by Trudi Jaye
“Then what are you doing here?” He watched her face, caught up in the emotions he saw there.
She paused slightly. “I live here. What are you doing here?” Missy’s face didn’t give away anything, but her body was tense.
Zeph felt as if his brain were broken. He’d been duped, played for a fool. But he didn’t quite know how or why. “You lied to me. About this place,” he said, waving his arm around to encompass the whole area. He shook his head. He should have known who she was—that lithe body didn’t just magically appear. She’d worked hard to get her sleek muscles, and where else would she do that around here than at the Jolly Carnival?
“You shouldn’t have followed me here. You should leave.” Missy stepped forward out of the doorway and came to stand next to Rilla.
Zeph frowned, still confused by this whole conversation. “Follow you here? I’m not here to see you. I came to see Rilla. You’re the one doing something shady.”
Missy shook her head. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. What are you doing here, Zee?”
Zeph sucked in his breath. She’d called him Zee. He’d forgotten about that. He glanced over at Rilla’s face—confused and upset—and realized Missy really didn’t know, wasn’t some kind of plant to trick him somehow. “My name’s not Zee. I’m Zeph Jolly—Rilla’s brother.”
Missy’s face went white, and she took a step back. She glanced at Rilla, then back at him. “What? How can that be?”
He shrugged, now feeling a little guilty. “It just is. And my mother is here somewhere. I’ve come to pick her up and leave.”
Missy looked over to Rilla and frowned. “Your mother’s here? Since when?”
Another shockwave went through Zeph. It was so easy to forget his mom was Rilla’s mother too. It was the second time he’d been reminded, and he didn’t like it.
Rilla lifted her hands in exasperation. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him. She’s not here. I don’t know where she is. I haven’t spoken to her in a while, not since just after Dad died.”
On top of everything else, Rilla’s casual words punched Zeph in the face like he’d just been hit by a world champion. The blood drained from his face, and he turned to stare at Rilla. “What?” he said. “What did you say?”
It couldn’t be true. Dad isn’t dead.
Rilla looked up at him, her eyes large in her face. “Didn’t Mom…?” She swallowed. “Didn’t she tell you?”
Zeph could only stare numbly at Rilla, trying to figure out why she might lie about something like this. But even in his angry state, he could see she wasn’t lying.
His father was dead.
Zeph shook his head, unable to understand what was happening. How he’d gone from angry to devastated between one moment and the next. “When did it happen?” he asked softly. His legs felt wobbly, and he sat back against the seat of his bike.
“About six months ago. He was killed in a car crash.” Rilla reached out a hand and touched his arm hesitantly. “I’m so sorry, Zeph. I thought you knew.” Her hand flittered away again quickly.
He could see there was something more to the story. “What are you not telling me?”
Biting her lip, Rilla gazed at him. Tears filled her eyes, but he waited, not willing to give in.
“He was murdered.” Her voice was soft, filled with grief.
Zeph didn’t know what to think. A small part of him whispered it was probably just desserts given the lifestyle they all led. His mother had always talked about the depraved nature of the traveling life.
But a more reasonable part of him wondered—had always wondered—if that were really true. He didn’t remember deprivation; he remembered bright lights, beautiful colors, and hugs and laughter. Looking around, everything seemed pristine and well cared for.
“Do you know who did it?”
Rilla nodded. “A man called Hugo Blue. But he lost his memory and lives like a vegetable in a rest home. I doubt he’ll ever be charged with anything.”
Zeph took that in. “Why did he kill Dad?” Even saying the words sounded wrong. He inhaled a deep breath.
He’d not seen his father since he was a little kid. But he’d always thought of him as being there. And now he realized he’d always thought he’d be able to visit if he wanted to. Now he never would. A lump formed in his chest, and he swallowed hard.
“A family vendetta. He hated the Jolly Carnival and wanted to hurt us.”
“That’s messed up.” What kind of place had crazy people with vendettas after them? Maybe his first assessment was correct.
“Yes, I know.” Rilla’s face showed sadness and pain over the death of their father. She clutched her hands tightly in front of her. “We didn’t ask for it, you know,” she said defensively.
“I never said you did,” said Zeph mildly, although that was precisely what he’d been thinking. He glanced at her sharply. “So if she’s not here, then where’s Mom?” he asked.
His father’s death had brought a whole new dimension to this meeting. For some reason, he believed Rilla.
Rilla shook her head. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her in a long time, and like I said, I last spoke to her about six months ago when Dad died.” Rilla paused. “What made you think she’d come here?”
“I got home a couple days ago and found her house empty. She hasn’t been there for at least a couple months. And the neighbors were all talking about a bunch of circus people who’d visited and took her with them when they left.”
Rilla’s eyes widened. “Then we need to find her. Because I promise you it wasn’t us.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Veronica smoothed her hand over Marco’s forehead. He felt hot and dry, and he was moving restlessly in the bed where he lay. She pushed a bit more of her power into him, and he settled down, falling back into a deep sleep.
She sat back down on the cushioned seat next to his bed. Watching him sleep was a regular pastime, especially when she had to mull over a problem, as was the case today. He calmed her down, gave her focus, and reminded her why she’d created The Experiment.
