Wringing her hands, she marched off, leaving behind the screaming sounds of Jacob taunting anyone who tried to persuade him to behave. Even with her head held high and her eyes straight ahead, she moved blindly, unable to focus on anything outside of her own thoughts. They were fragments of memories, mostly. Flashes of her old living room. Fleeting images of green beans resting in a pot of water. The gun. Her mother collapsing to the floor. Blood. She remembered expecting to see more of it. She remembered waiting, her gaze morbidly captivated by the small stain on her mother’s blouse. Annis had waited for the stain to grow, but her mother had been bleeding out through her back, lying in a puddle no one could see.
“Tulip,” Babe called out, reeling Annis’s racing thoughts back into the present. “Come and help me with these ties, would you?” Babe was struggling to fasten the silver corset she was wearing over her billowing red gown.
“Of course,” Annis agreed, grateful for the distraction.
“If you could just fasten it here at the back, that would be lovely, Tulip,” Babe said, spinning around to show Annis exactly where she required her assistance.
“I’ll have you all set in a matter of seconds,” Annis promised, getting to work on it even as she spoke.
“Thank you, Tulip,” Babe said, twisting her wrists the way she did every night to warm them up before she played her harp. Next, Annis knew, she’d begin working each individual finger. Babe’s warm up usually mesmerized Annis. Tonight, however, even the soothing, repetitive motions of Babe’s ritual couldn’t hold Annis’s attention for long.
Just as soon as she was finished getting Babe’s corset bound tightly and its laces tied in a delicate but secure bow in the back, she could feel her own heart rate begin to pick up again as her breath shortened.
“You’re all set,” she told Babe, walking around to face her.
“As are you.” Babe leaned in closer to her, cradling the side of Annis’s face in the palm of her hand. “You remember that story I told you the first day we met, don’t you? About Basileus?”
Annis nodded. That story had stayed with her every moment of every day since. “He’s a survivor.”
“He is,” Babe said, nodding softly. “But you don’t survive simply by persistence alone, Tulip. To survive, you fight. Sometimes the beast is death itself and at others it’s a more tangible enemy. No matter who you encounter in your moments of travesty and devastation, you stand up and you fight.” She gave Annis’s cheek an encouraging squeeze. “Because you, Tulip, never give up.”
Annis smiled through the glistening of tears welling in her eyes. “The wild ones never do,” she whispered.
“Never.” Babe reached her hand around Annis’s neck, bringing her in for an embrace before she released her, never letting on the depths of their conversation to anyone around them. It was better that way. Annis was certain she couldn’t take even one more heart-to-heart talk with anyone who owned a piece of hers.
“They’re all spread out,” Mabel hissed, coming up to stand beside Annis at the curtain. “We’ve been peeking in on them from the main entrance. All the coppers are in their seats. Trying to blend in with the audience.”
“It’s working out about as well as it does for Sawyer anytime he tries to fit in with other adults,” Maude said with a snort.
“Talk about a low blow,” Sawyer muttered, never missing out on an opportunity to be in on the joke. “Height jokes are utterly uncreative and ought to be beneath you.”
“Like you?” Mabel chirped, and then giggled.
“Joke’s on you, Smalls. I was referring to your lack of maturity, not your lack of height.” Maude stuck out her tongue at him for good measure.
“I’m not sure any of this is suitable material for jokes, to be honest,” Annis said, watching the curtain swish back and forth with the commotion backstage. Its movements revealed a glimpse of the audience every other second or so.
“If we waited for material to be suitable, we’d hardly ever have a good giggle,” Maude pointed out. “The joke is made, Annis. We create the humor, we choose to laugh. You know that.”
She did. And Maude was right. She had a choice. Always. She could be scared tonight. She could give in to the swell of tears choking her or she could choose to laugh at the utter absurdity of the situation. She, formerly Emmeline, now Annis, was performing in a circus tonight while her father’s best friend, her mother’s husband, and the overall family murderer, sat in the audience, hoping to arrest her, provided he didn’t still have any misguided hopes of marrying her.
