Circus Wolf

by Lynde Lakes

  He heard light footsteps and fixed his gaze on the path outside his window. He smiled. It was the luscious tiger queen.

  ****

  Keeping a smooth pace, Vance Skull followed behind Tigra. When they approached a refreshment stand, he made his move. “Please, Queen Tigra, wait up.”

  She smiled and waited. “What do you need, Skully?”

  “I thought we could grab a cup of coffee while I tell you about my idea for a new act.” He’d learned that with Tigra, it always had to be about business or she wouldn’t spare the time.

  “Okay, but it’ll have to be quick. I’m super busy and have a bunch of bookwork to catch up on tonight.”

  Blast her! Even after five years, he hadn’t been able to connect with her beyond the wary co-worker stage all the Carney and circus people share.

  “I won’t keep you long,” he said. “Just let me grab the coffee.” After the guy in the jaunty cap handed him the drinks, Skully led Tigra to an umbrella table and pulled the chair.

  He smiled his widest grin. “Your Majesty.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Thanks. Okay, now that we’re comfy, what’s your plan?”

  He winked at her. “I want to up the danger in my act and make the audience squirm.”

  The vibes arcing between them told him she found him attractive. Or was it just wishful thinking on his part?

  After he explained his no net idea, she crumpled her empty coffee container and said. “It sounds good, but our insurance carriers will want safety assurances. Draft a plan and get your partner to agree to it and I’ll see what I can do. Now, I must run.”

  “Okay, but how about taking time off sometime this week to do some sightseeing. There’s some great historical places nearby to see. I could rent a car and—”

  “Sorry, but I have too much to do.”

  “What about just a walk to get our bearings.”

  “I appreciate it, Skully, but I like to walk alone. It’s my thinking time.”

  He rubbed the throbbing muscle in his jaw. Damn. Her refusals might be due to her always being in a relationship with one guy or another. That was okay. He would win in the end. He always did.

  Waiting for her was worth it. One day he’d excite her passion and taste her blood. Then she’d willingly span lifetimes with him.

  Vance forced a smile. She waved good-by and took off running. He could easily catch her, but the timing wasn’t right. Patience was a hard earned virtue when it came to the Queen of Tigers. She was different than the others. The others were temporary sexual chattels. He didn’t require their blood to survive, but he had an enormous thirst for it. The act of killing wasn’t merely to fill his emptiness. His mundane victims, or dehumanized objects…actually his possessions…were there for his sexual pleasure and without remorse he tossed them aside at the end of their usefulness. He chose to look at his need for prey and revenge as a service to humanity; he fit into the annihilation part of the balanced cycle of creation, destruction, and re-creation. It made sense to him. His existence and intensity were locked irrevocably with death and revenge.

  To join with him someday, Tigra would have to surrender to his heart of darkness and die. That essence of the fatal attraction was the cost of the greatest sexual high and rapture she would ever experience and the additional gift of eternal life. He’d force her to accept, even crave and beg for his brand of eroticism. His human qualities made it easy to get close to her. His fortunate good looks and charm were part of his disguise. Yet, some wary instinct in her always made her pull back. He knew a solution, and when the time was right, he would win and they would begin their eternal dance. It sounded so exquisite; he was as tempted as hell to take action now. Maybe if he caught up with her…

  Chapter Six

  Tigra inhaled, trying to absorb all the sensual pleasures of her run through the low brown hills. She hungrily yet warily took in the sights and sounds, enjoying the magic. Wisps of fog drifted between the trees like restless ghosts, while an icy wind moaned a lonesome sorrow. This was a night to sit before a flaming fire, but the isolation of the night made it the idyllic and safest time to roam the rural landscape. Still, she didn’t feel totally safe. She’d had the prickly feeling she wasn’t alone in the wilds. Behind her dried branches snapped and leaves crackled. God, don’t let it be Skully. He could be a pain in the ass. Heeding the warning, she turned back toward the circus grounds, running full speed.

