by Trudi Jaye
She made a face. “Don’t thank me yet. You have your first Ringmaster lesson with me tomorrow.”
He smiled and nodded before turning to go.
***
“Cast your gaze over there. Watch for the elephants.” Jack put his hands awkwardly out toward the second smaller ring. Spotlights pinned him to the middle ring, and his boots shone in the glare.
He stepped to one side and out of the light, leaving one foot still visible.
“Foot!” yelled Rilla from where she sat in the front row.
His foot moved out of the light, the spot went down and reappeared in the third ring, and Jack appeared in the center a moment later.
“Don’t you wish you could talk to the elephants the way our animal trainer Alfie can? He understands everything they say.” The spotlight moved to the left, and Jack scrambled to keep up. “Our next performer will amaze you with the lengths to which she will go. Raise your gaze to Barbarina on the silks!” He lifted his arm and looked toward the ceiling of the tent. The light around him went dark and the beams lit up above them.
A moment later, they came on again in the central ring, and this time, Jack was standing there ready to go. He executed a bow, his hand carrying his top hat down in front. “If you didn’t gasp as she flew through the air, you have no soul!” He took three steps to the right and the spotlight trailed him. “Now, follow me through the rabbit hole and see if we can convince our next act to give you her best performance yet.”
Rilla watched critically from the audience seating as he continued to bounce between the acts in the order she had given him. He was pretty mechanical, said the wrong things, and wasn’t quite giving the right impression. But it was only his second practice in the ring. The first one had been a complete disaster, and she’d sent him away to rote-learn the acts and the patter. Today, he almost had the order of the acts down, and he was getting better and better with what to say. He wouldn’t bring down the house if they put him out there tonight, but he was doing far better than she’d thought he would.
She waved up at Joey in the lighting box, and the full lights came on. “Start from the beginning again,” she said to Jack. “This time, do it in double-time.”
“Seriously?” said Jack, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I can barely do it at this rate.”
“You’ll have to think on your feet and move fast to keep up with the lighting. It has to be second nature to you.”
“I thought perhaps we might ease into it?”
Rilla’s voice hardened. “If you want to be Ringmaster, you have to be able to lead the ring.” If nothing else, he was damn well going to work for it.
Jack nodded, his face closing up. “Fine. From the top.”
Rilla stood and moved to the other side of the ring, choosing a seat in the corner. It changed her view of Jack and hid her from his line of sight. If he couldn’t see her, perhaps he would relax.
Another body slumped into the bench seat beside her, and Rilla glanced to one side. Missy. “Hey,” she said softly. “How you doing?” She hadn’t seen much of Missy in the last two days.
“Don’t ask.” Missy’s face was swollen and pale from crying. “How’s he going?” she asked, gesturing with her head at Jack.
Rilla shrugged. “Pretty well for a complete beginner.”
“We need more than a complete beginning in charge.”
Rilla narrowed her eyes at Jack in the center ring and just nodded her head. There was nothing more she could say.
In front of them, Jack continued with the show in double time. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the greatest experience in the world. Let us amaze you, delight you, and send you to the edge of belief!” He stepped out into the main ring, his Ringmaster coat tails flowing behind him.
Rilla bent one leg close to her chest, putting her chin on her knee and chewing absently on her fingernail. “Did you hear that he’s a blocker? His aunt confirmed it.”
Missy nodded. “Seems kind of risky. Keeping him around, I mean.”
“If he blocks everything, yeah. But we don’t know enough about it yet. They’re still searching the records at the Compound for us.” She hesitated. “I found an old journal with information about it, too.” A part of Rilla secretly wished that Jack would just start blocking them all. They wouldn’t survive if he took away their talent. He would have to leave. She had to sternly remind herself that she was being petty, and it wasn’t just about what she wanted. The whole Carnival was at stake.
“What does the journal say?”
“That it’s difficult. But I haven’t finished it yet. Stuff keeps happening around here.” She glanced at Missy. They still hadn’t found Christoph.
