Vagabond Circus Series

by Sarah Noffke

  “Well, hey there, Jacky, did I wake you?” Sunshine said, wearing a cunning look. “Oops,” she said, no remorse in the word. She held a tray of food in front of her. The girl slid it onto the table next to his bed. Then she motioned him forward. “Go ahead and sit up.”

  Jack regarded her like she was a new species who had just materialized for only him to see. Sunshine’s long black hair hung next to her pale face and she was wearing her costume for her pyrokinesis act. It was a sleeveless teal blue leotard and a skirt that was made of neon green chiffon pieces that hung unevenly, some ending at mid-thigh and others trailing to the ground in the back.

  “Sunshine?” Jack said, doing as he was told and putting his hands under him to drag his legs back with him as he sat up.

  “Oh good, pretty-boy-hot-shot actually knows my name. Afraid there for a second you were going to call me Rain or Windy.” She grabbed a pillow from the couch beside his bed and slid it behind his back as he made to lean forward. “Here, this will help.”

  Jack pressed back into the pillow. It did help to support his sitting position. “Of course I know your name. We’ve been in the circus together for three years.”

  Sunshine had the tray back in her hands and didn’t ask permission before laying it on Jack’s lap. “I’ve been told to feed you,” she said like she’d been assigned a torturous chore.

  “I thought I was supposed to sleep.”

  Sunshine rolled her green eyes. “Yes, smart guy, to survive we’re supposed to sleep. However, humans also eat and drink, and pretty soon you’ll need to piss, but that’s not in my new job description so don’t get your hopes up. I’m not helping you with little Jack.”

  Jack looked at the quinoa and curried vegetables in front of him. He wasn’t at all hungry.

  “New job description?” he said, picking up the fork

  “Yeah, on top of being absolutely incredible, but also a reluctant performer in this circus that has been accosted by the devil himself, I’m also Fanny’s new helper.” Sunshine said all this in a monotone voice. “I’ll watch the kiddos when she’s caring for you and then I’ll watch her big kiddo”—she indicated to Jack—“when she’s doing their lessons and other things she prefers to do for them. Fanny apparently doesn’t want to spend too much time away from her rugrats even though healing you is time consuming and draining for her.”

  Jack deposited the fork back on the tray. He dropped his gaze as well.

  “Oh no, now I’ve gone and made you feel like a burden. Oops,” Sunshine said, again no inflection in her voice.

  Jack looked up at her. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…”

  “It’s exactly that. I’m an empath, you know.”

  “I do know that,” Jack said, irritation now in his tone. He shoved the tray a few inches. “Will you take this please? I’m not hungry.”

  “I won’t actually. I was told to make you eat something and I take my job quite seriously. If it’s cold I can heat it up,” she said, circling her finger in the air, an amused look on her usually blank face.

  “But I’m not hungry,” Jack said.

  “Well, you haven’t eaten all day and it’s almost evening, so stop arguing about it.”

  “It’s almost show time then?” Jack said, trying to turn to see the clock on the back wall but his bed was angled away from it.

  “It is, and don’t make me late for my performance. Eat,” Sunshine said, pointing at the plate. “My act is third in the lineup, which is in about fifteen minutes.”

  “I know that,” Jack said, pulling the tray back to his waist. “I know your act is after ours, that’s the way it’s been for three years, Sunshine.” He slid the fork under the pile of fluffy rice and brought it to his mouth and to his relief he didn’t have any trouble with the small task. He’d been afraid his hand would shake or miss his mouth.

  “Oh good, I wasn’t sure when I said ‘performance’ if you would connect we were in the same circus together,” Sunshine said.

  Jack dropped his fork on the plate and again pushed the tray away. “Why do you keep making those insinuations like I don’t know who you are?”

  “Because I realize there’s a real possibility that you might not.”

  Jack’s brow knitted together and his head tilted to the side. “What? Why would you say that?”

  “When was the last time you ever said anything to me?” Sunshine said, pinning both her hands on her hips. She was built a lot like a young Fanny, tall with voluptuous curves.

  Jack blanked on the question. “I don’t know.”

  “Exactly, because you and the acrobats are too good to spend time with the freaks.”

  Jack sat up higher, knocking the tray further on his lap. “Ouch,” he said, reaching for the tray which now rested on a sensitive incision.

  Sunshine picked up the tray, a look of actual concern on her face. “Are you okay? That hurt you.” She stated rather than asked the last part.

  Jack pressed his eyelids together until the throbbing receded. When he finally opened them his expression had shifted entirely. “If you can’t tell, I’m not an acrobat anymore. I don’t know why you think now is the perfect opportunity to berate me for not running in the same Vagabond Circus circle with you, but if you wouldn’t mind now isn’t a good time.”

  Sunshine slid the tray onto the table. “Right. Yeah, I guess that wasn’t very thoughtful of me,” she said, but it was more of an observation than an apology.

  Jack pressed his eyes back closed and then after a few seconds cracked one eye and looked sideways at a stoic Sunshine. “Why are you still standing there?”

  “Because you still haven’t eaten.”

  Jack looked down at the plate and then back to Sunshine’s determined face.

