by Trudi Jaye
Simon’s eyes filled with tears. “Why would they do that?”
“They realized how strong you are, Simon. Your pinky finger has as much power as I have in my entire body. And their little Carnival is struggling. They want to use you to make themselves more powerful—at the expense of you and your family.”
The boy put one hand to his head and pulled at his hair. Hugo kept his face open and stared with wide eyes at his son. He was confident he could make this work, but he needed Simon to believe him, to go with his father over this upstart Garth who’d just picked him up like he was a lost child needing a home.
Simon already had a home, and a father, and it was time for Simon to come back. He would get even with those who thought they could steal his son out from under his nose.
“I don’t know, Dad. They’ve all been so good to me. Garth’s been looking after me. Maddy’s been visiting. Alathea…” Simon’s face went a little white as he named the last person.
“A girl?” Hugo asked sympathetically.
Simon nodded.
“She might not be in on it. There’s a chance she likes you for who you are…” Hugo let the implication hang in the air.
Simon didn’t miss it. “You think…?”
“I’m sorry, son. But I’ve learned through hard experience how ruthless they are. I wouldn’t put it past them to convince a young girl to pretend to like you just to keep you happy.”
For the first time, large tears started to overflow from Simon’s eyes. “I don’t understand. I thought they liked me.”
“They do like you. Or at least the power you could bring to the Carnival.” He put one arm around Simon, bringing him in for a hug. It felt like such a long time since he’d been able to do that. The feeling of goodness welled up inside him, and contentment shimmered around the edges. He needed his boy, and he would do anything to get him back.
Simon turned and cried into his shoulder, hiccupping sobs that seemed as if his heart were breaking. Hugo patted his back softly. Simon couldn’t possibly have made attachments that quickly. It was just a childish need for self-pity. “Come now, Simon. We’re together again now.”
“I know,” Simon sobbed. “It’s just that I thought they were my friends. And they’re not…” He sniffed to himself, still letting his father hold him close.
“There is one little thing we could do. To teach them a lesson…” Hugo let the words dangle in the air.
Simon frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I’m still on the run. I can’t earn a living as a magician anymore because of them. They hurt you, then took you from me and lied to you about it. They planned to use your powers through trickery. We could teach them a lesson about dealing with the Blue family.”
“What kind of lesson?” Simon didn’t look at his father, just watched his fingers as they played with a frayed section of his jeans.
“I was thinking we could do something to ruin part of this big show they’ve got coming up. Just a little something that would make them understand they can’t take us for granted.”
“How?” Simon frowned up at his dad, clearly unsure.
“I don’t know yet.” Hugo rubbed his chin, pretending to think about it.
“Couldn’t we just leave here now? I don’t want to see any of them again.” Simon hiccupped on his outgoing breath.
Hugo patted Simon’s head. “Son, I need your help with this. They were very bad to me and they kidnapped you. This is just about giving them a little of their own medicine.”
“What do you want me to do?” Simon’s face was pale, tear lines still marring his cheeks.
“I need you to stay in the Compound for a little bit longer, and when I give the signal, I need you to do a couple small things to help me. Then we can escape away from here.”
“It won’t be too long?” Simon’s voice was small and scared.
“Of course not. I just need to get a few things in place, and then we can do it. Just to teach them a lesson.” And disrupt things enough to get inside the Compound and destroy the rest of them—but he didn’t think Simon was quite ready for that particular part of the plan.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“The boy is a liability to the Carnival. We need to get rid of him.” Milton’s voice was vibrant and clear, and it seemed to pierce right into Garth’s central core.
“No.” Garth looked around at the others in the Nine who had assembled on his back porch. “He’s just a boy. We’re stronger than that. Why are we afraid of one man?”
“From what I can gather, this one man almost destroyed the Carnival. He killed Abba. We don’t need that kind of attention.”
Missy stood up. “We have his attention already. Giving him Simon back isn’t going to make him stop. Simon might give him a reason to come at us, but that just gives us an advantage. We know he’s going to attack. We’re expecting it.”
“Do you really know he would attack? He’d be more likely to give it up, count himself outnumbered. If he has his son back, he doesn’t need to finish his little vendetta.”
Garth let out a frustrated breath. “Are you not listening, Dad? He was already focused on us and he’ll come after us again, whether or not we have Simon. And Simon’s a good kid. He’s not like his father. Somehow, Hugo Blue has managed to raise a good kid.”
“I don’t believe it.” Milton turned to look at Viktor. “And I know you don’t either. You weren’t born yesterday, Vik. You know the boy’s a plant as well as I do. He’s going to betray us all, sometime soon. And it will be our own fault for letting him stay amongst us.”
The silence pulsed in the air around them. Garth struggled to keep a damper on his rising temper. His own emotions mixed with Maddy’s; he could feel her anger adding to his own, pushing the notch even higher. She was angry with him and his stupid kiss the night before. It had been a mistake, but he’d been enthralled with the mix of emotions going around inside his head and the matching ones in her mind. He’d been soaking in them, like a bath filled to the brim with warm, silken sensations, surrounding his whole body in a cocoon of goodness.
