by Penn Cassidy
Taking a step back, I looked at Theodore with wide eyes. “They’re like you.”
He smiled softly. To my surprise, the expression changed his entire face, and for just a moment, he almost appeared…approachable.
“Not quite like me,” he said, then he turned, sticking out an elbow for me to latch on to. I found myself complying without hesitation. “When I said nothing living can reside in the crossroads, I meant it.”
We made our way towards the tent. Apparently, we were still joining whatever was going on inside. I had no idea if Theodore socialized with the denizens of his carnival or not. From the look on Elly’s face earlier, I guessed not.
“And what about me?” I asked as we ducked inside.
Theodore held the dark flap aside for me to pass below his arm. I tried not to smell him as I brushed by his torso. I failed, of course, and hated myself for loving his clove scent.
“You are an enigma,” he said, letting the flap fall shut behind us, cutting off the moonlight.
We were locked in darkness now, the only illumination coming from a narrow crack in a parted curtain up ahead. He faced me, and it was only now that I realized how close we were. Theodore placed a curved knuckle beneath my chin, keeping my stare in place.
“A mystery that I fully intend on investigating every single inch of.”
His finger began to skim down the hollow of my throat, inching towards my collarbone, towards the top of my breast.
Swallowing thickly, it felt like he was holding me there. I couldn’t pull away, even if I wanted to…which I wasn’t so sure I even wanted to in the first place. It was just the two of us in this small space, and for a moment, it was like the world outside didn’t exist.
“You’re a trickster spirit, Theodore, so I hope you realize I won’t fall for this.”
Even as I said the words, they rang false. But I couldn’t let him know that.
“You think you have me figured out because of the legends you’ve heard?” He tsked. “That’s hardly fair.”
I shook my head. “I think I’ve seen enough to be cautious. I think you know a lot more about me than you’re letting on. The only thing I can't figure out is why.”
His smirk told me I was right. He did know more than he was willing to share with me right now, and I had to decide if I had the patience to play nice or if I needed to figure this out for myself if I ever wanted to leave.
“It’s a pity you stopped training,” he said, cocking his head slightly to the side. “You have such a natural affinity as a priestess. I hate to see your potential wasted.”
My stomach soured. “Yeah well, it wasn’t exactly my decision…”
There I go, lying again. Lying on behalf of Austin. It was like it came second nature to me now.
Theodore’s expression sobered, his silver eyes swimming with some emotion that refused to surface.
“You have more control over your life than you realize, Moria. Do you not feel the tether between you and my crossroads?” He gestured vaguely around us. “The tether to me?” he added.
Tether? I wasn’t sure what he meant exactly. I did feel a certain…fascination with the Carnival of Bones. It began as fear, which quickly morphed into awe and curiosity. But a tether…?
As I opened my lips to respond, I was interrupted by the smooth sound of jazz music emanating from the other room, as if the volume were suddenly turned up.
The moment between us was broken, and I took a sharp step backwards. Theodore let his arm drop, but in the thin light, I could see the small, satisfied smile on his lips.
He led me towards the music through several parted curtains, where light peeked in. The din of voices grew louder, along with clinking glasses and…something else.
When we stepped into the main room of the circus tent, the air was full of smoke that smelled suspiciously like weed and cloves. Old couches, chaise lounges, and armchairs that had seen better days were spread out haphazardly, with people draped over them.
The room was surrounded with elevated bleacher-like seating, but they were all empty, waiting for the crowds to fill them once again.
The inside of the tent was also white and red, and overhead were wires and wooden platforms where trapeze artists performed, their swings dangling from high above. Equipment of all kinds was strewn around the room as if abandoned after a long day.
There were about thirty people in the room, and some of them had stopped to watch curiously as Theodore and I moved in farther. Carneys, still dressed in their costumes, stared at me as if I were the strange one.
I spotted a group of three men in clown costumes gathered around a dice game on the floor, but their makeup was smeared all over their faces, like they’d attempted to wipe it off and gave up halfway through.
A couple of women were dancing sensually to the bluesy music coming from a record player on a small table next to a drink cart. The women were gorgeously made up, dressed in flapper costumes with sparkling fringes and bright colors. I assumed they were line dancers of some sort, or flashy assistants.
Then I spotted Elly. She was lounging on a chaise with a long cigarette perched between her fingers while Tony spoke animatedly at her side with a glass of whiskey in his hand. She was laughing at whatever he was saying and hadn’t noticed me yet. Idly she stroked the head of a black cat who sat on her shoulder as she slowly fed him jellybeans. Lafayette was watching me already, licking his chops, his silvery eyes sparkling with mischief.
It took me a few moments to hear low laughter and husky moans under the music and chatter. The smell of sex permeated the air—sex, perfume, booze, and smoke. People were coupled off, some of them lip-locked in their own shadowy corners, or laid out on sofas, grinding against one another, peeling their clothing off piece by piece.
Two women were pressed against a curtain in the back of the room, groping at each other as if they couldn’t get closer fast enough.
The public affection didn’t seem to bother anyone else, as if this was just another normal night. Up in the stadium seats, I could even make out the shadows of a distant couple fucking fast and hard. My stomach tightened, and my skin tingled.