He’d always been an amazing older brother. So strong and talented—the star of the small show they’d lived with as kids—he’d always spent time with her, his clumsy little sister.
Their parents hadn’t had much time for her—she’d been a late bloomer, not showing her talent until her twenties. By that time, they’d all assumed she was going to be one of the few who never developed an affinity with the dark magic that pulsed around them. They’d thought she was useless, and they’d showed it, all through her teenage years.
But Marco, he was different. He’d kept an eye on her, loved her, and cared for her.
When he’d agreed to do the new, more dangerous show, she’d tried to talk him out of it. But Marco had been so certain he had enough natural ability, backed up by the steady flow of magic they gathered from being part of the Circus, that he could do anything. He’d loved her, but he hadn’t believed her.
None of them realized her absolute certainty he wouldn’t survive the act was part of her emerging abilities. Along with her persuasive powers, she could sometimes see the outcome of situations that were important to her. And she’d known he wasn’t going to make it off the wire in one piece.
Their mother and father had only encouraged him—all they’d been able to see was the dollar signs in front of their eyes when he talked about the greatest act in the world.
Veronica reached out and clasped Marco’s hand, needing to remind herself he was still here, still surviving. She’d been young, but she’d managed to save him, to piece together his broken mind and body and take him to safety, away from her parents. She’d spent the best part of the last thirty years looking after him, building up her empire with the aim of helping him, and she wasn’t going to stop now.
Everything she did, everything she had, was because she loved her brother more than any other person in the world. And she would stop at nothing to make sure
he remained safe.
CHAPTER NINE
She really wasn’t here.
He’d felt safe in the knowledge that at least she was with Abba and Rilla. He might hate them, but at least they wouldn’t harm her. Now he’d found out not only was she not here, but his father was dead as well.
He became aware of his leg hurting again, and the ache that had been threatening all morning erupted in his head. He should have reported her disappearance to the police. It never even occurred to him at the time, but it should have been the first thing he’d done. But he’d been so sure she’d be here.
“Who else might have her?” Rilla asked urgently. “Who else do you know from the circus?”
“No one! Mom hates the circus. She’s always going on about how much she hated living here. This is crazy.” He rubbed one hand through his hair. None of this made sense.
“We need to convene a meeting of the Nine. Right away.” Rilla turned to Missy. “You take Zeph to the meeting room, get him whatever he needs. We’ll all be there soon.”
Missy nodded silently at Rilla even as the Ringmaster turned and ran off, and then she turned to Zeph. “Is Zee even a nickname? Something people call you?” she asked.
Startled, Zeph looked at her properly. She was glaring at him—if looks could kill, as the saying went. He shook his head. “No. My name is Zeph. But you can damn well get off your high horse. You didn’t tell me you were part of the Carnival. I specifically asked you about it, and you didn’t say a word. I wouldn’t have gone near you with a ten-foot barge pole if I’d known. Don’t lay all this on me.” He was deliberately scornful, trying to hurt her like she’d hurt him.
Missy stood watching him for a moment, saying nothing. Then she nodded. “Follow me. I’ll take you up to the Nine meeting room.” Her voice was distant and cold.
He didn’t care. At least not right now while he was trying to figure out where the hell his mom had gone.
They walked up into the forest, along a narrow path that wound its way up the hill through the trees. Eventually, they came to a massive structure built into the side of the hill. Missy led him inside the building and gestured toward a large door.
He entered the room and stopped abruptly. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows graced one wall, and the whole compound was laid out before him, like a picture. Even he had to admit it was pretty amazing.
“Do you want anything? A drink?” Missy was standing behind him.
“A drink would be great. Water, thanks.”
She left him there silently staring out at the view below him.
He tried to make it seem familiar, but this was one view that had no memories for him. But he’d been a small kid and had probably never seen this area. The lake, with its melting ice sheets, that was more familiar. He remembered sledding over the ice when he was little, running behind Rilla and the older kids, trying to keep up. He remembered big hugs from his dad, rides on his broad shoulders, his raucous laughter.
That laughter seemed to echo through his head, and for a moment, Zeph wished for a different childhood, one where he’d stayed here and had known his dad. His chest hurt and moisture came to his eyes. He brushed it away angrily. It hadn’t been his choice to leave. They’d been the ones to desert him when he needed them. It had been too hard for them to stay with him in the hospital, so they’d left him. His other childhood memories mostly consisted of uncomfortable hospital visits and stern doctors in white coats.
He shook his head, trying to dislodge the memories. That wasn’t what this was about. He wasn’t here to reconnect with his childhood or try to understand the Carnival folk. Or even mourn his dad.
He needed to find his mother, and these people were more likely to know other circus people. They were the only lead he had at the moment, the best connection to his mother. He would stick around and get their help, because that’s what made the most sense. But as soon as they stopped being useful, he was gone. He glanced over at Missy as she reentered the room, her long dark hair not quite hiding the anger on her beautiful face.
And his departure couldn’t come soon enough.