Annis couldn’t conjure up a more ridiculous tale if she tried.
“You look confused,” Mabel said, frowning.
“Just trying to decide which I find more disturbing. The thought of being arrested or being proposed to before the night is done.” She grinned, because laughing at the absurdity made her feel strong. He laughter reminded her of her own power to choose, no matter what the circumstances. Whether she laughed or cried would always be up to her.
“Oh, definitely the proposal,” Bess jumped in, offering up her most disgusted grimace before falling into soundless laughter beside the others. A few more rounds of obscene humor carried on before the show was upon them, and all that it would bring was set into motion. The first hour of the show passed in what felt to Annis like seconds. And then Annis was stepping out into the ring.
Even before she could see him, she sensed he was there. A heavy feeling in her gut spread through her and a cold chill spilled down her spine. But she refused to entertain not one of her body’s betrayals of fear. Instead she devoted all of her energy to her performance.
When the time came for Annis to request an assistant from the audience, she knew how it would turn out. William would relish the thought of making her squirm before the audience, but she would never deliver him the satisfaction. And so, when he stood to volunteer, she offered him the same rehearsed welcome she gave everyone who accepted the challenge.
“It’s not a tough job, but don’t be fooled. It is very, very important,” she told him, her eyes wide and her mouth pursed dramatically. Even as his gaze bore into her, a sneer resting on his thin lips, she allowed herself no flicker of recognition or flash of fear. She simply carried on as though he were no more significant to her than any other volunteer she called into the ring.
With narrow eyes, William went along with her act. He went along with binding her up in the chains she handed to him. When he was nearly finished and closest to her face, he hissed, “You don’t really think a little makeup and a silly costume are enough to hide you from me?”
“I think you’re confusing this part of the act with another, sir,” she said politely. “I won’t be vanishing, simply escaping. They sound similar, of course,” she smiled. “But they’re not.”
He pulled his head back and ground his teeth before he said, “Don’t care what you call it, you won’t be doing either,” he growled, snapping the final lock into place.
“Obviously you haven’t seen my act before,” Annis said before stepping up to the water tank and dropping herself inside.
She’d hoped William would be so startled that he’d run to yank off the curtain keeping her hidden from the audience. She was not disappointed. Keeping her eyes locked on his the entire time, she moved steadily in the water. One by one she undid her restraints until, at last, despite his prophecy, she broke free and burst through the water’s surface with a triumphant shout.
By show’s end, the police did not surge in from all around or start questioning the crew. As Annis and the others crowded around the small gap between the curtains, it seemed the remaining officers were rather unconvinced they had reason to be there at all.
“Sir,” one of the men in uniform said to William. “Perhaps it’s best to end the night early. Not waste any more time pursuing this lead. I think it’s clear to everyone here that it’s simply a matter of coincidence the two young women appear so similar.”
“Absolutely not,” William ins
isted, drawing himself up taller and letting his jacket flap open just enough to make visible the badge he kept clipped inside. “There are not two women, deputy. It’s her. It’s Emmeline, and I will see her taken into custody tonight.” Powerless in his rank, the officer stepped back and motioned for the others to go ahead with their original plan.
“Get away from that curtain this instant,” Babe hissed when she caught them all. “This is no different from any other night, you hear me? We break down, we load up, and we leave. Same as always. Their business isn’t our business until they make it such.”
Caroline pointed to the back opening of the tent and the two officers leading the way inside. “I think they’re making it such,” she said in a hushed voice, clutching tighter to Homer’s hand.
“Annis,” Sawyer grunted. “We’ve animals to tend to.” And he spun on his heel, marching on toward the lions’ cages. The two rarely worked together after the show’s end, but Annis understood his cue and followed quickly in his steps. Lions and wolves roaming loose tended to keep outsiders at a distance. And distance was safest for Annis.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did my elbow get you in the face? I didn’t see you there. Left eye’s no good, you see,” Annis heard Poppy say loudly.