  Relief shot through her when she caught sight of the stilled, lightless Ferris wheel piercing the dark, cloudy sky. She keyed into the safety of grounds, yet the eerie feeling clung to her like tree sap. The arcade tents and the Big Top’s dim security lighting emphasized the deep shadows. Most of the caravans were pitch-black. Then she spied the lighted banner and an arrow of sorrow shot through her. Management still had the banner of her and Candy up. Her heart grew heavy, thinking about Rolo and Candy. The tiger attack on Rolo last week in Los Angeles was a human’s fault, yet the authorities put Candy down. It was so unfair. Someone had drugged her. Tigra shook her head; tigers were gentle and harmless except in those mysterious cases when unknown circumstances transformed them into man killers. But this wasn’t the case here. Someone out to get Rolo was behind this. The drugs the investigators discovered in Candy’s and Rolo’s stomachs, and bloody meat drippings on Rolo’s clothing proved that. She felt pressure building behind her eyes, then a lone tear slid down her cheek. She brushed it away. Quiet anger curled in her gut. The only other thing the cops needed was the name of the evil culprit who instigated the attack. But with no clear evidence pointing directly to a perpetrator, when their circus moved on to this location, the L.A. authorities moved on to another case. Now poor Rolo clung to life by a frayed thread.

  Thinking back at the accidents over the past couple of years, it seemed something bad happened to every man who had shown her extra attention. She and Rolo had become fond of each other through working closely together, but she was his boss and she hadn’t allowed the relationship to bloom into a romance. And it wasn’t just Rolo she guarded her heart against. Her loner flaw always battled with her mothering spirit. Locked into her dual nature, she knew the dangers of having a relationship with a man that included family and children. She fought any relationship that edged too close and threatened her heart. Years ago, she’d accepted that being born with a dual nature wasn’t within the realm of rehabilitation. And because Rolo didn’t set her pulse to racing, she’d felt the friendship with him was safe. Unfortunately, he’d proven to want more than her brotherly affection for him. Now he was close to death and she felt responsible for letting him go into the cage when his emotion raced out of balance. If he died, she wouldn’t stop until she proved who set off the chain of events that took his and Candy’s lives.

  Because of the series of other so called “incidents” the perpetrator had to be someone connected to the circus.

  She felt guilty for not putting up a stronger fight when the authorities appeared to lose interest in the case. If it weren’t for her absolute need to keep a low profile due to her closely guarded secret, she would have raised a huge ruckus.

  It was getting more and more risky for her to be associated with the circus. Rumors of thefts had also followed them. In L.A. it was a priceless painting. In San Diego it was a sterling silver vase worth several thousand dollars. Now, did the circus and its maze of tents and caravans hide the priceless golden arrowhead—and the identity of the thief? Each time a theft was uncovered the police came and questioned the closed-mouthed circus folks and carnies. And each time they left empty-handed. Whoever was behind the crimes had to be admired for their efficiency, intelligence, and self-preservation.

  The trail of thefts was minor compared to the sinister killings that followed the circus across the country. It became more apparent each day that either there was a killer among them, or the monster was a circus follower. Either way, she had to find a way to end his reign of senseless killing.

  There might even be more than one
killer in their ranks. Each time they visited a city the newspapers heralded alarm about a vampire in the area. Young, beautiful woman were bitten in the neck, drained of blood and left to die slow agonizing deaths or were outright slaughtered. The reporters in all their drama called the perpetrator a nefarious neckaholic and suggested it was either a vrykolakas, vampire, or a lycanthrope, werewolf to blame. Now, tigers had joined the list. They’d called gentle Candy a crazed killer. There was some mention of the Feds being brought in. She didn’t care if they brought in the military. She just wanted the killing to stop.

  Tigra touched her lips. Could a vampire or werewolf live and work among them? She recalled the eerie feeling of being followed earlier. No…no a demon traveling with the circus was too ridiculous, wasn’t it? What about my own secret? No, anything was possible. I’ll have to stay alert and wear a cross and carry a sharp stake. Or was that method of killing a vampire an old wives’ tale? She touched the silver cross Grandy had given to her for her thirteenth birthday. Tomorrow she’d start carrying a stake as well on her runs.

  She shook off her uneasiness. The circus was never totally silent and she felt warmed by the friendly sounds of animals moving about and their familiar grunts, whinnies, and growls.

