by Trudi Jaye
“Yes. If it’s Hugo Blue, I think his son is in trouble.” Rilla looked up at him with wide eyes. The wind whipped at her clothes, and the rain was watering down the blood oozing from her wound.
Jack nodded once. She was right. “I have to try absorbing his power,” he said.
Rilla didn’t take her eyes off him. “I think so, yes.”
“Where’s the closest caravan?” Jack glanced around, his mind racing. “I need paper and a pen.” He didn’t have much time. The storm was getting worse.
Rilla grabbed his arm. “Jack, you don’t need to write. You can do this without it.” Rilla’s voice was steady, but her eyes were fierce.
Jack swallowed. He looked over at the Carousel as it spun frantically, the wind streaming out of its center. “I’ll do my best.”
“I know you can do it.” The wind thrashed at her hair. “Let’s get out of the rain.”
They scrambled over to the control booth.
“What’s happening?” asked Frankie as he moved back to let them into the booth.
“I think Hugo Blue is using curse magic,” said Rilla.
Frankie looked straight over at Jack. “Can you soak it up, Jack?”
Jack nodded. He didn’t think he could say the words aloud again. It seemed too much. “What will happen to Garth if I do this?”
Rilla glanced at Frankie and then back at Jack. “I don’t know. But we have no choice. We can’t let Hugo hurt innocent people.”
“How do I start?” asked Jack. It felt like his blood was pumping at double-time through his body. What if it didn’t work? He took a deep breath, then another, trying to calm himself down.
“Just think about writing. What happens when you write?” said Rilla.
“It just happens. I don’t know how I do it.” Panic filled Jack’s head with a whirring jumble of half-formed thoughts. The wind and rain outside the small booth only made it worse. He couldn’t do this. No matter how much he wanted to save them all, he just didn’t know how.
***
Rilla saw Jack’s eyes fill with panic. She touched his arm with a steady hand. “Close your eyes and block out everything around you. Pretend you’re about to write it down.”
Jack closed his eyes, clenching his fists in front of him as he sat on the floor of the booth. The wind banged the walls and rattled the eves until it felt like the booth was about to fall apart.
Rilla peered out the window. The Carousel was still spinning out of control. The punters had backed away from the edge, out of the way.
As she watched, a teenage boy scrambled to the edge of the Carousel platform, climbing over the rails. “No!” she yelled, but it was too late: the boy leaped. Just as he was about to smash into the metal barrier surrounding the ride, a blur of green and blue flew off the Carousel, sharp claws grabbing the boy in time.
The dragon hovered unsteadily with the unconscious body clutched against its chest, then laid the boy gently on the ground, next to the Carousel. The body was motionless, the storm whipping at his clothes the only movement.
The dragon flapped its wings, gaining height. It lingered over the fiercely spinning Carousel, the storm winds making its flight shaky. As Rilla watched, the dragon dove back down, landing heavily on the roof of the Carousel, twisting and thumping over the surface until it found purchase with its claws.
The dragon lowered its body until it looked like it was carved into the roof, its glowing eyes staring out at the Carnival. It hurt to watch the dragon going around so fast, but Rilla understood its desire to protect the Carousel in some way. She felt it, too. “I have to go out there and tell them to stay on the ride. They’re starting to panic.” Rilla wavered as she saw the matching panic on Jack’s face. But a scream from the Carousel had her standing up. She had to get out there. “Jack, you can do this.”
Jack opened his eyes. “It’s not working.”
She bent down to hold his face in her hands. “You don’t need the crutch of the writing. This ability is inside you, and only you can bring it out.” She kissed him hard on the lips. “Do it now, or we’re lost.” She turned to leave, her mind on the people on the Carousel.
Frankie put one hand on her arm. “You said he was using curse magic?”
Rilla looked back, down into his dark eyes. “Yes,” she said. “He’s hurting his son.”
Frankie stood up. “I’m going to find the boy. If Jack here can’t work his thing, then at least I can stop Hugo hurting him any further.”
