High Flyer (The Magic Carnival Book 4)

by Trudi Jaye

  Tipping it back on her lips, she quickly swallowed half the bottle in one go. Liquid fire burned its way down her throat, and she coughed and spluttered, feeling like she was going to choke for a moment. Then it settled in her stomach. She took another gulp and this time didn’t react when the alcohol did its thing.

  Missy shivered slightly, so she climbed into the bed, pulling up the large duvet over her body. She snuggled down under the covers, trying to keep warm and waiting in anticipation for Zee to emerge from the bathroom.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Zeph shook off the excess water, rubbing his body quickly with the small hotel towel. He hadn’t wanted to leave Missy alone, but he was in dire need of a shower—he hadn’t bothered when he’d first arrived at the hotel after his long ride, and he smelled.

  Bad.

  If he was going to be intimate with her, he was damn well going to smell good while he did it. It had also relaxed the ache in his leg, for which he was grateful. He slung the towel around his hips and pushed the door open, a smile of anticipation on his face as he searched the room for her.

  At first, he thought she was gone, and a lump settled in his stomach. But then he saw her in the bed, her slight frame huddled under the covers. He strode to her, leaning over, intending to drop a soft kiss on her lips. But her eyes were closed and her breath was long and steady.

  She was asleep.

  Zeph rocked back on his heels. Damn.

  ***

  Missy opened her eyes blearily, a pounding headache punching into her straightaway. She groaned softly and put one hand to her head.

  The strange bed and the unfamiliar furnishings confused her for a moment, and panic rose in her throat—and then she remembered. She was in Zee’s room at the hotel. The big lump breathing softly next to her was the guy she’d been kissing last night. In fact, that was the last thing she could remember, kissing him on the bed.

  Panic rose again. Had they had sex? Was it possible she’d totally blacked out on having sex with him? She lifted the covers and looked down at her body. She was still dressed in her top and undies. A vague memory of getting herself undressed and climbing into the bed while he showered surfaced. She let out the breath she’d been holding. She must have fallen asleep.

  Now it was embarrassment that worked its way through her brain. He’d emerged from his shower, ready to get it on, and she’d been so eager for it that she’d fallen asleep. Her face flamed with heat—some one-night stand she was. Couldn’t even stay awake for the main event.

  Very slowly, she climbed out of bed, gathered her clothes together, and threw them on. She looked at Zee’s face as he slept. He still looked gorgeous, but sleep made the lines around his eyes and mouth relax a little. He looked younger, more carefree. It made her realize how much pain he carried around during the day.

  She softly pushed a lock of hair off his face, vaguely wishing things could be different, that she could get to know him better. He intrigued her, with all his hidden layers.

  Then she turned and headed out the door, back to her real life.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Zee stopped his bike outside the gates of the Compound, his heart hammering in his chest. He was finally here. He had strange—often contradictory—memories of the Compound from when he was little. They’d left here when he was about four years old, and he suspected his actual memories were mixed in with the stories his mother had told him about the place. He got off his bike and walked around, trying to orientate himself.

  The gates were metal, rising up high over his head, giving off an imposing air. He kicked at one of them, mainly to show he didn’t care. Then he walked over to the intercom system next to a keypad. He stood looking down at it for a moment, working up the nerve to press the button.

  He’d woken early this morning, confused at first. Then he’d remembered and put one hand out to find Missy. But all he’d found was air.

  His first instinct was to be relieved; the morning after could be awkward. But then he’d been a little offended. She couldn’t even wait to say good-bye?

  It didn’t matter; he knew that. He wasn’t going to see her again—but there was something about her that made him wish the circumstances were different. He wanted to run his hands over her body, to kiss those lips again, just to see if they still tasted as good as they had last night. He ran his hand through his hair, messing up the already rough do. It was nuts to be thinking about Missy when he was here to rescue his mother. He needed to focus.

  He buzzed the visitor button and waited.

  “Yes?” The voice came back quickly but was unfriendly and terse.

  “I’m, uh…” All of a sudden, he didn’t know what he was going to say. He hadn’t planned this part in his head. “I’m, uh… Zephyranth… uh… Jolly. Here to see my family, Amarillys and Abacus Jolly.” He hadn’t used his full name since he was a kid, and it felt weird on his lips.

  There was silence at the other end. “Wait there, please.” The voice wasn’t as unfriendly anymore, but Zeph couldn’t quite decipher what emotion filled that space.

  He shrugged. He didn’t care what they thought of him. He was here to get his mother and get out. If they thought they could force her to stay with them, they were wrong.

  “Come down the drive. Rilla will meet you in the village.”

  The gates swung open, and as easy as that, Zeph was in.

  He climbed back onto Ralph’s bike and rode slowly down the rutted metal driveway, trying to stay out of the worst of the potholes. Clearly, they weren’t much on maintenance around here. Some houses came into view, and a memory tugged at the edges of his brain. It all seemed so familiar, like he’d driven down here past these houses many times before. He guessed he probably had when he was a kid. He gripped the handlebars tighter and wished for the hundredth time he didn’t have to be here.