It had been a moment of pure bliss.
Followed by another of pure pain when he realized it couldn’t be and he was only making it harder for them both.
For the sake of the Carnival, he needed to find someone else for her to love, and she would never do it if she were falling for him. He needed to stay away from her. He just wished his own heart didn’t feel like it was shattering at the thought of it.
But he could cope with a broken heart. What he couldn’t cope with was the idea of leaving the Carnival. And what he’d also recently discovered was that he couldn’t cope with his stupid father. He glared over at Milton where he was pacing across the small veranda.
“The boy has been with us long enough. He’s part of us now. We can’t just throw him out.” Alfie’s calm voice spoke over whatever Viktor had been about to say.
“I don’t say we just throw him out. We find somewhere to leave him, somewhere he can be safe until his father finds him. It ensures the boy is safe and keeps him from giving away our location to Hugo.”
It sounded so simple when Milton said it. Strange how his father could say such terrible things and make them seem rational. He’d never noticed that before.
“Simon belongs here with us. I know you think this is why you’ve been sent back from your half-death, but I promise you it’s not. I’m the Giftmaster, and I’m connected to the Carnival now, not you.” Garth watched his father’s face, and suddenly he realized. “You think the Carnival will make you Giftmaster again?”
Milton looked around with a strange expression. “Now, Garth, it’s not that I want to take it from you, but I’ve served my time at the rest home, and now the Carnival wants me back. It’s obvious.”
It felt like he’d been punched in the gut—Garth struggled to take in a breath as he took in his father’s confident stance. In Milton’s head, this was the only rational reason he’d been brought back
, and his own son be damned.
Only the calming effect of having Maddy inside his head allowed Garth to stay focused. It didn’t matter that she was still annoyed with him. He knew she cared for him and would never betray him like this. Garth took in a ragged breath, trying to muster the right words to counter his father’s beliefs—but he needn’t have worried.
“You have to be kidding me,” said Missy, her voice rising with indignation. “I might have been a bit younger than Garth, but even I can remember what a hopeless Giftmaster you were. And you haven’t changed; you’re still the same egotistical pig you always were. I don’t know why the Carnival has seen fit to bring you back from your memory-loss nightmare, but it’s not so you can make our lives a nightmare.”
He couldn’t have put it better himself.
“Now, my girl, that’s being a bit over the top, don’t you think?” Milton rolled his eyes at Viktor, clearly expecting support from that end. “You’re new to being on the Nine. I understand that. And it’s hard losing your parents like that. But there’s no need to take it out on me.”
Missy’s eyes bulged and her hands clenched at her sides. “You will not patronize me, you old goat. You are the one who hasn’t been around for the last five years, gathering dust in that rest home because the Carnival couldn’t trust you to look after your family or your responsibilities. If anything, you’ve been brought back to remind us of what the Carnival can do and the power it holds over us. It’s given you back your life, but it can take it away again at any time.” Her sneer was fashioned out of pure rage.
Milton’s face paled, but he didn’t immediately reply.
Viktor put one hand on Milton’s shoulder. “Now, both of you, there’s no need to get riled up. I think we can handle this amicably.” He frowned sternly at Missy and Garth. “Milton here is just trying to help in the only way he knows how. There’s nothing wrong with being passionate about something.”
“But he’s passionate about throwing a defenseless boy into the arms of his merciless and psychotic father,” said Garth, waving a hand toward Simon’s room. “Passionate about taking my position away from me.” He gestured at his own chest.
“I didn’t say he had the right of it. I just said there was nothing wrong with having an opinion. But that’s why we’re the Nine and not the One. We do this by consensus, not dictatorship. You know the rules. Everyone gets a say and then everyone gets a vote.”
***
Maddy opened the front door of Garth’s house and helped Simon through into the hall. His crutches tapped quietly on the wooden floors, and his pale features were missing the vibrancy she was used to seeing on his face.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she said.
“I’m fine, Maddy. Don’t fuss over me. I’m not a little kid.”
She sighed. He’d been like this ever since she’d picked him up from the square where she’d agreed to meet him.
She could hear the faint rumble of voices around the back of the house and hoped Garth was coping with his father’s interference. She was still mad at him. He was still an arse. But she hoped he was okay.
“Come on. Let’s get a hot chocolate and join them on the porch.”
“‘Kay.” His one-syllable answers were beginning to get on her nerves. What had happened to change his attitude so much? What had Milton said to him?
She led the way to the kitchen, silently fuming at the stupid old coot. No wonder the sodding Carnival had put him under, if that was the kind of crap he pulled, being mean to kids.
She flicked on the kettle and grabbed two cups out of the cupboard. “I suppose we should ask them if they want something as well,” she said.