“Let’s go.” Rilla stepped out into the storm, her body immediately slammed by the strong winds, and she staggered. Frankie disappeared off through the rides, already focused on his hunt. She didn’t know how he would find Hugo’s son, but at least he was trying to help. She wondered how long Frankie would have before he was forced back into his caravan. If Hugo were successful tonight, perhaps he would be free of it forever. A chill ran down her spine, and it wasn’t from the storm.
Putting the thought out of her mind, she pushed her body into the wind and ran as fast as she could toward the boy who’d jumped. Climbing over the barrier, she crouched next to him. Her fingers at his neck found a sluggish pulse. She sighed in relief.
Looking up at the Carousel, she understood why he’d felt the need to jump. The ride was spinning even faster now. Most on board were a shade of green.
How on Earth were they going to get them off there? She glanced up at the dragon as it spun on the roof, but how could it help? No one but the Mark and the Carnival folk could see it, and although it had picked up the boy, she knew it wasn’t something the creature could sustain for long. That had been a desperate leap by the dragon.
Rilla crouched over the boy, trying to figure out a plan. It seemed impossible. Where were Viktor and his team of engineers? They would surely know how to turn the Carousel off again.
Studying the sky, Rilla realized the storm covered the whole Carnival. Viktor was probably trying to solve whatever was happening in his own corner of their world. It incorporated everything that was bad about a storm: cold, wet, icy, and violent. Canvas whipped, metal screeched, and the screams and yells of the punters filled the air, both on the Carousel and farther afield.
They weren’t going to last much longer in this artificially produced storm. The wild winds were already pulling at the temporary buildings, shaking off hinges and destroying canvas connectors. There would be no miracle stories of survival.
Hugo Blue was planning to destroy them all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Jack held his hands to his forehead, pushing his fingers against his skull. He felt like he was trying to push his brain into cooperating with him.
Nothing was happening. He’d been worried about absorbing all the power, and now when he needed it, he couldn’t absorb anything. He couldn’t save the Carnival, and it was his own fault. He couldn’t use his power properly. Bile burned its way up his throat and he fought to keep down the food he’d eaten only a half hour before.
A body slammed into the wall behind him, and Jack flinched. He heard fingers scrambling to hold on to the side of the wall, moving closer to the entrance. He looked up, half-hoping to see Viktor or Rilla returning to talk him through this whole situation.
Instead, he met the manic eyes of Hugo Blue.
“A little birdie tells me you’re a blocker, Jackie.” Hugo’s voice was calm despite the wild weather. Wind swirled, lifting sand and straw into the air in a frantic pattern behind his head.
Jack shook his head, trying to clear it. How did Hugo even know what a blocker was? Then he realized. “A little birdie called Lucietta?” he said, attempting to stand. He needed to be on a level footing with Hugo.
Hugo shoved him back down and held out his hand, revealing a small handgun pointed straight at Jack’s chest. Jack stilled, his gaze focused on the steel of the gun’s barrel. He concentrated on breathing steadily. He needed to stay calm if he was going to survive this.
Hugo smiled, but no warmth showed in his eyes. “She
has her uses. For one, she got me into the Carnival when all my ancestors had failed. She and her strongman toy weakened the Carnival’s magic to such an extent that I have been able to break my family’s eternal ban.”
Jack frowned. “Why would you help her?”
“Help her?” Hugo was incredulous. “She’s helping me. I discovered who she was after she did a few shows with me. Then she recognized Frankie, and I knew I would finally be able to achieve my family’s goal.” Hugo waved the gun to emphasize his point.
“Frankie?” Jack tried not to wince when the gun passed close by his face. He needed to distract Hugo, get him talking.
“When his father died, Frankie led us straight back to the Carnival. At least, he led Lucietta back. I couldn’t see it back then. But we’ve been patient, bided our time while our inside man created a festering hole in the magic of the Carnival big enough for me to get through. And then your blocking pounded the final nail in their coffin.”