***
Missy was holding it together with a piece of string. Seriously frayed string. She thought she’d had one crazy night with a great guy. But as per usual, something good had turned into a bad taste in her mouth. She’d almost slept with Rilla’s long-lost brother, who hated the Carnival and, by extension, her.
And now here she was about to experience a meeting of the Nine, when the last time she’d met with the majority of the people in the leaders’ group, she’d been angry and upset and had yelled at them. Which was part of the reason she’d been at the bar in the first place. That and the fact that Rilla and Jack hadn’t wanted to listen to her ideas. It wasn’t the right time to apologize, so she would have to go through the meeting with them mad at her as well. It couldn’t get more awful if she’d planned it.
She stood at the back of the room—arms folded protectively over her chest—and watched Zeph stare out over the Compound. He took a sip of water and closed his eyes momentarily.
Missy tried to be objective. He’d been right when she’d challenged him on his name. She hadn’t told him anything about herself. In fact, she’d gone out of her way to keep her true occupation a secret. She’d just assumed she was the only liar of the two of them. Turned out neither of them could be trusted.
All she could remember of Rilla and Zeph’s mother was a woman with dark hair and a slightly hysterical personality. Always calling the kids back in, telling them to wash their hands and not get dirty. The older kids had always sniggered a little at that. They’d figured it was their job to get dirty, especially as carny kids—they had a reputation to maintain.
“Hey, Missy.” Tami arrived, sweeping through the doorway, holding a platter of deliciously aromatic snacks. The Foodmaster placed them on the table, and Missy’s mouth started to water just looking at the array of offerings. Leaning forward, Missy grabbed a small quiche-style snack and took a bite. As expected the flavors burst into her mouth.
“Zeph Jolly. As I live and breathe,” said Tami. “I didn’t believe it when Rilla told me.” She went over to Zeph and made to hug him. He took a step back, his anger unfurling in Tami’s direction.
“Who are you?” he said.
Tami nodded. “She did mention you were a little pissed off. I’m Tami, the Foodmaster.” Tami took a step back and looked him up and down. “You always were an intense little bugger. I can see that hasn’t changed.” She grinned at him and then walked over to Missy.
“So this is a strategic rather than accidental retreat to the corner, then, Missy?” she said as she neared.
Missy glanced over at Zeph. “The sooner we figure out where his mother has gone, the better,” she said in a low voice.
“Not just his mother, Missy. Rilla’s too.”
Missy nodded at the reprimand. It was a good reminder; Rilla must be hurting as well.
The next person through the door was the Thrillsmaster Viktor, followed closely by Beastmaster Alfie and Buildmaster Davos. All three of the older men greeted everyone in the room but didn’t attempt to get any closer to Zeph or make particular comments to him, although Viktor didn’t stop staring, his bushy grey eyebrows pushed low over his eyes. They each took something to eat from the platter in the middle but remained standing.
Jack and Frankie arrived next, and Jack went straight to Zeph.
“Zeph?” He held out one hand. “I’m Jack Knight. Joint Ringmaster with your sister.”
Zeph hesitated but held out his hand in return and shook hands. It was hard to resist Jack’s brand of charm outright.
Frankie stood back. He was younger than Zeph, and Missy couldn’t remember if he’d even been born before Zeph and his mom had left the Carnival. From the way he was watching Zeph, she figured he was old enough, because he seemed to be comparing him to something.
Zeph looked at Jack. “Where’s Rilla?”
Jack looked around the
room then back at Zeph. “She’ll be here soon. She just went to check and see if Garth and Maddy had made it back yet.”
Missy’s heart skipped a beat. If Garth were here, then this meeting might not be so bad. She could count on his support. She crossed her fingers in a childish gesture of hopefulness and waited silently.
Five minutes later, Missy’s hopes were dashed. Rilla appeared in the doorway, and not only was Garth absent, but she’d brought Blago with her. He wasn’t technically a member of the Nine, so she’d been hoping he would be excluded. Missy clenched her fists and tried to keep breathing normally.
Rilla smiled at everyone and gestured for them all to take a seat around the large table. As they all moved to sit down, Rilla spoke again. “Thanks for getting here so fast. As you all know, we have a situation. My mother is missing.”
From her position at the table at the far end of the room, Missy watched Zeph’s head jerk up at Rilla’s words. She could see he didn’t think of it that way. But he didn’t say anything, just waited.
Rilla glanced over at Zeph, as if assessing him. “Now, this could just be a coincidence. A completely unrelated event to the problems we’ve been having. But I think the likelihood is it’s not. So I’ve invited one more person to this meeting to help us out.”
Everyone glanced over at the door as Tilly came in. Missy had played with her as a kid before she’d left and had only seen her around a couple times since her recent return. But she knew the story of what Tilly had been forced here to do. Missy’s gaze whipped back to Rilla. They thought the same people who were spying on them had Zeph’s mother?
Her eyes went wide. If that were the case, there was no guarantee… She could be dead already. Missy had heard the stories from Garth of the way they treated people. How they’d played Hugo into doing their dirty work. What they were still doing to Tilly’s sister.