by Sarah Noffke
Only silence met his ears. He stepped forward, his head held high. The man didn’t care for games. Had never played them as a child. Knight didn’t actually believe in the luxury of playing. It corrupted people’s minds. Made them soft and chipped away at the opportunity for discipline.
In truth, the big top wasn’t empty. Benjamin had already cleared the space and exited through the practice tent at the back. However, hovering just inside the big top was Finley, but his father couldn’t feel the presence of his mind. The acrobat pressed his eyes closed and said a final prayer before teleporting.
***
Knight was about to turn around and storm out of the big top when an unmistakable figure appeared in the middle of the ring. He could clearly see the features of his son’s face, which were much more proportionate than his own. His nose the right fit for his face. His chin the right degree of roundedness. His eyes not small, like Knight’s, but wide and unmistakably the greenish hazel shade of his mother Cynthia’s. Thankfully, Knight thought, his son took after his mother in appearance; otherwise he would have been more a freak than an acrobat.
“Finley,” Knight said, not a question in his voice, although it was too dark for most to see in the big top. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be done with the job I sent you on yet.”
“I didn’t do it,” Finley said, his chest held tall, his chin high too. He could see his father without issue, as well. Knight’s snow white skin seemed to glow in the darkened big top. His long face and its features told Finley what he already knew. Knight was pissed. Pissed that he’d been led to the big top. Pissed that Gwendolyn and Sebastian appeared to be acting insubordinately. And pissed that he, Finley, had not done the job he was assigned.
“You what?” Knight said, his voice rising.
“I. Didn’t. Do. It.” Finley said each word deliberately. “I haven’t done any of the jobs you’ve assigned to me recently.”
Knight marched forward until he was only a few feet from Finley. “Why?” He hissed out the word.
“Because hurting people is wrong,” Finley said and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“That’s not for you to decide, SON!” Knight said, yelling the last word.
“How I live my life is my decision.”
“That has never been the way things are. You are mine. You were mine when I adopted you. And you are mine now that I know you’re my son. You don’t have the liberty of making your own decisions unless you want others to suffer,” Knight said, racing through parts of some sentences and deliberately slowing on others.
“You aren’t going to hurt anyone anymore, Father,” Finley said, and the last word had a bite to it.
“You don’t get it, do you, Finley? You think that people shouldn’t be hurt? You’ve always had that wrong notion. I watched you flinch when the kids in your set growing up were hit with headaches. You didn’t understand then, and you don’t comprehend it now, that I was disciplining them.”
“You were killing them. That’s what happened to the kids in my set. All of them,” Finley said, allowing his emotions to spill out of him as he flung his arms out wide.
“The weak die from discipline. That’s the natural order of things, Finley. That’s why you survived. You are my son. You are strong. But you are also flawed in your ability to see things clearly.”
“It is not for you to decide who gets punished. You aren’t God. You don’t control the natural order of things. That’s not your job,” Finley said.
“So you didn’t punish the kids who disgraced the side of my big top? Or punish any of the other kids I’ve assigned you to go after? Don’t you get that you’re allowing chaos when I’m trying to stop it?” Knight said.
“There was never chaos or theft or violence by our patrons before you were the ringmaster. When Dave led this circus, he inspired good behavior by being good.”
“Don’t you dare speak to me about my BROTHER!” Knight said and he raised his hand as if to strike Finley. However, Finley teleported back several feet just as Knight’s long arm swung through the air. He was quick, like Finley, and the movement barely missed his son.
“You always had no issue striking me,” Finley said through gritted teeth. Too often he’d felt Knight’s oversized hand and heard the speech about how he was making him stronger.
“What are you doing, Finley? Are you acting out? Are you having doubts about your role in this family?”
“This is not a family. And what I’m doing is putting a stop to you and your demonic rule. It’s gone on too long, Father.”
Knight laughed, one so loud that Finley could have sworn it made the support beams of the big top vibrate. “You are naïve. You are as diluted as the people you try and protect. Gwendolyn! Sebastian!” Knight yelled his kids’ names loud enough that Finley was sure the circus members who were no doubt stationed outside the tent could hear it. Actually he was fairly certain his father’s yells could be heard at the edge of the circus. “Gwendolyn! Sebastian!” Knight called again a few seconds later.
“They won’t be coming,” Finley said plainly.
“What did you do with them? Where are they?” And there was a hint of worry in Knight’s eyes. He was strong, but without the ability to stop others’ powers or kill them with touch he was at a significant disadvantage.
“They won’t ever be coming to help you. Father, you’re on your own.”
“What did you do with my KIDS?”
“They were punished for helping you,” Finley said. “I didn’t like it, but that’s what had to happen.”
“Why?” Knight’s voice actually vibrated with something akin to pain. “You killed them? Why would you do that?”
“Because you can’t be stopped as long as they are around. And they blindly follow you, no matter what you ask. There’s no reasoning with them. They are exactly what you intended them to be. Soldiers. And the worst kind. Unquestioning ones.”