A crash sounded outside, and Jack instinctively moved to get up and help.
Hugo focused the gun back on Jack’s chest. “Stay where you are, Jack. You’re not going to interfere with my plans. It’s taken so long.” Hugo’s face hardened. “I’ve given up so much.”
“Like your son?” said Jack. “I hear that’s how your talent works. By hurting little boys.”
Hugo’s face became a tortured mask. “He understands. It’s the only way. I had to do it.” A vein stood out on his neck.
“You hurt the one person in the world who counts on you totally. You betrayed his trust. For what? What do you have against the Jolly Carnival?” Jack knew baiting Hugo was a bad idea. It was the opposite of what he should be doing with a crazed maniac—he could feel the rage building in the man in front of him. But Hugo had hurt his son, and Jack found he just couldn’t keep quiet.
“You know nothing! My family has suffered on the edges of society for almost three hundred years, scraping a living because of the false morality of this Carnival. We were thrown out like common thieves and left to rot at the side of the road. My ancestor Hamiltyn Fontainbleau vowed revenge using his own blood.” Hugo Blue looked down at Jack, a triumphant light in his eyes. “I’m the first member of my family to have successfully achieved it.”
“You’ve successfully wasted your life on a useless vendetta. You’ve destroyed your son’s life,” Jack said grimly.
Hugo’s eyes darkened and his finger twitched on the gun. “I have no more destroyed my son than my father destroyed me. My family has been gathering knowledge for the last three centuries, pulling together generations of study and research. I know every facet of my power. You know nothing of your family, your talents.” Hugo sneered. “Not even how to properly access your blocking abilities. You’re worse than useless.”
Jack tried to ignore his outrage at Hugo’s too-close-to-the-bone comments. “You shouldn’t put so much value in a family legend. I doubt it’s even the real story.”
“My family has passed down the truth of what happened to Hamiltyn. We have kept his blood vow alive.”
“But those people are long dead. They have nothing to do with these innocent people.” Jack gestured at the punters outside the small booth.
“Family is all we have in this world. My ancestors suffered because of the Carnival. I’m here to even up the score.” Hugo’s eyes took on a frenzied gleam. “I care nothing for the idiot punters here today.”
Jack knew he wouldn’t be able to reason with Hugo. But he still couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “What about your son? How is hurting him protecting your family? What did he ever do to deserve what you’ve done to him?” He wasn’t entirely sure what Hugo had done to his son, but he didn’t think it was good.
Hugo paled, his skin sweaty in the darkened booth. “I did what I had to. Simon understands.”
“You’re not upholding family. You’re perverting it.”
Hugo narrowed his eyes at Jack. “You know, I’m getting tired of your moralizing.” He stood up and backed away slightly, holding up the gun. “Goodbye.”
As Hugo pulled the trigger, a smaller body slammed into him from the side, ramming him into the wall. A gunshot rang out in the booth and a grunt sounded as the bullet hit flesh.
Jack glanced down at his chest. It had been his grunt, his flesh.
He’d been shot.
He looked up. Hugo Blue was lying on the ground with Rilla standing over him, holding the gun to his head. “If Jack dies, I’m going to shoot you through the head,” she said quite clearly in the middle of the noise of the storm. “Now, stop the storm.”
Hugo Blue lay sprawled in front of Rilla, his eyes boring into hers. “It’s too late; it can’t be stopped. I have scattered my power out into the universe and it must run its course.” His face was a mask of unholy elation.
Rilla towered over him, the gun only inches from his face. “I said stop it now, or I will shoot you. Don’t think I won’t.”
Jack considered her expression; she meant every word. He had to do something fast or she was going to end up shooting the crazy bastard.
He closed his eyes again, trying to narrow his focus. All he could feel was the bullet wound. He restricted his thinking to the pain, holding on to the intense throbbing that found its center in his side. He put one hand over his blood-soaked shirt and pressed. A wave of agonizing pain swept through his body and a groan slipped from his lips.
