Vagabond Circus Series Boxed Set

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Vagabond Circus Series Boxed Set Page 22

by Sarah Noffke


  “Sebastian,” Finley said. “He secretes an oil from his skin and it’s lethal. A drop of the poison is enough to cause cardiac arrest to another person.”

  “That’s his gift?” Titus asked, completely perplexed.

  “Yes, and the poison stays on objects,” Finley said. “That’s how he kills his victims but I’ve been wiping down things where I saw he’d left poison. Also Dave wore gloves, so that prolonged him. But Sebastian obviously found a way to get the poison on Dave.”

  “Jaz,” Zuma said in a hush, the realization entering her mind. “Was her illness Sebastian’s doing?”

  Finley nodded. “Yes, he delivered the letter from Titus. I’m sure he hoped it would make contact with Dave’s skin at some point, but Jasmine touched it first.”

  “But it didn’t kill her,” Zuma said.

  “It obviously wasn’t enough poison,” Finley said. “Paper is a poor carrier of the oil. Fabric is much better, as Sebastian can soak more of the oil into it, ensuring it’s a deadly dose.”

  “And when you ran off, after Jaz passed out?” Zuma said, remembering every detail of that memory.

  Finley nodded. “I was trying to stop Sebastian, but he had already disappeared.”

  “And that’s why you wouldn’t help me carry Jaz?” Jack asked. “Because you knew she had poison on her?”

  “Yeah,” Finley said, dropping his eyes with shame.

  “I could have been poisoned too though,” Jack said, repulsed. “And you were just going to allow it?”

  “What was I supposed to do? It all happened too fast.”

  “You could have told us there was a murderer in our midst,” Jack said, his voice cold. “Told us to be careful.”

  “It wouldn’t have done any good at that point. You had to transport Jasmine and I figured she’d be fine since she was still breathing,” Finley said, his eyes earnest on Jack. “And I then knew that Dave realized Jasmine had been poisoned, although he was wrong about the means, so I thought there wasn’t any reason to blow my cover.”

  “Dave knew?” Titus said, unconvinced.

  “I think he had an inclination,” Finley said.

  “And all those thefts?” Zuma said, her question directed at Finley, but her eyes unwilling to look at him.

  “Yes, also Sebastian,” Finley said. “He’s Knight’s perfect kid, a born thief and murderer.”

  Titus turned to Jack. “Go to Fanny’s trailer and I want—”

  “Sebastian is gone,” Finley said. “I heard him go.”

  Titus scrutinized Finley. “You realize this doesn’t look good for you, right?”

  “Yes,” Finley said, sliding both hands over his head. But Zuma knew he was telling the truth. She could see it in him so plainly and wondered how she hadn’t seen he was hiding something so unforgiving.

  Titus turned back to Jack. “I want you to go still. Confirm this and alert Fanny, but keep this quiet. No announcements until I investigate.”

  Jack nodded before turning away and running off.

  Titus carefully entered the trailer. Zuma, behind him, willed herself forward. She felt like she was floating and might drift into something laced with poison at any point. Finley watched her carefully, ready to bolt forward and protect her if she got too close to a wall or piece of furniture. They stood in the trailer, too close to each other and too close to Dave’s stocky dead body.

  “We can’t see anything,” Zuma said.

  “No turning on the lights,” Finley said, wadding up his shirt and wrapping it around his fingers. He was just about to use his swaddled hand to find a light when Titus put his hand on him.

  “No need for that,” he said and he laid his palm out flat and a bright orb of fire lit up in his hand.

  “Whoa, what’s that?” Finley said.

  Titus’s face didn’t shift, but he still looked eerie under the glow in his hand. “It’s my gift. I illuminate.”

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  The scene that came to life in front of Finley, Titus, and Zuma emptied each of them of all words. Dave lay on the ground, face down in his usual jacket and slacks. Finley watched Zuma, who was cradling her arms.

  Titus scratched his head. Finally he said, “What happened here?”

