Vagabond Circus Series

by Sarah Noffke

  Finley marched forward, the crowd parting for him. Clapping for him. Slapping his shoulder. But the acrobat had his chin down and his eyes on only one person. He reached Zuma in only a few strides. “Your curse will have been lifted now,” he said and stood in front of her, like he was presenting himself. Once the caster was dead, then the curse they created was too.

  With everyone’s eyes on Zuma, she stepped forward and held her hand up, pausing it just before his face. Finley’s lip was bleeding from where Knight had punched him. His skin was flecked with blood from where shards of tiny glass had rained down from the lights. But Zuma didn’t see his injuries as she touched his face which she could hardly believe was before her, and she could hardly understand what she was seeing in his features.

  “What?” he said, reading the confused expression in her eyes. “What is it?”

  Her hand paused at his hairline, her eyes running over the part of it owning her attention. Then she ran her fingers through the top left side of his hair. “You have a white streak through your hair,” she said, in awe of it. It was two inches wide and raced from the left of his hairline all the way to the back. Even covered in dust, it contrasted beautifully against his dark brown hair.

  “Oh, yeah,” Finley said, his eyes dropping. “I felt myself aging when I cast the curse. I probably don’t look nineteen anymore.”

  Zuma read the shame and disappointment in Finley. Her hand dropped to his chin, pulling it up so his eyes were on her. They were still a strange greenish hazel, but now they’d matured. “You, Finley, are more handsome than ever before.”

  Finley smiled at her and glided his hand over the side of her head, where the pink lay among whitish strands. “I guess we match now, huh, Pink-Streak?”

  “I think that means we’re meant to be together,” Zuma said, aware that all eyes were on them. No one seemed interested in giving the couple any privacy. They were the final act, the finale to the torturous show they’d watched all these months. Watching the two acrobats look at each other with unabashed love was a gift they all deserved.

  “I’m glad you think so,” Finley said, leaning down low, wiping the blood from his mouth. “Because I don’t plan on ever leaving your side.”

  Zuma smiled, one so pure, so beautiful, the crowd around them was accosted by the small gesture. It wasn’t a smile they’d ever seen, not on her face or anyone else’s. It was an expression that radiated a force. It was an expression of a freed girl. Eighteen years of suppressed happiness poured out of Zuma in that one moment, making her eyes sparkle, her face light up, and her elegance made everyone watching suck in tears of joy. “Nothing in the world would make me happier, Finley, than to be yours.”

  A tear slipped from the face of the warrior. The one who had battled his entire life. Been deprived. Been abused. Been neglected. And now Finley had something he never, ever thought possible, the gift to bring happiness to someone he loved. He closed the rest of the space between them, laying his lips on Zuma’s. She sucked him in with her mouth, pulled him in closer with her arms, breathed him in with each kiss. Her lips smiled against his as he kissed her, a kiss so beautiful and full of grace that no one dared look away. Love really is the most beautiful show. It can’t be rehearsed. It can’t be planned. It is the product of magic. It is what Vagabond Circus is all about.

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  “Well, I dare say, Titus,” Fanny said at his side as she watched the two acrobats embrace. “I think we are going to have to throw out that rule about no dating.”

  Titus, who was smiling at the couple as well, said, “Yes, I think so. And since the curse is lifted, I think there’s no reason for it anyway.”

  “Yes, and that means one day we might have babies here at the circus,” Fanny said, hope in her tone.

  “I think at the rate these two are going we might have babies sooner than later,” Titus said with a laugh.

  Fanny playfully slapped the creative director’s arm. “Oh, would you stop that. They have much to celebrate. Freedom. Happiness. Each other.”

  “Yes, and they are quite sweet,” Titus said.

  Finley and Zuma were no longer kissing, but rather holding on to each other with a quiet need. Her head lay on his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

  Only Fanny would dare interrupt the two lovers who were finally granted the opportunity to love each other openly. She stepped forward and cleared her throat.

  Finley raised his head, opening his wise eyes at the woman in front of them.

  “I think I should look over your injuries,” Fanny said, holding out a hand to him.

  He nodded, squeezing Zuma into him once before releasing her.

  ***

  Inside Fanny’s trailer, Finley sought the mirror first thing. She was busy gathering supplies to clean his wounds. The streak of white was exactly the width of the pink one in Zuma’s hair. And it did give him a rebellious look. He liked it. The slight wrinkles on his face were met with a different response. He didn’t like or dislike them. They were strange to see on his young face, but he figured in time he’d come to appreciate what they represented. That would take time though. He had never killed someone, and now alone, away from the crowd, the guilt prickled to the surface. Yes, Knight needed to be stopped. And Finley as his son was the only one to do it. He had felt that stopping Knight was his responsibility. And yes, the only way to do that was to kill the unstoppable demon. But Finley had now done it and it lay across his heart like a burden.

  “Okay, let’s see you,” Fanny said, calling Finley out of the bathroom.

  He exited, his head down and his worries covering his face like freckles.

  “Uh-oh,” Fanny said. “I’ve seen that look before. That’s the look of guilt and shame.”