“Jack? Are you okay?” Rilla’s worried voice calmed the waves of pain inside his head. He flowed with the tide down a long, dark tunnel. The waters were getting deeper and wider as he went farther into the tunnel. Jack let himself follow where his subconscious was leading him.
The flow of pain turned into a river of power. He heard a thundering noise up ahead and warning bells went off. But it was too late. He came to the crest of a giant waterfall of energy and tipped over the edge, plummeting in a tumble of life over death. He hit the water at the bottom with a clap of thunder that reverberated around him, both inside his head and outside in the Carnival.
He stood in the shallow waters, not hurt, but glowing, feeling immensely powerful. There were other waterfalls all around him, all flowing into this one place, filling this one pool with the power that surrounded him. The waterfall he’d fallen down was the largest, and Jack knew this was the energy being wielded by Hugo Blue.
It continued to crash down around him, and soon the small pool had become a lake and the water was up to his knees, and then his thighs.
He had to do something with the water. It needed to be released, like a gate at a dam, or he was going to drown in a sea of power.
Jack searched around him, but all he could see was water filling his small internal landscape, rushing up toward his neck. He wondered absently if this was what Garth had gone through. Did it feel like he was some kind of cork floating on an ocean of power, uncontrollable and immense?
The thought made him shudder.
A voice far away called to him, and he knew he had to get back. But first, he had to release the water. Where could it go?
Suddenly, pain expanded through him again, and he felt his body jerk upright. The agony burned bright in his water prison and lit his body with an orange heat.
Water around him began to evaporate, pushing up into steam even as he watched. Could it be as easy as that? He raised more heat, concentrating on drying out the water, stopping the storm of energy that surrounded him. It evaporated just as fast as he could burn it off. Soon there was nothing more than a stream cascading through the pebbles in his mind.
Somewhere in the distance, he heard a voice calling his name.
And then there was nothing.
***
Rilla dropped to her knees beside Jack. He’d succeeded. The storm outside the small booth had died as suddenly as it arrived. Buildings that had moments before appeared as if they might fly away with the wind now stood strong and durable. The Carousel had rolled to a halt and the punters stumbled off. They were solemn, not hyst
erical as they should have been after the ride they’d just endured. There was vomit on clothes and bumps and bruises on their faces. They wore looks of confusion as they stared around them. It was like they knew something had happened, but they couldn’t figure out what.
Inside the booth, Jack had gone from sitting up stiff as a board, clutching his side, to slouching lower and lower. Then he’d collapsed like an empty sack onto the floor. His skin was cold and pasty and his eyes were glued shut.
His face was boiling hot under her hand. How was she supposed to revive someone who’d just absorbed all that power? Rubbing his hands, she said his name over and over, tears running down her face.
She heard movement behind her but ignored it. Jack was dying on the floor of the booth; she couldn’t deal with anything else.
At his side, blood was staining his shirt, leaving a widening red circle. Rilla pulled it open, trying to see the wound. The hole in his side was still visibly gushing blood. She looked around and saw a jacket hidden in a basket under the dashboard. She grabbed it, scrunched it up into a ball and placed it over Jack’s wound, applying pressure.
“Rilla! Jack!”
Rilla turned at her name. Behind her, the booth was empty. It took a moment to realize why that was bad.
Hugo Blue was gone.
He’d shot Jack, and she’d let him get away. “In here!” she yelled, fighting to keep down the tears.
Footsteps pounded outside and then Viktor and Henry were looming in the doorway. “What happened?”
“He’s been shot. Hugo Blue shot him.” Rilla could feel her panic rising. She was holding on by a thread. “Jack stopped the storm, but I think it was too much for him. I think he’s dying.” A sob choked its way out of her throat, and she bent her head over Jack’s chest.
She felt a strong, comforting hand on her shoulder and then she was being shuffled to one side. “Let me have a look at him, lass.”
She sat to one side as Viktor checked Jack’s pulse and then his wound. “It’s almost stopped bleeding. We need to get him somewhere we can clean him up… without the punters seeing us.”