This little party was almost cozy, if a bit unhinged, and it made me wonder if it was a nightly thing—a way for the denizens to burn off some energy, or maybe just a way to stave off the boredom of eternity.
I came to a stop on the fringes of the room, feeling Theodore beside me. He placed his hand on the small of my back, and I tried to ignore the way it burned through my dress down to my skin. But I kind of liked the way his touch made me feel. Being so close to him with the distant sounds of skin slapping against skin had me feeling feverish.
There was a raised rectangular platform set up on the left side of the room, and a couple of old card tables and chairs situated in front of it. The record player fizzled out as a woman took the stage.
She was dressed in a form fitting, black satin gown, and her hair was bright blue, styled in vintage curls that fell just below her collarbone. She wore lace gloves on her hands and four-inch stiletto heels that made her look so much taller than her already six-foot frame.
She began to sing with her eyes shut tight, and the voice that came out was husky, haunting, and entrancing. She sounded like one of those old speakeasy jazz singers you saw in old movies. I couldn’t help but to sway to the music.
Speaking of music… There was a grand piano to the left of the stage that I’d somehow missed before, perhaps because it was shrouded in shadows, while the woman was illuminated with a single spotlight. When I realized who was playing said grand piano, my chest felt tight.
Bael’s deft fingers danced over the ivory keys effortlessly, and the music they made was beautiful and seamless, accompanying the woman’s deep voice to perfection.
Theodore must have realized I was watching Bael, because I felt his fingers push into the small of my back a little harder than before. But when I looked up at him, he was also watching Bael. I couldn’t quite place the expr
ession on his face, but it was dark and maybe even a little bit irritated.
Their relationship confused me. I genuinely couldn’t tell if they were friends or enemies. It seemed like they tolerated each other at best, but it was tenuous. When I glanced back to Bael, his eyes were on me, a smile playing across his lips.
A drink appeared in front of my face, dangling from Theodore’s fingers. Forcing myself to ignore how fast he must have moved in order to go get it and come back without me noticing, I took it and sniffed. It was a Sazerac garnished with a lemon peel, just the way I liked it. The spicy, sweet smell was comforting.
I thanked him and took a few tentative sips. That much loved flavor hit my tongue, and I moaned, swallowing a heartier mouthful. Theodore watched me, and I tried to ignore the way his stare felt like a caress. Every single thing I did felt like some kind of test that he was waiting for me to fail.
When the drink was gone, it was almost immediately replaced with another. Again, he blinked in and out of existence within the span of a few seconds.
“Trying to get me drunk?” I asked with a small hiccup. “It’s not very polite to take advantage of a girl, you know.”
My tone came out cheekier than I’d intended, but it was out of my mouth and there was no snatching it back.
Admittedly, I was kind of a lightweight. I didn’t drink often anymore, especially since my miscarriage. Austin was the drinker, and it left a bad taste in my mouth after the last year of hell.
But what the hell did I have to lose? I was already on the brink of tumbling into the afterlife. Why shouldn't I allow myself to indulge in something frivolous?
Theodore gently flipped my hair over my shoulder, skimming the back side of his hand down the length of my neck. The touch startled me, but I didn’t pull away. He could probably feel the goosebumps pebbling my skin and the little hairs standing on end at my nape.
Stroking his thumb along my cheek, he leaned down and whispered into my ear, “When I eventually have you beneath me, you will not need that drink to loosen you up.”
My chest was rising quickly, as if I couldn’t quite capture a full breath. I could have choked on nothing but air.
The bodice of my dress felt tight, and my breasts were achy with need. How long had it been since a man made me feel physical need? Aside from Bael—but we weren't thinking about that right now.
Still, I wasn’t sure if he was trying to get a rise out of me or if he was being serious. How much was I willing to believe?
My heart apparently failed to heed that warning, and the rest of my body followed suit. Truth was, I was incredibly attracted to Theodore. Who in their right mind wouldn’t be? But I was also scared of him, of who he really was.
“What is this place?” I finally asked.
Theodore watched me sip my drink, his eyes seemingly glued to my lips.
“Even the dead deserve a little fun now and then,” he said. “The afterlife can become tedious unless you find things you enjoy to fill it with.”
“You enjoy music?” I asked, once again watching Bael.
Theodore huffed a laugh. “Oh, I adore music. Music is like fucking—”
I snapped my eyes to his in surprise. He was smiling wickedly.
“It can be slow and haunting, beautifully heartbreaking, or it can be fast and euphoric.” His eyes dipped slowly, tracing their way down my body. “And if you’re with the right partner…”
Suddenly, all I could picture was dark, smooth skin against mine, shining with sweat and tasting like the Sazerac in my grip. I could almost feel him touching me.
My skin felt clammy, and my heart raced. The look in his eyes was clear—he was interested in a lot more than he’d let on. There was no mistaking the heat swirling in those silvery depths.
That heat latched onto me and filled me with a sense of desperation, something in me demanding to be satisfied. I tried to push it down. I tried to ignore it.
