have a weapon.”
“Right.” Merlin nodded decisively. “I’ll get a group together. You warn everyone else. And find someone who can do trapeze to take his part. The show must go on!”
“Okay,” Dali said, feeling a little dazed.
“And if anyone doesn
’t believe you, send them to the men’s dressing room. I’m going to leave the coffee there. They can smell it themselves.” Merlin strode to the birdcage where Janet was watching everything as a parrot, opened the door and held up his arm for her to hop on, then went with her into the dressing room.
His confidence and quick planning made Dali feel better. She immediately got on headset with Kalpana.
“Fausto?” Kalpana said incredulously. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Merlin emerge from the men’s dressing room with three strong men, then knock on the door of the women’s dressing room. “Who else can do trapeze?”
“With Fausto out? Nobody. They’re all stuck in their shifted forms. We could cut the act to two, but they’ve trained with four. I’m not sure they could go to a two-person act on the fly.”
“You keep thinking about it,” Dali said. “I have to warn everyone.”
As she hung up, Merlin and his group, which now included three strong women, headed outside. Janet flew from his arm and perched atop her birdcage, her feathers fluffed up and her beak clacking.
Mr. Varnham waved at Dali. Reluctantly, she went to his desk.
“Er, can someone escort me to the bathroom?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” Dali said, uncertain whether this was the greatest stroke of luck ever or the worst. “Hang on, let me get someone.”
She found Bobby Duffy, who was scowling at not having been included in Merlin’s team, and whispered, “Can you please take Mr. Varnham to the bathroom and back? And make sure he doesn’t see... anything.”
“Sure,” said Bobby, perking up a bit at having something to do. He collected Mr. Varnham and went out a side door.
Dali went around warning everyone who hadn’t already been warned by Merlin. She felt slightly silly crouching down and explaining a murder plot to a bunch of cats, but it was nice to not have to worry about Mr. Varnham watching.
“Hey!” whispered a girl’s voice. It was Caro, still in her spangled elephant rider outfit. “I heard you telling Kalpana you need another trapeze artist.”
Tirzah chimed in before Dali could. “You are absolutely not doing trapeze. For one thing, Pete already said no. For another thing, you don’t know how.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean real trapeze,” Caro assured them. “I mean I could pretend to be on a trapeze.”
“How do you pretend to be on a trapeze?” Dali asked, baffled.
At that moment, one of the doors that led outside opened, and Fausto came in. Before anyone else could react, Janet let out a screech of rage and flew at his face. Fausto went over backward with the parrot clinging to him, clawing and pecking. Dali lunged forward, sat on his chest, and pinned his arms, one with her right hand and one with her left forearm.
Then the solid man’s body she sat on was gone. Dali hit the floor with a painful thud. A flying squirrel wriggled out from under the heap of clothes and leaped upward, flaps of skin spread to glide away.
Tirzah snatched him out of the air and popped him into Janet’s birdcage. The squirrel that was Fausto chittered angrily, flinging himself against the bars.
“Can he shift and break it?” Dali asked.
“It’s wrought iron,” Janet squawked. “He’d squash himself. Stick him in the dressing room closet. I’ll go tell Merlin’s team we caught him.”
A clown took away Fausto’s cage. Dali held the door open for Janet, and she soared out into the moonlit night.
Pete came in a moment after Janet left. The massive cave bear was being led in on a leash by his “trainer,” growling softly to himself. Dali was somehow unsurprised to see Spike, his prickly green flying kitten, fly in after him through the open door.
With the same practiced ease that had allowed Tirzah to grab Fausto and get him in a birdcage before he could shift, Caro captured the cactus kitten and passed him to Tirzah, who resignedly held him with one hand and Batcat with the other.
Caro ran to her father. “Dad, I don’t know if you heard but Fausto tried to kill Merlin, so we locked him in a birdcage. That leaves us one trapeze artist short, so I was thinking—”
Pete growled loudly and shook his shaggy head.
“Not of actually doing trapeze,” Caro said hastily. “Of course not! I don’t know how. Um, and also you said no. But Moonbow showed up a little while ago, no idea why. Moonbow!”
Her miniature pegasus fluttered out from a shadowy corner, his opalescent wings seeming to glow in the dim backstage lights.
Only on a night like this would I not notice a miniature pegasus flapping around, Dali thought.
“So if we open a panel in the tent to let in some moonlight, he can go full-size and I can ride him, but the audience won’t see him because he’ll be invisible to them, so I’ll look like I’m floating in mid-air. And I’ll pretend I’m on a trapeze,” Caro concluded. “It’ll be completely safe. I ride him all the time! Please, Dad?”
Pete made a low rumbling sound that meant either Oh I guess so but be careful or Absolutely not.
“Dad?” said Mr. Varnham, stepping back in. “The bear is named Dad?”
Caro gulped, then said, “Yep. The bear’s name is Dad. It’s ‘cause he has a dad bod.”