“Finley, you will pay for this,” Knight said. And if Finley had Zuma’s combat skill then he would have seen his father lunging for him before he did. But his father’s long frame and fast actions made it so he didn’t move before Knight wrapped his hand around Finley’s shirt, and launched him into the air so Finley’s feet flew off the ground. “How dare you try and stop me,” Knight said, spit flew and hit his son in the face.
Finley wrapped his hand around the arm holding him up off the ground. His father’s skin was cold and tight. He took a steadying breath, knowing Knight was about to throw him through the air. He couldn’t give him a headache, but he could beat him until he couldn’t breathe and had done it on many occasions. Finley let out the breath and then disappeared.
Knight dropped his hand to his side, looking around the big top for his son who had teleported away. “Oh where, oh where are you going this time?” Knight said, in a demonic sing-song voice.
On the far side of the ring, next to the curtain, Finley appeared.
“Why are you doing this?” Knight turned and faced his son straight on.
“Because I’m tired of watching you abuse. I’m tired of being your pawn. I would rather die than allow you one more day to spread cruelty.”
“Finley, you are asking to die then. You realize that, right?” And Knight raised his hand up and the movement that followed was quick. A single jerk. His hand moved less than a foot through the air, but the result was immediate. The metal scaffolding that held up the large spotlight bent with a rush. The light on the end of it flew loose and raced overhead, straight down at Finley. The acrobat looked up just in time. Instantly he discerned the safest path out of the overhead assault and using his super speed he sprinted to the other side of the ring. But Knight, sensing the direction his son would take, raced, knocking into him, tackling him to the ground. Knight weighed significantly more than his son due to his superior height.
Metal and glass from the spotlight rained from the trigger effect Knight had caused using his gift to pull down the light support. It dra
gged down the curtain when it fell on it and this encouraged the other scaffolding on the other side to crash down.
Father and son rolled. Finley struggled to free himself from the hands seeking to pin him in place. Knight sought to maintain a hold on the guy who could outmaneuver him using his super speed. Knight brought his hand up and before Finley could move, a rain of broken glass stole the acrobat’s attention, which caused him to hesitate. His father’s fist made his teeth shake in his mouth, like they were all loosened at once. His head exploded with white burning pain. The scene in front of him turned black and that’s when he realized he couldn’t fight his way out of this anymore. Finley disappeared.
It took Knight a second to realize his son wasn’t under him. His arm swung out, catching only air. The movement, so hard and meant to be fatal, made the man throw himself in the opposite direction. The domino effects of his earlier actions were still occurring, metal and pieces of the support scaffolding shredding apart, unlacing in pieces. The big top was built like a pyramid and any piece out of place created a shift in the balance. Knight had knocked out one of the principle support mechanisms without knowing it. He rolled over, startled by the screeching of metal above and just then, the side of the big top fell, cutting the space in half. Knight was covered in part of the tent and stumbled out to the other side of the ring, just as another beam flew sideways, crashing down and knocking the man to the ground. It lay oddly across his legs, pinning them in place. The big top shifted all around him, falling down in places, tearing in others. Billowing from the force of the rush of air.
“Ahhhh!!!” Knight screamed, looking at his pinned legs. The beam had cracked his femur, of that he was positive, but what burned more was his anger. Knight actually loved pain. It made him feel alive, but he hated being trapped. He could manipulate the heavy beam pinning him, but he couldn’t move it. To release himself from that position would take time. He scanned the dark tent. He didn’t know where Finley was and was certain he didn’t have much time.
The big top was half deflated when it finally stabilized. The remaining support beams had done their job and stayed up, although two of their brethren fell. The scaffolding and beams that fell had finally stopped creating further destruction in their wake. Knight could hardly see this due to the dust clouding the air around him. He could see in the dark, but he couldn’t see through dust particles.
Knight blinked several times and a figure coated in dust and dark appeared. His son’s unmistakable figure. “Finley,” Knight croaked out, his voice more scratchy than usual. “Help me.”
Finley stepped forward until he stood only feet from his father. The dust had started to settle, but still his eyes watered from the assault of dirt. “I will help you, Father. I will give you a choice.”
“A choice!” Knight boomed. “You let me up now and when you do I won’t kill you. How about that?”
“No,” Finley said, his one word almost too quiet to be heard.
“Well, I’m not going to do whatever it is you want. And we both know you don’t have it in you to kill me. You could never harm anyone easily. There’s no way you’re going to kill your father.”
“I have other ways,” Finley said, and then the dust in the half big top settled at once like it had all been sucked to the earth where it originated. The ambient light that slid around the cracks made by the crash of support beams brightened. All noises, those heard and those unheard, intensified. And the temperature in the tent rose suddenly, making Knight’s long forehead bead with sweat.
“What are you doing?” Knight asked, although he knew. He’d felt these elemental changes enough times to know what was going to follow.