  “He was poisoned,” Finley said, feeling irritated. “I told you.”

  “But how? How was he poisoned?”

  Finley scanned the figure and the surroundings illuminated by the strange orb in Titus’s hand that glowed like a fluorescent bulb. “Why is he wearing his top hat?” Finley asked. The ringmaster usually had it with him, working his gloved hands across the brim dispelling his nervous tension, but he rarely wore it unless it was during a show.

  “Oh, he just got it back,” Titus said, his voice removed, like he was speaking from a script. “He had a rip in it for the longest time, but he was superstitious about getting it repaired. Fanny finally convinced him and did the repair and she had…” Titus’s words stopped abruptly as his face fell slack.

  “Fanny had Sebastian deliver it, didn’t she?” Finley said.

  “Yes, he dropped it off at the office this evening,” Titus said with a small shiver. “And Sebastian didn’t say a word, just laid the hat on the table top and smiled.”

  “And Dave wore it home, probably happy to have it back,” Zuma said, her eyes lost.

  “Yes,” Finley said. “Sebastian could have drenched the inside rim of the hat with poison. There’s no way that part of the hat wouldn’t come in contact with Dave’s skin. It would have been the perfect vehicle, since I know Sebastian was running out of ways to get the oils on Dave.”

  Titus shook his head with frustration. “All things if we knew about we could have prevented,” he said, not staring at Finley, although the remark was directed at him entirely.

  Finley now looked back at the last several months and realized he’d made fatal errors. He always thought he could manage the situation. That he could protect Dave. That at some point he could stop Sebastian entirely. But once he set eyes on the big top and Zuma he wanted to have it all. He didn’t want to compromise, although he saw now that coming clean from the beginning would have saved Dave’s life. How had a noble gesture turned so wrong and made him a villain? His eyes swiveled to Zuma and he realized she was never going to trust him. Not like she did before.

  A quick presence entered the trailer, startling everyone but Zuma.

  Jack stood in the doorway, breathless. His eyes fell to Dave’s body and then flew away at once. “Sebastian’s gone,” he said between inhalations. “We have to go after him.”

  “It’s no use,” Finley said, defeated. “He would have had someone waiting for him. He’ll be down the interstate by now.”

  “Then we have to call the police to investigate this,” Jack said irately.

  “They won’t find anything,” Finley said without inflection. “Sebastian’s poison isn’t traceable. It’s an oil that hardly registers on tests. And it produces something that looks like a heart attack. When they find a man in his fifties like this they’ll call it cardiac arrest and close the books. Believe me, that’s why Knight uses him.”

  “Then we go after him ourselves,” Jack said.

  Finley realized that everyone was looking at him this time, waiting for his response. “I can tell you where he’s going. Where the compound is, but it’s guarded, it’s going to take more than we have to get in there.”

  “You’re not a part of ‘we,’” Jack said, tearing across the space and almost stepping on Dave to lean over Finley. “We will simply tell the police that—”

  “You’re going to tell them this was foul play when there’s nothing to suggest that it was?” Finley said, a cold laugh in his voice. “Are you then going to say a kid with super powers is responsible and he’s in a warehouse in LA? Yeah, I’m sure they’ll run to help. While you’re at it, tell them you belong to an elite race known as Dream Travelers. I’ll visit you in the mental hospital.”

  “The hat though,”
Titus said. “What if we have it taken in for evidence?”

  “Well, if the person who investigates the evidence doesn’t die from exposure then they probably won’t find anything of use either,” Finley said, now speaking with such confidence that he had everyone’s attention. “Sebastian is untraceable. His poison is so similar to natural body chemicals that it doesn’t trigger any alarms.”

  “Then we tell them we have a lead on Knight’s Kids,” Jack said. “If Titus is right about them being associated with hefty crimes then they’ll want our tip-off.”