  The main village came into view, and he stopped in front of an enormous hall. Again, it was familiar without his having a particular memory of it. It made him uneasy and all the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He had to force the hands clenched on the handlebars to relax.

  There was no one else around, and he wondered if he’d come by too early. He hadn’t thought eight o’clock in the morning would be a problem. When he’d woken to find Missy gone, he hadn’t been willing to sit around in his hotel room and think about her.

  He shrugged. They’d soon get up and come to see him.

  He killed the engine and climbed off the bike. His bad leg twinged, and he winced. Last night’s activities hadn’t helped any. This morning, he was stiff and sore. He rubbed the leg, trying to ease away some of the tightness. This was the last thing he needed on top of everything else.

  He kept his dark glasses on and leaned on the bike, folding his arms across his chest. It was still pretty cold around here, and he shivered despite his warm jacket. He’d come from a mild European winter and then warm California weather to this.

  A woman walked quickly down the road toward him, and he squinted. Was it Rilla? He couldn’t tell. If truth were told, he wouldn’t even know what his sister looked like. He had memories of her dark hair and blue eyes, but he’d been small.

  What he did remember was that he’d loved his sister. They’d been like peas in a pod, and he’d followed her around like a little puppy. But she’d chosen the Carnival over him. She’d broken his tiny kid’s heart, and he’d vowed he would never see her again. And he hadn’t. Until today.

  The woman came to a stop in front of him. She wasn’t very tall and had straight black hair cut in a geometric bob. Her eyes were a matching blue to the ones he saw in the mirror every day. They were guarded, curious. Wondering what had brought him here after all these years.

  It was definitely Rilla.

  At least she wasn’t trying to leap into his arms with words of undying sisterly love.

  Of course, she would have known he was going to come after their mother eventually. So his visit probably wasn’t unexpected.

  “I wa
nt to speak with Mom. Where is she?” He knew he was being aggressive, but just the sight of Rilla was making him shake. Where before he’d been unable to remember anything about the Compound, now the memories flooded into his head of the two of them snuggling up into bed with midnight feasts, reading books, and laughing so hard they couldn’t stop. He clenched his hands.

  Rilla frowned. “What are you talking about?

  “Don’t think I don’t know she’s here. Just take me to her so we can leave, dammit.”

  “Slow down. Tell me what you think is happening here, Zephie.”

  Rilla’s calm voice was like a red rag to a bull. Zeph felt his temperature rising, and he clenched his fists. “Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that.” He took a ragged breath, then another. “I don’t have time for this crap. I know Mom is here, and I will tear apart every single building in this godforsaken place to find her if I have to.” He glared at Rilla, daring her to stop him.

  “I would tell you if she was here.” Rilla’s eyes were large on her face. “I wouldn’t hide her from you.”

  “I know she’s here.” Zeph’s voice cracked, and he clenched his fist. He wasn’t going to show anything other than anger to his sister.

  Rilla shook her head. “I don’t understand why you’re so convinced she’s here.”

  “I know what you’re like. What you’re all like. Power hungry for the next fix of magic, no matter where it comes from.” They’d even take it from an unwilling woman who’d spent the last few years trying to avoid having anything to do with them.

  Rilla straightened and took a step back. “What the hell are you talking about, Zeph? Do you even remember anything about us, about the Carnival?”

  “No thanks to you,” snarled Zeph. “You were happy to stay here with Dad while I spent my time in the hospitals. Mom was the only one who cared enough to stay with me, and now you’re trying to hide her from me!” His decades-old feelings of anger and rejection scuttled to the surface, ignited by the memories engulfing him, and Zeph struggled to calm his breathing.

  “Whoa, Zeph.” Rilla held up her hands. “That’s not what happened. Mom left us, and she took you with her. Dad wanted you to stay; he wished for it with every part of his being. It broke his heart when you left us. You probably would have healed faster if you’d stayed here in the Carnival, but Mom was so determined to leave, she used that as an excuse. Even I can remember that.” Her eyes softened. “We wanted you back here, Zeph, more than anything.”

  Zeph paused for a second, trying to work out the truth of what she was saying. It was so different from what his mother had always told him. It had to be more lies. “If you wanted to see me again, why didn’t you contact me?”

  “I did. I wrote letters, I called, and I went to stay with Mom one summer, because I missed you and her so much. But she sent you away to camp while I was there.” Rilla’s voice was a whisper over the last few words.

  A vague memory of the one time he’d been forced to go to camp over the summer stuck out in Zeph’s mind. He hadn’t wanted to go, but his mother had been insistent. Was she right? He clenched his hand into a fist. No, of course not. Mom wouldn’t have lied to him. “It doesn’t matter. None of it does. What matters is that you kidnapped Mom, and I’m here to get her back.”

  “Zeph. Listen to me. She’s not here.” Rilla took a step toward him and held out a hand, as if to touch his arm. She stopped at the last minute. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I have no reason to do that. I promise you. Mom isn’t here.” Her eyes pleaded with him to believe her.

  Her words finally broke through—mainly because of the shock of hearing Rilla call his mother Mom as well. “What?” he said, fear rising to the surface. “Then where the hell is she?”