“Perhaps your right eye will be of better service then. I’m looking for someone, a girl named Emmeline Sanders. I believe you know her,” William’s deep voice boomed for everyone to hear.
““I’m sorry, there’s no one here by the name of Emmeline Sanders,” Poppy answered, matching his volume while still maintaining the same air of obliviousness he’d expressed over accidentally hitting William in the eye. Something Annis was positive, had been purely intentional, poor left eye or not.
“Annis, then,” William snarled. “Or do you suppose it’s coincidence your illusionist shares a face with my murder suspect and a name with her victim?” he demanded.
“Says here your victim’s names were Sarah Lynn Sanders and...Anny?” Annis watched from behind several crates filled with animal props as Poppy read aloud from the wanted poster.
“Anny was all we have on record for her. She grew up a slave and apparently remained on as housekeeper even after she was freed,” one of the deputies explained.
“Annis,” William insisted. “That’s what Emmeline called her. Not Anny. Only one ever called her that was Peter’s father. He’s the one who would have put it down as such when he gave her as a gift to his son as a wedding present.”
The conversation made Annis’s stomach turn. She’d known of course, about slavery, how her family had come to add a housekeeper to their family, but it hadn’t ever felt to her as callous as William now described the situation. He spoke as if the woman who’d been at Annis’s side from the time she was a baby were less than human, something more akin to the teddy bear Annis dragged about with her until it became too ratty and was then thrown away.
“Don’t go getting hung up on what they’re saying about your Annis. The world likes to give names to all sorts of things and people,” Sawyer said under this breath. “They hardly ever get it right though.” He nodded toward the lion enclosure where Roderick and Phryne were anxiously pacing about, ready to be moved to a more spacious, private area. “Let’s start with them. Finian will be at your heels the whole time, anyway. If that doesn’t remind people to give you a fair amount of personal space while you move about, nothing will.”
“You know,” she said, watching him unhook the latch that kept the lions’ door locked. “There are moments my head wants to explode just hearing some of the asinine things you say to push people’s buttons,”
“And?” he grunted, reaching inside the enclosure and coaxing Phryne toward him as though she were as intimidating as an average house cat.
“And there are others when my heart swells with gratitude just knowing you’re my friend.”
He sighed as though he were experiencing physical pain. “Girls.” He rolled his eyes. “Here, take one of your lot and start walking her over that way, so I can get Roderick out next.” He handed her a rope that served as a leash, which he’d tied around the lioness like a body harness. Annis had seen him do this night after night, but she’d never once been asked to participate by holding onto one of the leads herself.
“Are you sure she won’t mind?” Annis asked, feeling anxious.
“You really think I’d go out of my way to save you from your crazy stepfather only to have you get eaten by one of my lions?”
“Suppose not.”
He snorted. “No, suppose not.”
Annis gripped the rope tightly, though she couldn’t help but have mixed feelings about her actions. Part of her couldn’t deny it felt wrong trying to ensure she and the lioness could not be separated. Even Finian was careful to keep a wide berth around the two as they began their walk from the tent out to the train’s animal cars.
“There, it’s her!” William called out as Annis was nearly at the exit. “Stop her!” he demanded of the officers guarding the only way in and out.
“Sir,” stammered the one to Annis’s left. “The lion?”
“You have a gun,” William snarled. “Use it if you must.” Even in all his fervor, it was hard for Annis to miss that he was making no efforts of his own to get closer.
“If you even try to reach for your weapon, I promise you Fin will have your arm before you even touch the trigger,” Annis warned, pointing at the wolf whose watchful eyes darted about, being sure not to miss a single detail as his charge passed through. “If you want a word with me, simply ask.”
The deputy nodded, visibly gulping. “Ma’am, a word?”