  “You think Knight doesn’t know how to dodge suspicion?” Finley said, shaking his head. “He has his act down. The police knock at his door and all they find is a warehouse full of sailboats in various states of disrepair. They meet a cordial man who offers to take them out sailing once he gets one of the boats going again. There isn’t a trace of evidence. Nothing that would cause a judge to issue a search warrant. He doesn’t have his kids out where they can be seen and I don’t even know what he does with the things we steal. We never see them again after our job is done.”

  “So then what do we do?” Zuma asked, cradling her arms in tighter.

  “I don’t know,” Titus said, the orb still lighting up the trailer and their faces. “I need time to search this place and figure this out, but I definitely don’t want the authorities or the circus alerted until I have time to think. I can do some time travel while sleeping tonight and try and learn what was going on, but I’ll have to be careful.”

  Dream Travelers can go back in time to witness certain events, but it’s exhausting, difficult, and can lead to a schism in a person’s consciousness. All Titus would have to do is accidentally pick a time when his consciousness was present in that reality and he’d scar himself forever. Past self-interaction was never advisable and illegal in most societies of Dream Travelers.

  “Titus, I can help you,” Zuma said, but her voice sounded defeated as she stared blankly at the dead body before her.

  “Thank you, but I think the fewer people involved the better,” he said to the girl. “For now don’t breathe a word about this. We’re just going to close up this trailer and pretend we haven’t found this until I have more time to investigate, all right?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “All right, Finley,” Titus said, sending his eyes in his direction. “I’ll need you to write down where this compound is. I’ve got to figure out how we are going to go after Knight and the location is key to the strategy.”

  Finley ground his teeth together, his eyes cast on a dark corner. “I’d love to, but as you might remember I can’t write. Thanks for reminding the group though,” he said.

  “Right. Sorry,” Titus said at once. “Follow me back to the office and give me the information, would you then?”

  “Sure,” Finley said, stepping out of the trailer. He waited until Titus and Jack stalked past him, leading the way to the office. When Zuma moved by him, he stuck out an arm to block her. “You have to know that I thought I was doing right. I’m sorry. Please don’t—”

  She pushed his arm down with a brutal force and stepped in closer, putting her nose even with his. “I didn’t love anyone more than I loved the man inside that trailer. He represented everything that was right in my life. And you, whether you meant to or were just too much a coward, ripped that away from me. I won’t ever be able to tell him how much he meant to me and that’s your fault. Since you entered this circus, you’ve cursed it, Finley,” she said, her words spilling out of her in an angry mess.

  “Zuma,” he said, reaching for her, knowing she couldn’t mean all this.

  She marched past him immediately. Jack reached out and shoved Finley back. “Lay off her, man. You have to realize you’ve put this on yourself. Don’t make it worse with false apologies.”

  And suddenly all of Finley’s past behaviors at the circus seemed wrong. He thought he’d been strategic, playing things just right. But now he realized that everything he did wasn’t considered normal or serious by these people. He’d been trying to protect himself, and them, by not opening up. And now they didn’t trust him. Couldn’t trust who he was showing them now, which was his true self. How had Knight won again? How had Knight swept in and taken everything dear to him yet again?

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  The group marched to Titus’s office tent. Zuma really thought she’d go in there, but as she neared, she realized that she couldn’t. She needed to get away from all things that reminded her of Dave. As her eyes skirted around the trailers, she realized that was going to be difficult. This grief felt impossible and yet, she hadn’t even begun to deal with it. What she wanted was a break. A reason to get away from this group. She needed to be alone. Jack was in front of her, marching with his shoulders high, and he was beside an also tense Finley. Titus led the group.

  “So what did you steal?” Jack asked Finley, not sounding curious, but rather intimidating.

  Zuma noticed Finley’s head drop. She didn’t know how she could love and hate someone so much, but that’s how she felt for Finley right then. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and tell him he was good enough and also shove him down and kick him in the ribs and tell him he was no one to her. The competing desires ripped at her, tearing her into pieces that could never be sewn back together.

  “Everything,” Finley stated without inflection.

  “Elaborate,” Jack said as they walked.