  “Fine, but don’t put that thing back on my lap.”

  “What if”—Sunshine lifted the tray and unfolded the two legs from underneath—“it didn’t have to rest on your lap.”

  Jack nodded. “Yeah, thanks. That will work.” He realized that was probably Fanny’s intention for the tray all along, but Sunshine had been too insensitive to allow it. She set the tray over his legs. “There, does that work?”

  He nodded. “I’ll eat. I promise. Go get ready for your performance.”

  She nodded and there under the girl’s usually melancholy eyes was something new. A real thread of remorse.

  “Thanks for bringing my food,” Jack said, picking up the fork again.

  “No problem.” Sunshine turned to leave and then spun back. “I’m sorry this has happened to you, Jacky.”

  He blew out a long breath. “I’m not,” he said, meaning it.

  “Yeah, I know. And that’s kind of cool,” Sunshine said before turning to go, her skirt dragging behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Zuma had always coveted the ten minutes before the Vagabond Circus show started. Those were sacred minutes that held so many possibilities. The patrons finding their seats were about to be changed. They’d walked into the big top with doubts or average expectations. Maybe they had seen the Vagabond Circus show before, but it just kept getting better. And therefore Zuma knew every individual who left Vagabond Circus was going to leave a different person. When they left through the same way they entered they’d believe in magic, maybe for the first time or maybe their faith would be renewed. The patrons of Vagabond Circus would use that newfound belief to spread a love so pervasive Zuma was sure it was saving the very earth where she stood.

  Dave’s circus brought miracles. It healed. But it was no longer Dave’s circus and now dread filled Zuma’s being. How would Knight’s presence change the vibe, the end result that the circus created? Would people still leave changed for the better? If that rested solely on Zuma’s shoulders then she’d bear that weight. Vagabond Circus had to bring good to the world. It had to.

  She absentmindedly ran her fingers over her braid. It was arranged down the back of her head and fashioned with pearls and diamonds. She was slightl
y chilly in the teal and neon green full body leotard she wore for the first act with Jasmine and Finley. She rubbed her hands over her arms and shivered. Zuma could step into the practice tent at her back and instantly be warm and surrounded by her circus family. But she needed some space to get her bearings before the show. The girl wished she still had her fortune-telling booth. At least when she read fortunes she could distract herself from the dread circling her thoughts. However, that booth had permanently been reassigned to Ian in light of the amount of changes she was responsible for in order to replace Jack.

  The flap at the back of the practice tent swished as someone stormed out. She blinked as Finley’s figure slowed. He’d obviously been in a hurry to get out of the tent if he was using his super speed. He halted twelve feet in front of her, his back to her, his chin lifted to the sky, his being vibrating with frustration. She could have sworn she heard a silent scream rip out of him.

  The three acrobats had worked nonstop all afternoon. And Jasmine and Zuma were exhausted from the endurance it took to get the arrangements perfect. But Finley wasn’t exhausted. He hardly ever was. She guessed he was emotionally exhausted, or so it looked from the way he held his shoulders. He raised his hands to his head and pressed like a vise grip. He was also dressed for the show in his teal blue and neon green leotard, but he didn’t look cold, like her. Actually Zuma thought that she could feel the heat pouring off him. He lowered his hands, took a few steadying breaths, and turned, his gaze finding her at once.

  Finley’s eyes narrowed, punishing her with a single look for watching him. He crossed his arms and lowered his chin, eyes still burning into her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were there?”

  “Why did you tell a big fat lie about Jack and I being engaged?” she said.

  He stepped forward a few paces, his long stride bringing them closer. Finley looked down at her. “You know why.” His dark hair looked almost black with the gel holding it back away from of his angular face.

  “So you’re just going to push me away in an effort to protect me?” she said, her voice higher and louder than she intended. Zuma couldn’t help it. All her barriers were cracked and straining increasingly with every moment.

  “Yes,” Finley said through clenched teeth.

  She reached out for his arms tied across his chest and he didn’t move to block her, although that’s exactly what he knew he needed to do.

  “Please don’t do this,” Zuma said, cinching on to him, pressing her fingers into Finley. “Stand beside me if you want to protect me. Stand in front of me. But don’t abandon me.”

  “You don’t get it, Zuma,” Finley said, ripping his arms down to his side and out of Zuma’s reach.

  “I do though. Knight is here and he’s a threat, but pushing me away won’t accomplish a damn thing,” she said.

  He shook his head. “No, you obviously don’t get it. You’ve lived in your perfect world where you haven’t been happy, but you were always safe and the biggest danger was falling to the springy net below. The world you’re in now is actually dangerous,” he said, his face red, his words carrying heat, his finger pointed to the ground under Zuma. “You seem to think I can save you or protect you. I can’t. There’s no net now, Zuma.”

  “Finley, just because I didn’t grow up like you doesn’t mean I don’t know how to negotiate this turn of events. Maybe you’re too colored by your experiences. If you’d listen to me then maybe we could work together. We could figure out how to take Knight down. Don’t push me away. Partner with me.”