Pete growled again.
“Is it safe for you to be so close to him?” asked Mr. Varnham. “He sounds angry.”
“No, Dad loves me.” Caro petted him. “Right, Dad?”
Pete nuzzled her with a tenderness that convinced even Mr. Varnham.
Merlin returned with the group he’d left with, with Janet on his shoulder, just as the tigers exited (Mr. Varnham shrank back into his chair as they passed him) and Pete grumpily climbed on to his unicycle and rode it into the spotlight.
Much as Dali would have enjoyed watching Pete’s act, she was distracted by Caro tugging at her sleeve. “Ask Kalpana if we can get moonlight inside the tent!”
“I’m not sure your father said yes,” Dali whispered.
“Well, I can’t ask him to be more clear,” Caro pointed out. Rounding on Tirzah, she said, “He really does let me ride Moonbow.”
“That’s true,” Tirzah admitted. “But...”
“Merlin, I can take Fausto’s place in the trapeze act by riding Moonbow while I hold on to the bars and—”
“—and he’ll be invisible, right,” Merlin said. To Dali, he said, “The big top panels do open.”
Dali got on headset with Kalpana and began hurriedly updating her on Caro’s idea.
Music began to play, and there was a burst of laughter. Dali glanced onstage. A very annoyed-looking Pete was now dancing on his hind legs.
“Oh, I wish I had my phone to video this,” Merlin said. Since few of their costumes had pockets, phones were stashed in the dressing rooms.
“I’m sure Pete will be extremely glad you don’t,” said Tirzah, then snickered. “Though I do have mine.”
“I have to get up in the rigging before Dad finishes dancing if I’m going to do this,” Caro said to Tirzah, her voice rising as she got increasingly frantic. “Please, please, please!”
Moonbow hovered in mid-air, madly flapping his wings. He gave a hopeful whinny, making Mr. Varnham glance around curiously; there were no horses backstage.
Tirzah gave a huge sigh. “Merlin, you’ll take care of her, right?”
“Of course,” he promised her.
“Go,” said Tirzah. “If it turns out Pete didn’t give you permission, it’s on me.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Caro flung her arms around Tirzah, then practically flew up the ladder.
Merlin kissed Dali, then ran for the ladder at the opposite end of the stage. The music stopped, and Pete ambled offstage in the scene shift lights. He glanced at Tirzah, who tilted her cell phone to display the message:
CARO RIDING MOONBOW. I SAID OK. HOPE YOU DID TOO.
Pete heaved a huge sigh that blew sawdust around on the floor and made Mr. Varnham give a nervous twitch, then sat down w
ith a good view of the stage. His “trainer,” who had already taken out some kind of bear treat to feed to him, thought better of it and stuffed it back in her pocket.
“Opening panels,” said Kalpana over the headset. Moonlight flooded the stage, and Dali heard the audience go, “Ahhh.”
What followed was pure magic.
Kalpana brightened the stage lights only slightly, to enhance rather than distract from the silvery moonlight. Merlin soared through the air, his hair bleached to silver-gold, the light seeming to shimmer on his skin. He seemed to use the trapeze more for balance than for necessity, as if he could fly unassisted. Every movement was grace and strength and beauty combined. Dali could have watched him forever.
Caro rode her pegasus, now full-size in the moonlight, holding the trapeze bar or releasing it to catch another artist’s hands. She and Moonbow flew like a single being, her long black hair flying out behind her in an echo of Moonbow’s opalescent tail.
The three trapeze artists had to shape their act around Caro and Moonbow, and that meant slowing it down, focusing more on grace and precision, less on speed. The result was that they seemed to be doing a ballet in mid-air. It was the most beautiful thing Dali had ever seen.
When it finally ended to rapturous applause, the trapeze artists climbed down the ladders. Moonbow, again the size of a kitten now that the moonlight had vanished, flew down.
Caro was radiant. She hugged Tirzah, then Pete. Her father nuzzled her and made a sound that could only be interpreted as pride.
Merlin swept Dali up in his arms and spun her around. She felt as weightless and joyous and free as if she was on a trapeze.
Almost the entire company joined in the final act, in which the animals taught the humans to play tricks and tossed them treats. The mood of giddy joy continued as Dali and Merlin crouched onstage, letting a sea lion teach them how to ring a bell.
And with that, the show was over. Dali took her bows with the rest of them, and looked out across the ring to see a standing ovation.
Afterward, Ms. Moore came backstage to join her colleague. She looked completely different, practically glowing with delight. Spotting Merlin, she said, “I absolutely adored the show. I can’t speak for Mr. Varnham’s report, of course, but it’s obvious to me that this is a real circus, not some kind of front. You had a packed house that would easily account for all your income if that’s the number of tickets you normally sell—and I assume you do, because the show is brilliant! I’m bringing my wife and our daughter next week!”