  “I killed my own father. Cursed him. Killed him with a fast-acting curse. What kind of devil does that? I’m worse than him, aren’t I?” Finley said. His usually cool demeanor was gone and replaced with a slow-growing worry. Only with Fanny would he speak so openly, exposing his real fears.

  “What you did was kill an evil man,” Fanny said.

  “I’m not God. I don’t get to decide who lives or dies. And I did. I took someone’s life. I did something I’ve always hated him for. I’ve become him, my father.”

  “God works through us, Finley.” Fanny approached him and held out an open hand. “And I don’t actually think you killed your father.”

  Finley’s eyes went wide. “You think he’ll come back? That he isn’t gone?”

  She shook her head. “Take my hand and come sit with me, and I’ll try to explain what I’ve done. And I hope that God grants you the peace to forgive an old woman for playing games that only Ian should dare to play. I took some risk and I must blame faith for that.”

  Finley closed his fingers around the older woman’s. Her hands were soft and plush in his. She led him to the bench outside, the same one where he sat and learned to read all those months ago. The same one where she shared the news of the curse on Zuma, which he later discovered to be true. The curse that connected her to him, because he was the child whom Knight was trying to avenge by cursing any child born at Vagabond Circus.

  Fanny settled herself down next to Finley, smoothing down her skirt before looking up to the sky. She always believed the best place to reveal or learn information was outdoors. It made the process easier somehow, as though the open air gave the person recording the information a new capacity.

  “Do you know what Dave’s gift was?” Fanny finally said, her eyes back on the boy beside her.

  Finley thought for a minute and then shook his head.

  “I thought so. You see, after Cynthia died and the child that he had thought was his was murdered, Dave went into a depression. He suffered a great deal of pain, but he had a circus to run and he was more motivated than ever after that tragedy befell him. His brother had sought to ruin his life. Dave finally pulled out of the depression, but still held on to the pain. He suffered nightmares and wa
s only able to rest while dream traveling or using a concoction I made that stole his dreams away.” Fanny shook her head, her tight curls only swaying slightly. “He was a tortured soul after that. And he gave up much that day. He gave up years of his life and also his powers. You see, a person cannot use their dream travel gifts if their heart is too weighted with sadness. It steals their power. Dave knew this, and yet he never let go of the pain. And therefore he was never able to use his Dream Traveler skills after the day his wife, and supposedly you, died.”

  “What was his gift?” Finley said, thinking he knew the answer, and then shaking his head at himself because that was impossible. He hardly knew anything about Dr. Dave Raydon.

  “He had a few actually,” Fanny said, and there was a surprisingly sneaky grin tucked behind her words. “He had the gift of super speed and he was a teleporter.”

  “Wait. What? So I inherited my uncle’s gifts? How is that possible? Does that ever happen?” Finley said, knowing that gifts were shared in families. All of Zuma’s immediate family shared the gift of telepathy.

  “It hardly ever happens that a nephew inherits a gift from an uncle,” Fanny said.

  “Then why do I have Dave’s gifts?” Finley asked.

  And Fanny, dear sweet Fanny, actually raised a challenging eyebrow to the young man. She knew he was smart enough to figure this out. Knew it would be more powerful if he did. She wasn’t playing a game, but she was enjoying dismantling a secret she’d held onto for all those months.

  “What? Why are you just looking at me like that?” Finley asked.

  “You didn’t inherit your uncle’s gifts, Finley,” Fanny said, and then she reached out and touched his chin with her fingers. Held it up a little higher so she could see those eyes, the ones that reminded her of the man who saved her life. “You inherited your father’s gifts, sweetheart.”

  “What? Dave…you think…are you trying to tell me…” Finley couldn’t construct a sentence because his mind couldn’t assimilate this new information.

  “Yes, I believe Dave Raydon was actually your father,” she said, dropping her hand back to her lap.

  “But I time traveled. I saw my mother, Cynthia, tell Knight that he had killed his own son when he’d confessed what he’d done,” Finley said.

  “Oh, yes,” Fanny said, with a knowing look. “And what would be the worst punishment you could think of for a lover who had killed your child, the one from another man?”

  “To reveal to him that the child was actually his,” Finley said slowly, in awe. “But still, this doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Finley, from my perspective it makes perfect sense, since I knew your mother. From your perspective it’s a strange reality that’s not easy to digest.”

  “What are you implying about my mother?” Finley asked, but there wasn’t any offense in the question, only a sincere curiosity.

  Fanny pulled her mouth to the side as she considered how to phrase what she needed to say. “Your mother, Cynthia, she was the type of woman who would have an affair with her husband’s brother. She—”

  “You’re saying she was a bad person,” Finley said, wondering if he was destined to be evil if he came from two dishonest parents. Maybe it would have been better to be born from the surrogates, he thought.

  Fanny’s head shook. “Life isn’t black and white. There aren’t bad and good people and no one knew that better than Dave. He loved your mother because she was incredible. She had an essence about her that drew people in. Cynthia was stunning to look at and also had a brilliant mind to impress. But all of this gave her too much power over people, and made her a bit greedy at times.” Fanny said this all matter-of-factly, not a hint of judgment in her tone.