  Finley regarded her for a long few seconds, studying the soft curves of her face, the way her brown eyes looked sharp and warm at the same time. She felt he was considering her words, and that gave her hope. But then he shook his head. “Zuma, I don’t discount you because you didn’t grow up like me. Hell, I know you’re smart and strategic, but in this you have no clue. Knight can’t be beaten. That’s where the flaws in your reasoning begin.”

  “Finley, stop—”

  “And you think we can partner together to beat him?” he said with a morbid laugh. “Zuma, you’re my greatest liability.”

  “No, I’m not. We could protect each other,” she said, growing more frustrated than she thought possible.

  “Zuma,” Finley said quietly, “Knight uses information to his advantage. There’s a reason I never formed relationships with any of the kids after the ones in my initial group all died. Anyone I ever cared about never lasted.” Finley raised his hand and paused it an inch from her face. She shivered out a breath just before he brought his fingers across her cheek. “The day Knight finds out I love you will be your last.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The big top was cast in black. Then low techno music started and with it a red rope of lights around the ring grew in intensity. Kids leaned forward. Smoke filled the big top, covering the neon green rug which made up the forty-eight-foot diameter ring. The rope of light cast an eerie glow through the smoke as the music shifted to one with low notes and a haunting rhythm. Then through the smoke a crouched figure rose from the center of the ring. A dim spotlight rained down on Knight, who stood in a red suit with tails that almost touched the ground and a matching top hat. His head was down as he rose to his full height, his long arms by his side. The music faded to nothing. The tent fell silent. A laugh that sounded like it must be projected from a microphone but wasn’t shot out of Knight’s mouth, making several kids and some adults startle.

  “Have you ever wanted to be bad?” he said, his face still down, top hat shielding him.

  No one answered.

  “You came for a show, but I’m giving you something more.” Knight then raised his head and looked out at the crowd. His face was painted with black and red flames. “I’m giving you permission to be bad,” he said in his gravelly voice that made him sound like he needed to clear his throat.

  No one made a single noise. Women grabbed their children’s arms. Fathers leaned forward, squinting at the demonic-looking creature in the red smoky ring.

  Knight spun around, holding his arms out over his head and up to the sky. “Here at Vagabond Circus you get to be bad. Don’t you want to join us?” Knight stopped and faced the silent and mesmerized crowd. “Looks like you’ll need some encouragement. As your new ringmaster I’m happy to do that,” he said, pressing his hand to his chest. “Mister,” he said, pointing at an elderly gentleman in the front row. The man wore an old tweed suit and his best shoes. He sat beside his wife and grandson. The man startled to attention.

  “Me?” he said, pointing to himself.

  “Oh yes, you,” Knight said and took off at a sprint around the ring in the opposite direction of the gentleman. Then when he’d made the circle he grabbed the metal cane sitting just in front of the man. Knight didn’t ask permission before plucking the cane up and spinning it in his hand as he strolled back to the center of the ring. “Is this your cane?”

  “Why yes, it is,” the man said, looking at his wife and then back to Knight, a giddy smile on the old man’s face. He was excited to have been chosen. To be a part of the act. Knight strolled to the other side of the ring. He paused in front of a young man. “Tell me, sir,” Knight said, “is this cane in fact real, meaning it doesn’t appear fake in any way?” He tossed the cane through the air and the man caught it but only barely, surprise written on his face. The young man stared at the cane in his hands, dumbstruck.

  “Well, is it?” Knight said. “Go ahead and inspect it. I’ve never seen it before this moment but I need you to confirm to the crowd that it’s real. That there’s no tricks up my sleeve.”

  The man slid his hands over the metal and plastic cane. “Yes, it looks real in every way. Feels real too.”

  “Strange then,” Knight said. “Why are you bending that poor gentleman’s cane, that he no doubt needs for walking?”

  And then in the stranger’s hand the cane bent, not once, but again and again until the metal was formed into an almost perfect circle. The young
man dropped the bending metal in front of him and stared at it in shock. “I’m not doing that!” the patron yelled.

  Knight strolled forward and picked up the complete circle of metal. “No, you’re not.”

  He then turned and tossed the cane at the feet of the old man. “But if you want to do something bad, then you should.” Knight held up his arms wide and he spun as he spoke, talking to the entire crowd. “Welcome to Vagabond Circus, where we embrace your inner child, who we all know wants to be mischievous. Here you can be BAD!” Then the crowd erupted into applause and laughter. Because this crowd, who had started off shocked and intrigued, was now enlivened, they believed that the old man and his cane were a prop. But the elderly gentleman stared at his cane in angered shock. No one noticed this though.

  The crowd’s attention was on the center of the ring where two poles were being lowered. “And I don’t just give you permission to be bad. I want you also to be bold,” Knight said and then threw his hand at the first pole. It molded like the cane into a large ring about five feet wide. The crowd gasped. Some whipped around to evaluate their neighbor’s response. But none of them looked away for too long.

  When the first pole was a perfect circle, Knight shot his hand at the other and it did the same thing, seeming to manipulate itself on its own. When both poles hung now as perfect rings Knight laughed loud enough it hurt some children’s ears, making them clap their hands to them.