  “Stuff,” Finley said, easily keeping pace. Zuma thought it must have been difficult for him to move with normal-speed humans since he always had the option of super speed, which she felt was more natural for him. “Cars, money, jewels, artwork…you know the stuff people steal. The stuff of value.”

  “So you stole whatever that guy told you to?” she heard Jack ask. She wished he’d stop. Leave Finley alone. No, the guy wasn’t perfect and had done something unforgivable, but it was doing irreparable damage to her insides to hear the extent of his past. Maybe that’s why he kept it from me? she thought.

  “I did whatever he told me to,” Finley said matter-of-factly, “until I realized I could think in my own head, but that took some time. I’m certain none of the other kids ever got there. I have an advantage on them though.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Jack said, scoffing at Finley. They were nearly to Dave and Titus’s office. “Of course you can always think in your own head.”

  “Ever heard of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs?” Finley asked.

  “Of course. How have you, without reading?” he asked and didn’t sound like he was trying to insult as much as having a burning curiosity.

  “I’ve spent a lot of time dream traveling, once I realized I had the skill. I’ve learned by listening to others, by attending lectures at Ivy League universities.”

  “Uhhh…why didn’t you use that time to learn how to read?” Jack asked.

  “Because it was more important to me when I entered Vagabond Circus that I sounded educated, rather than actually being educated,” Finley said.

  “That’s pretty smart,” Jack admitted. “But what’s your point, about Maslow?”

  “Well, when your basic needs aren’t met then you don’t ask questions. You do whatever you’re told to get to that next meal. You do whatever you’re told as long as you aren’t beaten. You may be able to find your own food or fight back, but until you get to that higher level then you don’t know that,” Finley said.

  “So the prisoner remains in chains until they realize there aren’t any chains there in the first place…which doesn’t happen if they’re never given sight?” Jack asked in a hush of poetic disbelief.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Finley said, turning his head and startling at the sight of Zuma behind them. He had thought she was farther back or had stopped off. His eyes rested on her for a moment before she sent hers to the ground.

  “You said you had an advantage on the other kids. What was it?” Jack asked.

  “Knight can’t get in my head,”
Finley said.

  “Like the way you keep Zuma out?”

  Finley tensed at the mention of her name, knowing she was just behind them and listening. “Yes, but he doesn’t read thoughts.”

  “What does he do?”

  “He gets into kids’ heads and causes them the worst pain, apparently a headache like no other. With the right motivation he can cause an aneurism.”

  “What?” Jack said, completely grossed out by the idea. “That’s how he controls the kids?”

  “That’s part of it,” Finley said, his voice calloused. “He isn’t normal, not like most Dream Travelers. He’s different. Stronger.”

  “But why doesn’t his power work on you?” Jack asked as they walked, their pace slow in the dark.

  “I don’t know,” Finley said. “I’ve always had a permanent shield built into my head it seems, but Knight doesn’t know it. I pretend his skill works on me. I pretend to be in pain when I know that’s what he’s doing.”

  “You’re good at acting, aren’t you?” Jack said, cold contempt in his voice.

  “Look, man, I did what I had to, to survive. I don’t expect you to understand.”

  Jack ran his eyes over Finley’s face, still so unsure what to make of him and all he’d shared. “So the other stuff Knight does to get compliance…did he starve and beat you?” Jack asked, and he wasn’t trying to pry unthoughtfully. He was trying to make sense of the person who strode beside him and had made so many fatal errors in the last few months.

  Zuma’s eyelids pressed together with a sudden memory. The three long scars down Finley’s back. He’d remembered how he’d gotten them after all, but he didn’t want to tell her who he was and where he came from.

  Finley threw another look of longing over his shoulder at Zuma, who refused to look back at him. “It doesn’t matter, does it? The point is that I’m here.” And screwed up everything, he thought to himself.

  Chapter Seventy

  Zuma stopped, her legs unwilling to bring her any closer to the miniature big top. Inside that tent, Vagabond Circus was created. Every single employee had sat in that office across the table from Dave and listened to his speech.

 

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