Missy just kept her eyes on Jack.
“It’s like someone is rubbing salt into an open wound, watching him out there,” Rilla said, gesturing with one hand. “He’s doing his best, but what does he know about being a performer?” Warm tears welled in the corners of her eyes.
“He can learn. What’s this? His third or fourth practice?”
“His second.”
“He’s doing pretty well. It’s in his blood. He’ll probably catch on pretty quick,” said Missy.
Rilla felt the start of a tension headache and rubbed her eyes. “What if he really is the best person to run the Carnival?” she asked softly.
“Then you need to get over it and move on.” Missy’s voice was hard, and Rilla winced. Missy could always be trusted to be blunt, even more so at the moment when she was worried about her father.
“Do you think Dad would have liked him?” she asked. Missy would tell her honestly.
“Abba liked most people, Rilla. That’s why everyone loved him so much. He was willing to give everyone the benefit of the doubt.”
“Probably why he had so much trouble figuring out who was doing the sabotage,” said Rilla softly.
Missy nodded and kept staring at Jack in the center ring. “It can’t have been my dad,” she said suddenly. “He wouldn’t hurt the Carnival.”
Rilla leaned over and grabbed Missy’s hand. “We don’t know who it was yet. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”
Out in the ring, Jack stumbled over a change and landed on his hands and knees in the sawdust.
Rilla smiled. “I have to admit, it makes me happy to see him do that. Am I a bad person?”
“Not at all. I’d feel the same way.”
“What would Dad have said?” She sniffed and wiped the residue dampness from her face.
“The show must go on,” Missy said in a deep voice, imitating Abba.
“No one person is more important than any other; we all work together to make it happen,” replied Rilla in a similar voice.
“No time for moping around or wishing things were different,” said Missy.
Rilla sighed. “Then he’d have given me a big hug and told me to get over myself,” she said. “But then, that was when there was still a Jolly in charge of the Carnival. He might not be so forgiving if he’d realized the Knight name was going up instead.”
Missy continued her examination of Jack in the ring. “What I don’t get is why is Jack even here? Why is he out there in the ring, wearing a secondhand top hat and shiny boots, trying to learn how to lead a show?” She frowned over at Rilla, her creased forehead showing a genuinely confused expression.
“I don’t know. I thought it was for his father in the beginning. But this is above and beyond.” Sometimes, when she looked in his eyes, Rilla saw a fiery core of steel that wasn’t given to backing down. Even now, trying to do the act in double-time and failing miserably, he stayed strong.
“There’s Garth,” said Missy, her face lightening slightly. She waved him over.
Rilla glanced toward the entrance where Garth had just arrived. She lifted a hand in greeting as well, but he ignored them both, heading over to Jack, who stopped his recital to greet Garth. He appeared relieved to have an excuse for a break. Behind him, the spotlights continued to flash on and off.
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“They’ve become friends,” said Rilla.
Missy nodded in agreement. “Garth usually has a good sense for people.”
“Except when he’s in a difficult Gift,” said Rilla, meeting Missy’s gaze. They both looked back at the two men in front of them.
As soon as Jack and Garth met at the edge of the ring, Garth’s whole body stiffened. He put his hands up to his head and gave a hoarse cry of pain. Without warning, he collapsed to the ground in front of Jack, writhing as if his body were on fire.
Rilla and Missy both shot to their feet and ran toward him.
“Garth!” Jack said urgently, his face panicked. He crouched beside his still-thrashing friend, putting one hand on his arm, as if trying to still his seizure through sheer force of will.
As soon as Jack’s hand made contact, Garth stopped moving and lay deathly still. His head rolled to one side and he stared vacantly toward Rilla as she ran toward him, her heart beating frantically in her chest.
She could see the whites of Garth’s eyes; his irises had melted back to hazel with a tiny black pupil at the center.
Their Giftmaster was ordinary. His power was gone.