  Her boss often said her humanness and gentle nature interfered with her toughness, a toughness needed in her line of work. She needed extra strength and fortitude to find a way to shield her circus family from the evil circling around them like vultures.

  She rounded the line of rigs and spied caravan thirteen, Rolo’s place. With him in the hospital in L.A. why were all the lights on? She frowned. Something was awry.

  It was too late to bother the boss. Maybe Coleman left a message on my cell. She headed for her caravan, grabbed her unit off the table, and checked it. She hadn’t taken her cell into the hills; the rolling mounds blocked the signal and rendered the unit useless. She pressed play.

  “I have a surprise for you,” Coleman said. “It’ll arrive at your office in the morning.”

  She frowned. Her boss’s surprises usually included something to make more work for her or upped the danger of her act. Maybe he’d found a replacement for Candy. He’d been trying to acquire a Siberian male, the world’s largest cat. Well, she’d worry about that in the morning. Right now she had other plans. She was about to leave, when she heard a rustling on the other side of the open window. She grabbed a hunting knife and slid it into her leg holster. “Lurk around at your own risk,” she said loud enough for any peeping tom outside to hear. Whoever he was, she wasn’t letting him scare her off. She had things to do before retiring.

  ****

  Skull returned to the circus grounds behind Tigra and lurked outside her window for a few minutes, hoping to see her undress. He could have connected with her in the wilds, but an inner wisdom had told him to hold off. It could have been a rapturous encounter there in the picturesque rolling hills. Or he could have dragged her to one of the nearby caves and taken her in darkness.

  No, with her, he wouldn’t hurry it; anticipation was part of the thrill. In a day or two, he would choose his next victim, create a telepathic bond, and use his mesmerizing power of hypnotism to go into the very soul of the poor helpless creature. He imagined the gory glory. His mind, his brain and hers would lock in psychedelic euphoria, and they’d soar to a wild and heightened erotic state. In that state, their brains would produce their own hallucinogens. It would be glorious…then would come his favorite part…the gore and his afterglow.

  ****

  Tigra stepped out of her caravan, tensed and ready for anything. She had to go to her tigers. Stripes and Sly were still upset and edgy over last week’s attack on Rolo and the disappearance of Candy. She wanted to get them out of the cages for a while. With the grounds quiet and deserted, she felt it was safe to walk them without fear of running into someone. And if she ran into the peeping tom, too bad for him.

  She put the tigers on special heavy duty leather leashes, and burning with curiosity, she headed toward caravan thirteen.

  ****

  Hugh stepped out the door of caravan thirteen and sat down on the steps, far too excited to sleep. At a ferocious growl, he looked up and saw two tigers straining at leashes held by Tigra Tortella, the Queen of Tigers. She no longer wore those exciting strips of fur, but the jeans and sweater were no less enticing. She wasn’t as big as her banner suggested. Could the petite version of the Queen hold back two giant lurching tigers? He stood, ready to take any needed action.

  Tigra glared at him with slanted cat eyes. “What are you doing in Rolo’s Caravan?” Her tone was devoid of friendliness and her sensuous lips curled like those of her tiger friends.

  A flash of annoyance rose and then rolled off of him. “Mr. Coleman assigned me this unit. I’m a new hire to take Rolo’s place until he returns. I’m supposed to report to you in the morning.”

  “To begin with, buddy, no one can take Rolo’s place. But if the boss hired you, I suppose he saw talents not yet apparent to me. What do you know about big cats?”

  He frowned. She had a crumby attitude but somehow the sexy tilt of her head and the saucy lift of her breasts made irritation and apprehension secondary emotions. He shifted and then said the first thing that popped in his head. “Mating is often a lively and seemly violent ritual among tigers—then after, they calm down and loll side by side.”

  “Don’t toy with me, Mr.… What did you say your name was?”

  “Didn’t say, Ma’am.”

  Hugh’s cool slipped another notch, making his heart pound erratically. He managed to smile. Damn. She was baiting him, but by hiding his irritation he’d strike a quicker blow than if he let her see how badly she’d gotten to him. “I’m Hugo Marshall Hall. I prefer to be called Hugh.” He stuck out his hand and, after glancing at the tigers, withdrew it. “If you don’t mind, I’ll wait until tomorrow to shake hands, when you’re not flanked with your pets.”