  “And that’s why she had an affair with Knight?” Finley asked.

  “I believe so,” Fanny said. “I think she was also punishing Dave when he wouldn’t abandon the circus.”

  “I hear what you’re saying about the world not being black and white, but I think my mother was a bad person. She definitely sounds manipulative,” Finley said.

  Fanny teetered her head side to side, her lips puckered slightly with a look that said, “who are we to judge.” Then she reached out and patted Finley’s knee. “I believe people do bad things. If I recall, you were not always nice to Zuma and she punished you for a long time, as well.”

  “But that was different. I was protecting Zuma by being mean to her. And she punished me because I was culpable for Dave’s death,” Finley said in an urgent rush.

  “Exactly,” Fanny said with a triumphant smile. “Everyone has reasons and we do ourselves many favors when we don’t judge others for their decisions. There are all types of people in the world who were molded by all different experiences and have different motives for their actions. For whatever reason, your mother was the type who punished people who didn’t act in the way she wanted. And you, Finley, are the type who will punish yourself to protect people.”

  “So based on your knowledge of my mother, you think that she told Knight I was his child to punish him? To make him regret murdering me?” Finley said.

  “That’s right,” Fanny said. “It feels like something she’d do, and then everything else about you would make more sense too. It would explain your abilities, features, and personality, which resemble Dave much more than Knight.”

  “But then I don’t understand why you told Knight, and me, and the rest of the circus that he was my father? Why would you mislead us?”

  The calm smile on Fanny’s face fell away. “I know. I don’t like to play games or mess with people’s lives. Lies are not something I’ve ever been comfortable with. However, this situation was unique and dangerous. I knew I was in a special position since I was the only one who possessed the knowledge of your birth. And I prayed and prayed and God granted me an idea one morning. He told me that the solution to rid the circus of Knight was only possible if he thought you were his son. And after thinking about it that made perfect sense. I think if he would have found out you were Dave’s son then you’d be dead already. And he probably hesitated killing you today because he thought you were his son. And then also, I think you were more motivated to rid the world of him because of the connection he held to you.” She then shrugged like this was all conjecture. “It is hard to know how and why God works the way he does, but Knight is gone and that’s because of you, so there you are.”

  “Well, is there any way to determine if Dave is in fact my father?” Finley asked.

  “I figured you’d say that, and yes, there is. As you know, I care for and monitor the health of everyone at Vagabond Circus. I saved a sample of Dave’s blood from his last physical. Ironically I was going to do the DNA test the very day I found out Dave was dead.” Fanny then sighed like she was trying to relieve a heavy burden from her chest. “I never had the opportunity to perform the test while Dave was living. I never got the opportunity to tell him who you were and my suspicions about Cynthia’s lie. God decided Dave would never meet you for who you were, his blood relative, but I also believe, his son. You see, Finley, Dave and Knight were related, but you take after our founder. I’ve been observing it since the day I met you. And there’s one thing that makes me certain my inkling is right.” The healer smiled now, but there was a great sadness to the gesture, as a memory surfaced in her eyes. “You have Dave’s heart.”

  Finley found that swallowing wasn’t really an option after all this news. Instead, he attempted his own weak smile.

  “Now,” Fanny said, pulling confidence into the word as she shook off the sentimentality. “What I need from you is a sample. If I can have that, then inside my trailer I have the equipment to determine who your real father is.”

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Finley waited outside Fanny’s trailer. He couldn’t stand the idea of watching her perform the DNA test. After she’d taken his sample, he stayed in the trailer, but not for long. The waiting was worse when he watched her measuring chemicals and shaking te
st tubes. He had taken back up the spot on the picnic table where the kids usually did their lessons, out in front of the trailer.

  “Hey.” It was Zuma’s voice.

  Finley looked up at her and tried to smile. The grin on his face made his heart feel heavy.

  “What are you doing out here? I came to check on you,” she said, studying the cuts on his face. “It doesn’t look like Fanny has treated you yet.”

  He shook his head. Bit his lip.

  “What is it?” she asked, reading the worry in his face.

  “Zuma, Fanny believes that my mother lied to punish Knight.” The words spilled out of Finley too fast, like something he would explode from if he didn’t share.

  Zuma’s face contorted with confusion. “What?”

  He nodded. “Fanny thinks Cynthia told Knight he’d killed his son to punish him. Or maybe she thought I was Knight’s son. But Fanny doesn’t.”

  “What? Why?” Zuma asked, the full implications not dawning on her yet.

  “Did you know what Dave’s gifts were?” Finley said.

  She nodded. He had never used them around her since he couldn’t, but from being in his head she knew. “Yeah, he had super sp…” Her words trailed away as her mouth hung open. “Dave? Fanny thinks Dave is your father?” And now a bright smile sprung to her face. It was so wide it hurt her lips. Being happy would take getting used to. Again her sudden happiness made the space seem brighter, better. Zuma sat beside Finley with an exuberant thud.