Beside her, Missy screamed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Help!” yelled Rilla. She didn’t know if her words were aimed at Jack or someone else. “Garth’s hurt!”
Jack had immediately backed away, his expression shocked, but Garth hadn’t resumed the shaking, and remained deathly still. He didn’t move; his eyes were open as if he’d been stunned. But he was warm, and when she put her cheek near his mouth, there was a whisper of air against her skin. She took a deep breath to calm herself down.
Jack stood frozen at a distance, just watching Rilla and Garth with wide eyes. Whatever Jack had done, it had knocked out Garth and blocked his power.
Rilla struggled to calm the panicked thoughts swirling around in her head. They needed to look after Garth. “We need to take him back to his caravan,” she said, looking up at Missy and Jack.
“Is it okay to move him?” Jack asked.
Rilla touched Garth’s face. It was slack but still warm. “I’m fairly sure it’s your blocking powers, not something medical. Help me lift him up.”
Jack was white as a sheet as he carried Garth’s top half out of the tent, while Missy and Rilla carried his legs. They walked quickly along the outskirts of the empty Carnival grounds and into the sea of caravans in the Boneyard.
When Frankie arrived at a run from the direction of his own caravan, Jack stumbled slightly.
“What happened?” gasped Frankie, out of breath.
“Me,” said Jack grimly. “I happened.”
“Blocking?”
Jack nodded, his arms tight under Garth’s shoulders. They walked the rest of the way in silence.
Once they’d laid him on his bed and Rilla loosened Garth’s shirt, they stood back and stared.
“We need help,” said Missy. “I’m going to find someone who knows what the hell to do.”
Rilla wanted to argue with her, but Missy was right. “Okay,” she said. Missy turned and raced out the door. Rilla’s heart was still pounding hard in her chest, a heavy drumbeat that was threatening to overwhelm her.
“What happened?” asked Frankie.
Rilla glanced at Jack. “I don’t know. Viktor or Alfie will know.”
“It’s me,” said Jack, his eyes wide. “I can feel it. I’m sucking it out of him. I can’t stop it. I’m draining him.”
Rilla turned to Jack. “Calm down. It’s not your fault. Take a breath,” she said fiercely, trying to take her own advice. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, feeling slightly more centered.
She looked Jack in the eye, automatically trying to use her abilities to calm him down, to soothe the jumbled patterns. But there was nothing there. She was empty; even her connection to the Carnival was missing. She felt…ordinary. Her breath caught in her chest and she struggled to inhale for a second.
Her secret wish for Jack to start blocking had come true, and now she realized how truly awful it was.
Jack’s eyes bored into hers, his expression conveying he knew exactly what she was thinking. He was a curse. If he stayed with them, he would ruin them all.
At that moment, Viktor burst in through the door. “Out. Get out, the lot of you.” He frowned at Jack. “Go wait in Frankie’s caravan.” He turned to Missy, who’d returned just behind him. “Go get Barb for me.”
“We could help…” began Jack.
Viktor stopped him with a single look. “I think you need to leave, Jack. I can take it from here.”
They trooped out of the caravan in silence. Jack trailed off behind Frankie, his shoulders slumped in complete dejection.
“I’m going to check on my mom,” said Missy, her eyes haunted.
Rilla nodded and gave her a quick hug then raced off in the opposite direction, back to her caravan. She had to find out what had happened, how Jack’s power had affected them all. There has to be something useful in the diary. Otherwise, surely her father wouldn’t have hidden it?
In her caravan, she stood in the center aisle of her van, unable to sit down. She flipped desperately through the pages of the little black book, trying to find another mention of the blocking power.
The worst thing was she could feel the absence of her own abilities. They’d been weak for a long time, but the connection had always been there. Since Jack had taken over, they’d even been getting stronger again. But now she was empty, as if someone had sucked her dry; her very essence was gone. She shuddered. It felt like Jack was a vampire, feeding off her soul.