  “Good decision. What else do you know about tigers?”

  “They need love, care, and patient handling.” Probably much like the Queen herself, he thought. “And frankly, I hate to see them caged up.” Most of the time. But not tonight. He darted a wary look at the tigers. “Isn’t it a little dangerous to take big cats for a walk like domestic pets?”

  She threw back her head and laughed with a bitter tone. Her reddish-blonde hair was waist-length and wild. She’d approached close enough for him to see that her cat eyes were emerald green. She was dangerously beautiful. His hands sweated and he felt a facial tic near the corner of his eyelid.

  Her shapely feline beauty sent heat to his lower regions, but he was too uneasy to appreciate the experience. She and her cats looked as though they were about to eat him alive.

  “There’s no danger unless I shout attack.” Her words were a soft, seductive purr.

  Was her arousing tone spoken for a purpose other than to avoid alarming the cats?

  “Look, if my staying in Rolo’s place upsets you I can find shelter in the hills. I need this job and I don’t want any trouble. You’ll find I’m a hard worker and I’ll stay out of your way, if that’s what you want. Okay?”

  “Sounds like a deal.”

  As he admired her curves and feline slenderness, Hugh reminded himself she was a lifetime gypsy and he was merely a temp-gypsy, out to see the world before settling down.

  She bent and whispered something to the tigers. Her jeans and sweater molded to her slender, firm-looking body. The wool neckline barely contained her beautiful tan mounds and the kind of cleavage he’d love to get lost in. Testosterone flooded his system. He usually could control thinking of sex around a beautiful woman…at least two-percent of the time.

  She straightened, thrusting out her ample breasts. His heart raced and his heart wasn’t the muscle he wanted to exercise. He tried to keep breathing, tried to keep his heart from going into cardiac arrest, but the mental image of the banner with the tiger-queen in those two little strips of fur sent a new s
urge of heat to his groin.

  Oh, Lord, help me, he prayed silently. My lustful reaction is more dangerous than jumping off a high wire into a pit of fire. The tiger queen definitely isn’t the Sunday school-teacher type I need and looking to befriend. This wild woman who seems more comfortable with her tiger friends than people isn’t someone I should be interested in pursuing. What am I going to do? Everything about her intrigues me, fascinates me, including the defiant gleam in her eyes.

  Her features were delicate, yet her manner was as strong and disturbing as her “pets.” She glanced at him from beneath her lashes, flashing glinting sparks from those slanted emerald eyes. Then she turned away, leading the tigers with her. She glanced back over her shoulder. “Just stay out of the way of the tigers and we’ll get along well enough.”

  Chapter Seven

  Tigra prayed the morning’s stormy weather would clear by afternoon. Circus revenues couldn’t stand another dreary day. Her jumble of concerns for the circus, everyone’s jobs, Rolo, and her own well-being were like dagger-like hail on her nerves. Grandy, her adopted grandpa, always said her loner nature didn’t match her mothering instincts and one day soon her dual natures would whip around like a striking rattler and bite her in the ass. If being cautious and guarding her heart was a flaw, she felt too vulnerable to even attempt to overcome it.

  With her duality secret, learning to completely trust anyone probably wasn’t possible anyway. In self-defense, she had to continually grow as a woman, strengthen her back bone to the ultimate, and remain aware of all the signs of danger in time to ward off trouble. Her wariness had made her a loner and she tried to convince herself she liked going solo. Her complicated existence had been manageable up to now and the promises of improvements in her life professionally and financially were coming to pass. She glanced up at the calendar—it was 2010, the Chinese year of the tiger and according to those who studied such things, it was a year holding great promise not only for those born under the sign, but also for those with tiger blood flowing in their veins. With the fast pace of all of the astrological signs this year, she knew better than to make a hasty decision like the one she faced. In spite of the good things coming to pass, horrific incidents like the tiger attack on Rolo had created a dark cloud over her existence. Personally and romantically her life was on the downward plunge of the roller coaster and she didn’t need another complication.