“You’re thinking too hard,” he said. Gently, he placed a finger beneath my glass and raised it to my lips for me. “Relax. Tonight, you are safe.”
The spicy liquid hit my lips, and I drank indulgently.
Tonight, you are safe…
Did that mean every other night, I wasn’t?
We sat at one of the card tables below the stage for nearly an hour. I was content with my drinks and the music that flowed from Bael’s fingertips, though I could feel Theodore watching me nearly the whole time, and it made me want to fidget.
I tried my hardest to focus on the woman singing, but like a magnet, my attention was drawn to the piano. His eyes were constantly pinned on me, and at first, I’d glanced away nervously. There was something in Bael’s dark blue stare that unnerved me but in the best way. He was a tricky one to try and pin down.
I couldn’t help but remember the way his hands and his lips had felt on me that night in the fun house. How he’d made my body come alive with a simple touch and a promise. I wondered if Theodore was aware of what Bael had proposed.
But then I wondered… Why do I care what Theodore thinks? I don’t owe anyone anything. I could have fucked Bael that night against a mirror, and it wouldn’t have been any of Theodore’s business… Right?
Theodore lazily smoked that curled pipe of his that I’d seen him holding on the skiff a few days back. Clove scented smoke joined the spicy flavors of Sazerac and perfume. I realized it was actually pleasant and relaxed my muscles and nerves.
As the night wore on, my head began to clear, surprisingly. Even after four drinks, I felt okay. Several people had meandered over, called by the music, and were dancing, paired off in twos and threes.
They moved sensually slow, grinding their hips, caressing skin and lips. They seemed wild and carefree…and happy.
To the right of the dance floor were two women, bending every which way—contortionists in skintight leotards like the one I'd seen Elly wearing. It was like they didn't even have joints the way they folded themselves like pretzels. They chatted with each other, laughing.
My heart leapt when my eyes caught on a familiar striped pattern in the shadows. Over by the rows and rows of seats was a man lounging on the ground, drinking from a flask. His back was resting against a massive, real-life tiger.
How I'd missed that was a mystery. The tiger was sleeping, but it didn't seem to mind the presence of all these people at all.
There was an undercurrent of chatter from the other side of the room, where poker and dice games were still in progress and people lounged around in comfy chairs and sofas, talking and laughing.
It was an odd sight on the makeshift dance floor, since a lot of people were still dressed in their carney garb. To be honest, the entire inside of this massive tent looked like some kind of fever dream.
Men in three-piece suits danced with other men in trousers and suspenders who had tattooed arms and sweat coating their skin.
There were women in bright flapper dresses and others in tight leotards decorated in diamond or polka dot patterns.
Theodore was right about one thing at least—dancing was a lot like fucking.
On the fringe of the dance floor, there was even one lady with a full beard woven with colorful beads next to a man who had to be at least eight feet tall with one wooden leg. I wondered if it was real, or if it was just a part of the costume. What were the odds of having actual carney freaks at the crossroads?
Not everyone could be as beautiful as Theodore and Bael though. A couple people were downright homely. But there was a sensuality and otherworldliness to each of them that canceled that out, rendering them absolutely breathtaking.
It dawned on me that every one of these carneys were dead. They had to be. The realization had me eyeing each person carefully, trying to imagine what set of circumstances could have led them to their demise.
They were morbid thoughts, but I allowed myself to indulge. For the first time since arriving here, I was starting to calm down. After all, Theodore had said I was safe tonight, and Bael had p
romised me too. Logic said I shouldn’t trust a word out of their mouths, but of all the things I knew about the famous Met Kalfou, I never took him for a liar.
The music picked up, and the woman on stage became more animated. Little by little, several people had joined her around the stage, setting up various instruments and cutting in. The song was jumbled, but surprisingly, it worked. It was a mixture of melodies that somehow meshed together and became a party.
“You should smile more often,” Theodore said, breaking my trance-like state. I tore my eyes away from the dancing and found him watching me.
“Don’t you know women hate being told to smile?” Setting down my now empty glass, I did smile at him, though reluctantly.
Theodore’s silver eyes twinkled. “You have a beautiful smile…when you let yourself relax and enjoy the moment.” Reaching out, he brushed my hair from my shoulder. “Something tells me you haven’t enjoyed yourself in a long time.”
My smile dimmed, but I was surprised that the usual ache I felt when I was reminded of how bleak my life was these days never came. Instead, I just huffed in amusement at his perceptiveness. Whether it was some magical intuition or just keen observation, I couldn’t tell.
“My fiancé’s a dick,” I said, deciding I might as well just let it out. It could have been the alcohol fueling it, but I didn’t care. “Sometimes, I wish he’d just finish the job already.”
Theodore went still, and so did I.
Oops. Did I really just say that?
From under my lashes, I glanced at his face, which was so perfectly stone still, that he could have been frozen in ice. His eyes were still silver though, so that was a good sign. I think.
“He hurts you,” he said, running a hand over his scruffy chin. It wasn’t a question. He already knew.
“Sometimes.” I sighed, settling back in my chair. “He drinks a lot and—”
“A man who cannot hold his drink or his fists is not a man at all. He should have his hands removed for touching you that way.”