She took a sobbing breath and rubbed her hand across her eyes. Blood pounded through her head and thoughts flashed across her brain, making her head spin. What would happen to Garth if they couldn’t figure this out? What would happen to them all if they couldn’t find a solution?
Rilla thumbed through the diary and stopped on a random page near the end. It was just describing the day-to-day routine of the Carnival, nothing new and certainly nothing about Betty. It was almost as if she didn’t exist anymore. She turned back to the middle, where Betty was being punished for who she was.
I cannot bear it. Betty is getting stronger, and now even I am aware of feeling resentment toward her. Last night, the audience rustled as I spoke. There were coughs and whispers and one gentleman even removed himself to take some air. That has never happened previously, and I pray it never happens again. There was a vote of the Nine. It has been agreed that Betty must leave.
Rilla gritted her teeth. They made her leave? A sixteen-year-old girl out on her own? She stared out at the bright afternoon sun outside her window and saw the crest of the big top in the distance.
She’d seen other circuses and carnivals eking out an existence on the road. Living was slim, and it was a rough life. The Jolly Carnival had sometimes felt the pinch, and recently it had been much harder to make ends meet, but really, it wasn’t so bad. They had food, they had their big top, and they had caravans over their heads. They had far more than many.
She rubbed one stiff hand over her eyes, the truth leaking into her thoughts. They couldn’t survive being ordinary. They had never been normal, and they couldn’t start now. If she couldn’t find an answer to the blocking, Jack would have to leave, just like Betty.
It didn’t feel as good as she’d thought it might to come to that conclusion.
How long could they have Jack in their midst before he destroyed them all? Once their powers were gone, blocked, could they ever get them back?
Rilla took a deep breath. The thought of never recovering her abilities threatened to overwhelm her. Her legs buckled and she sat down with a thump on her bed.
The diary was uncomfortable under her leg and she pulled it out. Absently skimming through the pages, Rilla let the musty smell of the old book soothe her senses.
I do not know when I have ever felt so abysmal. No one would go with her. We sent a si
xteen-year-old girl out into the world alone, and none would accompany her. We are all too afraid, too scared of our own mortality, too frightened of the world outside, to stand up for one little girl. It made me sick to my stomach, but I stood there with the rest.
What have we done?
Rilla stood up again and threw the diary down on her bed, her thoughts spinning. No wonder her father had locked it away. It was useless. It gave nothing but bad news, told her nothing that would help. She needed to look somewhere else.
But she didn’t know where else to look. The Carnival itself? It was Garth who had that direct connection, not the rest of them.
She turned in a circle inside the caravan, wracking her brains as to where else she might find information. She glanced at a photo of her father on the wall, standing tall and proud in front of the Carousel. What would he do in this situation? Where would he go? She stared at him, trying to find the inspiration she needed, and stamped her foot in frustration when he didn’t answer.
It was up to her now; they didn’t have Abba here to think up crazy schemes to get them out of hot water. Tears floated in her eyes, and the picture of her father started to look like one of the kaleidoscopes they had as prizes in the sideshow strip.
All she could see was the blues of the Carousel, reminding her of the dragon that was holding court among the other creatures on the ride. As soon as the dragon had arrived, they’d known the Gift was going to be more challenging than usual—she just hadn’t realized they might lose everything.
The dragon’s eyes stayed in her mind, but it took a few more seconds to understand what her subconscious was trying to tell her. The dragon was another connection to the Carnival. If she could wake the dragon somehow, it might help her.
She grabbed the notebook and ran out of the caravan, sprinting to where the Carousel was waiting silently for the afternoon’s Carnival to start up.
Forcing herself to slow down, Rilla took a deep breath and strode over to the dragon on the far side of the Carousel. Standing resolutely before the motionless creature, she reached out a hand, hesitating a couple inches away. It was deeply ingrained that they should never touch the ride that was intended for the Mark. No one else ever rode it; none of the other punters ever saw it—it was like a magical blind spot in their vision. Only the Mark and the Carnival folk knew of its existence.