  ***

  Missy swung out into open air, the small bar of the trapeze holding her in the arc she knew so well. It felt familiar, comfortable, and safe. Everything she needed after the night she’d had. It had been crazy, so out of character that she didn’t quite know how it happened. She was a workaholic—she didn’t go running around with strange guys, climbing trees, and almost sleeping with them.

  But she did feel a sense of calm today that she’d been lacking yesterday when she’d entered the bar. Meeting Zee had been good for her. It had taken her away from her usual routine, given her a little perspective.

  And now she needed to forget him and concentrate on practicing for the season—and the boring old traditional show Rilla wanted her to put on.

  Her resentment flared again, and she missed her cue. She swung back again, trying to build up the momentum, knowing she’d lost it and would have to start over. She landed lightly on the platform and swore. This practice was going nowhere.

  The sound of raised voices caught her attention, and she saw two figures outside, fighting with each other. It wasn’t so unusual. As a group, they tended to be quite fiery, and they all lived together in close quarters—sometimes tensions erupted. Arguments were always easily forgiven, though, and everyone rubbed along happily enough until the next time.

  Unless you killed the aunt of one of the Ringmasters.

  Then people started to treat you differently, even if the woman deserved it. Even if it had been self-defense.

  Blago hadn’t spoken to her since that night, and despite the fact that she really didn’t have much time for the pompous old fart, it had become a sore point for her. And his son Jack, the newest Ringmaster, whom she’d always gotten on with really well, didn’t smile at her anymore. It was a tiny thing, but Jack was such a friendly person that when he’d stopped, it had been noticeable.

  Missy had gone back over that night so many times, tried to figure out what she might have done differently. It was like a film she could play over in her head whenever she wanted. It had even inserted itself into her dreams, ensuring she woke screaming at least three or four times a week.

  Lucietta lunging at her with the knife, the desperate struggle for control, Missy’s utter terror, and the look of mania in the other woman’s eyes. It had been Lucietta’s movement forward that jammed the knife into her chest, but that didn’t matter because Missy’s hands had been holding the weapon when Henry climbed the last few steps to the platform. She was to blame for Lucietta’s death. It was as simple, and as complicated, as that.

  It wasn’t even as if she was that bothered by Luci’s death. The woman had been a complete bitch, intent on destroying them all. Missy wished she hadn’t been the one to take her life, but if it had been anyone else, she would have clapped them on the back and said it was a job well done. She would have defended them to Jack and made sure he remembered what a nightmare the woman had been. How she’d almost killed Rilla.

  She hadn’t anticipated Blago’s reaction. He’d known his sister was working for Hugo. He’d known she was part of the plot to destroy them all. He’d known she’d been manipulating Christoph and had a part in Abba’s death. But Lucietta was still his sister, and blood was clearly thicker than water for him.

  Missy grabbed some more of the chalk powder at the side of the platform and rubbed it over her hands. She took a breath, focused her mind, and swung out over nothingness and into her warm-up routine. Landing lightly on the other platform, she turned, swung back out again, and this time turned her body upside down, using her legs to hold herself in place. She pulled on the energy surrounding her and allowed the magic to flow through her body, welcoming its silken touch.

  Everything was upside down, the blood rushing to her head, when she heard the raised voices again. Missy swung herself back into the upright position, sitting on the bar. It was Rilla and a male’s voice that was vaguely familiar. She frowned. Not many people around the Carnival would dare raise their voice to Rilla. They knew on which side their bread was buttered.

  Missy was one of the few people who didn’t care about that kind of thing. She was happy to say what needed to be said.

  But the confrontation outside the practice hall was strange; it didn’t feel r
ight. Missy unhooked her legs from the trapeze bar and let herself drop, landing with precision on the safety net below. Curling off the net, she ran toward the fight. Whatever else had happened, Rilla was her friend, and no one was going to treat her like that.

  As she arrived at the door, she saw the person arguing with Rilla for the first time and stopped, stunned.

  Towering over Rilla, his face an angry mask, was Zee.

  ***

  Zeph glanced up as another figure appeared at the door to the hall beside them. Reinforcements. It figured.

  At first, he didn’t register the slight frame, the long dark hair. But as soon as he saw the shocked face, he recognized why his brain was yelling at him to pay attention.

  Missy.

  What was she doing here? Had she followed him for some reason? Maybe she was visiting someone here. He saw the leotard she was wearing, so tight it didn’t leave anything to the imagination. For a moment, his thoughts went in the wrong direction, and he wondered what it would have been like to actually touch her body last night instead of just lying next to her as she slept.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked stupidly, his thoughts muddled.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” she replied, her voice tight. She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Then it clicked. “Oh my God. You were spying on me.” His brain leaped to the only conclusion that made any sense. The anger welled up inside him, and he clenched his fists. This was why he hated it around here.

  “I’m not a spy, you idiot. How could that possibly make sense in your head? You approached me; you forced me to sit with you.” Missy’s voice was scornful, and her face showed him exactly what she thought of his suggestion. Strangely, it calmed Zeph down.