“After I get the lion to her car,” Annis replied as though she hadn’t a care in the world and like this was all business as usual. Then, to prove she was setting the terms of their interactions, she stepped through the opening between both officers and disappeared outside.
As soon as she felt the cold night air hit her face, she heard a scuffle of noises from inside the tent behind her. She kept moving forward, walking toward the end of the train. Phryne’s safety was at hand now and she would see to it the lioness was out of harm’s way before William decided to put Fin’s reflexes to the test himself. If any bullets should fly tonight, Annis would see to it she remained the only target.
“No one believes him,” Sawyer said as he caught up to her beside the train, with Roderick in tow on a long lead that allowed him more freedom than some might find comforting while walking alongside a grown lion. “All the other officers are looking at him like he’s nuts for still insisting you’re Emmeline Sanders, the timid and troubled rich girl who shot her own mother. All they can see is fierce and fancy you, Annis the Alchemist.” He chuckled. “To be fair, I’m a little confused myself.”
“About which part?”
“The part where this fool believed anyone would ever mistake you for the little waif he wrote you up as. It’s his own fault they all think he’s crazy now. He should have depicted you more accurately from the start.”
Annis handed over Phryne’s lead and walked up the ramp to pull open the sliding door to their car. “I don’t think he knew how different I’d be now.”
Sawyer paused just as he was about to walk inside, looking at her curiously. Then, without saying a word, he smiled, shaking his head as he moved into the dark of the lion’s den with both big cats following close behind. A moment later he was out on the ramp beside her again. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.” She saw no reasons to keep secrets now.
“Your name. The name you chose, I mean. If Annis’s only real name on record is Anny...Where did you get Josephine Watson?”
Annis smiled. The name had come to her without a conscious thought. “Jo Watson was a character Annis made up. Every night, she would sit on the side of my bed and tell me stories, the grand adventures Jo had. She couldn’t read, see? Not until I could, anyway. Once I learned, she learned, but before, all the years she couldn’t, it never stopped her f
rom sharing a bedtime story with me.” She turned toward Sawyer. “Before Annis took the part for herself, Josephine Watson was my hero. She was everything I ever wanted to be. She sailed the world on her ship, braved storms, outwitted pirates, and always had a laugh at the scariest and most intense moments of her stories. Didn’t matter what she was faced with, she never gave up. She never quit trying until she succeeded.”
“Makes sense,” Sawyer said, guiding her to step left and avoid a patch of ice that had formed over the course of their show. The temperatures had dropped tremendously in recent days.
“Why no one’s ever heard of an Annis Josephine Watson?”
“No.” Sawyer shook his head. “Why Annis Josephine Watson is exactly who you turned out to be.”
Annis felt a rush of emotions and the lingering pressure of them on her face, weighing down on the bridge of her nose and above her cheekbones. “You’re being exceptionally kind to me tonight. Why is that?”
“I’m always kind,” he said. “I’m just not nice about it.” Then he sped up, taking the lead as they braced themselves for whatever was waiting for them back inside the tent.
Annis could tell as soon as they walked in that even in the short time that they’d been absent, several things had happened. One, the only people remaining in the tent with the police were the handful of faces Annis had grown most familiar with in her time at Brooks and Bennet. The twins, of course, along with Sequoyah. Poppy and Babe were leading the conversation with two of the police officers. Off to the side, pretending to be exceptionally busy with the dagger collection used in Homer’s act, were Homer and Caroline, accompanied by Bess, August, and Goldilocks.
The second thing she noted was the energy. Gone was the tension that had made it hard to breathe before. Now, the air had shifted to one of conflict as William’s frustration increased. He was trying repeatedly to make his point about the resemblance between his wanted poster and the Annis the Alchemist’s circus flyer. And third, though it almost escaped her, was the silence. Aside from the set of voices still carrying on a heated debate about her identity, there wasn’t a sound to be heard.
The Wild in her Eyes Page 31