“I’m giving you a choice,” Finley said, his chin low, but his eyes on his father who lay before him. The acrobat narrowed his gaze and drew in a long breath. He felt the power, the one granted to him by pulling on the energy of the universe. He hadn’t practiced this enough, but felt that he needed a few more seconds to establish the foundation for the curse that would follow.
“Don’t you do this, Finley,” Knight said, real terror in his eyes.
“You’ve made me do this,” Finley said, and just then he felt a tug in his core, like the most startling gut feeling ever. It was now or never. When Finley spoke his voice was different. It was louder than he intended, like it was being projected from speakers all over the big top. It made the rug under his feet vibrate. And it burned his lungs. However, he still spoke, each word a deliberate part of his curse. Each word a critical ingredient. Each one spoken with the same amount of power. “As long as you, Charles Knight, have ill will towards others then your heart will not beat. Lungs will not breathe. I give you every chance to live. All you must do is let go of the evil within you if you want to survive,” Finley said and then stopped, holding the force and intention inside his heart and mind, directing all the power he’d borrowed from the elements to them.
Knight didn’t do anything. Just remained frozen. Finley watched, continuing to hold the focus. The seconds following a curse were the most crucial. His lungs began to burn. His heart began to hurt and he suddenly feared that the curse had backfired. A real repercussion he was aware of. Finley kept the intention of the curse central in his thoughts even as something seemed to shift in his body. He could feel himself degrading, as though years of his life were being stripped out in a few single seconds. The acrobat wanted to crumple to the earth, suddenly feeling the worst exhaustion ever, but forced himself to stay standing.
And then Knight gasped for breath. His hand flew to his throat, as his eyes widened with pure horror. The man’s mouth hung open wide enough he could have swallowed a golf ball. One of his hands jerked to his chest. He convulsed three times, his head ripping forward with each one. Then he looked up to his son and reached for him, his long arm crossing a large distance. His eyes pleaded. His mouth remained open, unable to pull any oxygen into his lungs. Every part of him was begging to his son who stood before him.
“You know how to stop this curse,” Finley said, again his voice not his. It was like a voice sung from the heavens. One that made changes. Created laws. Shook the earth. “No ill will towards others, and you live. It is a choice.”
Knight’s hand flew to his chest, pure grief in his creased face. Finley knew that his father’s heart wasn’t beating and he could only sustain that for a few more seconds. It was a law of the universe that one would live until their brain was too oxygen deprived. And that was the law he had based his curse on, knowing that its construction had to be perfect. He stared down at the man he’d known all his life. The one he’d watched in dream travel form try to murder him when he was a baby. This man was a demon. This was Finley’s father and he was the worst human being ever.
“Goodbye, Father,” Finley said. “May you rest in peace as I know the world will when you are gone.”
Knight lay back, his dark eyes blinking up at his son. Then he closed them slowly, and his head fell to the side.
Chapter Seventy-One
The exit to the big top was partially obscured by a portion of the tent that had sunken in. Titus had to hold Zuma back when an internal assault threatened the integrity of the big top and it deflated gradually on one side. She could have fought him but then he whispered, “He didn’t want anyone in there. Especially you. You are his greatest weakness, Zuma.”
She looked up at the creative director and realized he knew that Finley and Zuma were in love. Titus had grown so much over the last few months. He’d matured, but he’d also become intuitive, something she guessed he never allowed himself to be in the past.
All of Vagabond Circus was watching when the flap to the exit shifted. This was the moment. The moment where they would learn their fate. If Knight exited then they were doomed. They wouldn’t be able to run fast enough. He would curse all of them. More than half a dozen would fall dead with aneurysms. They would die or if they lived, they’d wish they were dead.
Whoever was fumbling with the extra portion o
f tent blocking the exit was having trouble determining the way out. The big top was in such a sorry state that it didn’t look like itself anymore. Finally, a hand reached through, finding a path to the outside. Everyone sucked in a collective breath. Everyone’s hearts skipped, like a rock over water. Three long beats followed by two short and then a pause before gravity pulled the stone down to the earth.
The circus members had made this gamble for themselves, knowing they would rather die than be defeated and lose the circus. The hand pushed the tent flap back, sliding through a small opening. One hand was over his figure covered in dust and dirt and his own blood. Finley’s eyes took a second to adjust to the bright setting sun, which was a stark contrast to the dark tent. Then he dropped his arm from his face and looked out at the sea of people. No one moved. No one made a single sound. No one’s expression changed for several seconds. They all just stared in disbelief at the guy who didn’t look like the one they expected to leave the big top. He was older. Matured. And elegantly beautiful.
Finley regarded his people, his eyes taking in their expressions of incredulity. He raised his chin and stared straight at Titus. “We are free! Knight is dead,” he said, and his voice was his own again. It came out of him filled with a purity. One that wrapped itself around the people of Vagabond Circus, embracing them. Healing their wounds.
The entire crowd erupted in an applause bigger than they had ever received at any show. It could be heard miles away. And it went on for longer than any applause had ever lasted at the circus.