Simon shrugged. “I’ll ask.” He levered his way out of the room, the soft padding of his crutches masked by the mutter of voices on the porch. Maddy stopped to listen properly; there were more than just Garth’s and Milton’s. Multiple voices rose in argument, and she realized it was a meeting. She stuck her head around the corner, a slight frown on her face. Should she let Simon interrupt them?
But Simon was already just outside the door. She saw him lift his hand to open the handle and then hesitate as a booming voice rose above the others.
“The boy has to go! You made the wrong decision bringing him into this house, and the longer he stays, the worse it gets. He needs to leave the Carnival. It’s the only sensible option, and if you can’t do it, I can.” Milton’s voice carried clear and easily around the whole house.
Maddy stiffened and then ran to the end of the hall. Simon stood still as a statue, one hand in the air, staring at the closed door. The voices were talking over each other now, none of them distinguishable from the others. But they’d heard enough.
“Come on, Simon. Let’s go to your room.” She put an arm around his shoulders, and he followed without resistance. His body felt small and frail, like a tiny wounded bird.
She set him up on the bed and crouched down in front of him, putting a hand on each cheek. “Garth would never let them do anything like that, Simon. You know he wouldn’t. Milton is an idiot.” She watched his face closely, trying to figure out if he really thought they would do it.
Simon blinked. “He told me. But I didn’t really believe him. Not really.”
“Who? Garth? I’m sure he told you that you could stay. You know he would do anything for you, Simon.”
Simon’s gaze flicked up to Maddy, settling on her face with disconcerting directness. “How well do you really know Garth, Maddy?”
Maddy’s heart leaped into her chest as she thought of Garth’s strange behavior, his hot-and-cold reactions to her. Did she really know him that well? “I know him well enough to know he’s a good person. And he cares for you, Simon.”
“They’re in there plotting to throw me out. That doesn’t seem too caring.”
“That was Milton.”
“Garth’s dad. My dad says the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. And if that’s true, then I don’t know if I want to be in Garth’s house anymore.”
“We are our own selves, Simon. Our parents may have some influence on us, but we choose who we are, and Garth is nothing like his father. I don’t think you’re the same as your father, either.” As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t. She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the fact that she’d been disparaging of his father.
He glanced up at her, his eyes sparkling with tears. “Dad always says I’m just like he was at my age. I want to be exactly like my dad.”
Maddy patted his arm. “I know, Simon. I know,” she said. “And that’s a very noble sentiment. But you should allow for a little bit of leeway to be your own person as well. And to allow for the possibility that Garth might not be the same as his father.”
“How long have you known him? Less time than me, and I’m not sure about him. How can you be sure he’s not just the same as his father?”
“I’m sure. He cares for you and that’s not false. Whatever happens, I know he’ll protect you. And if I’m wrong and he falls through, then I’ll take up the slack. You’re not alone.” The words seemed to echo inside her head, and Maddy felt like she was promising something important, something more than she was grasping just at that moment. It felt like she was swearing an oath to Simon.
“I know I’m not alone, Maddy. I’ve never been alone.” Simon’s voice was little more than a whisper, but there was a terrible thread of finality in it. “I’m tired. I think I should get some sleep.”
Maddy put her hand under his chin, lifting his face to look in her eyes. The expression on his face had her worried. “You have me, Simon. Whatever else, you have me to count on. You know that, right?”
Simon’s eyes widened slightly and then he nodded. “Yes.”
“Okay. I’ll leave you to sleep, then. But I’ll be back to visit tomorrow.” She patted his leg through the blankets.
Simon nodded tiredly, one hand coming up to rub his eyes almost absently.
Maddy reluctantly left
the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Then she looked at the door down the hallway. Marching toward it, she could still hear voices arguing with each other, one over the other, none allowing the other to be heard. Her anger escalated the closer she got so by the time she slammed it open, she almost felt like there was a red mist swirling in the air around her. And maybe there was.
The room was filled with senior members of the Carnival, all waving and talking at once. Slowly, one by one, they quietened down and stared at her as she stood smoldering by the door. She clenched the door handle to keep from yelling like a child.
“In the future,” she said through gritted teeth, “if you’re going to have shouting matches about throwing a homesick, lonely boy out into the streets, taking from him the only safe and secure place he’s had since his amnesia, then grant me this—do it away from the house in which he lives!” She emphasized the last few words, keeping her voice low but her meaning clear. She wanted to scream in rage at them all, these idiots who’d hurt a boy so easily, without thought.
Garth stepped forward, his face white. “I didn’t know you were home. Is he okay?”
“He heard Milton saying he wanted to throw him out. So, no, he’s not okay. He’s fragile, young, and susceptible to emotional angst, especially given the unstable nature of his condition.” She turned to Garth’s father. “You should be ashamed of yourself. I thought you would understand that better than anyone else in this room, Milton. I preferred you with no memory. At least then you were charming. Now you’re just mean.” She slammed the door shut behind her and took a deep breath, trying to calm the rage undulating through her body. The door opened again, and Garth looked at her, his all-black eyes like hard flint in his face. He stepped around her and went to Simon’s room, knocking on the door before going in.