“Yeah, but it’s the question people ask about most of us, so I figured I’d answer it before it came up,” Kitty said.
“And if I did have a question…”
“Shoot,” Kitty replied. She winked at a page straddling the barrier at the knife-throwing booth, and he raised a hand to her as he drank from his anachronistic water bottle.
“How do you deal with the heat?” Maya asked. She had an overabundance of hair on her own head. It could generously be called wavy or curly in its natural state, if she hadn’t blow-dried and straightened it into submission, but Maya just called it wiry or frizzy on a humid day. It reached down to the middle of her back, and she liked it in spite of the frizz because it was healthy and rich and dark. However, in the summer her head and neck suffered most from her vanity, even when she wore her hair in a ponytail, like she did now.
“I don’t,” Kitty said, shrugging. “The only thing I can do is endure it while it’s here, take cold showers, then laugh at everyone else when winter comes. I’ve got no choice but to live with my hair, so I make the best of it when I can and endure it when I can’t.”
“That seems awfully grounded,” Maya said.
“We all have an albatross to bear, Maya,” Kitty replied. “You don’t have to be cursed by a jinni to be cursed by your genes. I’m sure you have a few burdens you struggle with every day. Are you a religious woman?”
Maya nodded. She had a sailor’s tongue, but she loved Jesus and attended Mass regularly—or at least she used to. Maya didn’t think Bell was going to let her out for that. The thought of the sins accumulating between confessions made her stomach run cold.
Then she remembered that she was in the company of demons. Did that mean God had delivered her to the devil?
“Then you know—everyone’s got something. Sometimes I think I’m the lucky one, because mine’s just on the outside. Like everyone else, I tried to fit in for the longest time. I had razors and a pair of tweezers in my purse and my car. I shaved and waxed. I tried homeopathic remedies to make my hair fall out. I even tried this spell from a Wiccan friend. It didn’t work.
“I had a five o’clock shadow almost exactly by five o’clock if I didn’t shave my face during lunchtime, not to mention a unibrow I couldn’t keep plucked to save my life. I wore long sleeves and pants to hide the hairs on my arms and legs. I never went to the beach unless I was completely covered. And after a while—about the time my hair started to win the war—I wondered what the hell I was fighting for in the first place, trying to look right to the people around me when they mocked me for it anyway, calling me ‘Sasquatch’ and ‘gorilla’ and ‘dog-faced girl’.”
Maya snorted in derision. “Adults talk about the innocence of children. I teach teenagers and wonder if adults remember what it was like at all. Kids can be incredibly kind about differences, but they can also be incredibly cruel. There’s no in-between.”
“It’s the same with adults,” Kitty said. “They’re just savvier about it. And remember, this was back when diversity, discrimination and accommodation weren’t the watchwords they are today. Companies had an appearance standard. Every manager pityingly brought up the ‘grooming’ clauses of their contract. I guess there were jobs I could have done behind the scenes, no face-to-face contact. Let’s be real, though. I’m a people person. I have needs. So I started shopping for circuses.”
All around them, the Renaissance faire had come to life, actors in garb wandering about and early birds weaving through. As promised, Kitty didn’t let go of Maya, but she did have to lean to the side and hold Maya’s hand when a passing guest wanted a picture. The guest asked if the hair was real. Kitty smiled without any offense, as though she hadn’t heard the question a million times before, and told the guest it was.
After the guest went on her way, Kitty tucked Maya’s arm back into hers and continued. “Even back then, the circus world was changing. The really big tent shows didn’t draw the same crowds, and most of their limited freak slots were already taken. As far as the other choices went, you had the sideshow danger and gross-out acts. Then you had the dance and tumbling acts. Cirque du Soleil changed the circus game, and there isn’t a place for me in that. That’s for all the beautiful people. No one wants a dancing yeti on their stage. You can laugh, Maya. Life is a funny thing, and I’m the first to admit I’m a funny-looking person.”
“Sorry,” Maya said, glancing down at her filthy skirt. “I’m laughing in my mind, just not on my face right now.”
“I understand,” Kitty said. “I was just wondering whether my sense of humor had taken a vacation and I only thought I was being funny. Anyway, I found Arcanium and immediately fell in love with it. Bell told me what would be required if I were to join him, although he left some crucial information out. I wished my way into the circus, and here I am. I’ve been touring with him for ten years. We’re one of the troupes that can continue when a lot of others can’t, because on top of our profits, we’re independently funded by the Ringmaster. I’m not sure what favors he does and for whom to actually get that money, but we’re never strapped for cash. I find it’s best not to ask.”
“What is the Ringmaster?” Maya asked. “The way everyone talks about him, even Bell, he sounds like Satan himself.”
“I doubt he’s Lucifer,” Kitty said. “That one has more pressing concerns than a traveling circus, I’m sure. But the other demons in our troupe are lower level, mild powers, stronger than humans but not by much—small potatoes in the dark realms. The Ringmaster is…different. Just stay away from him, Maya. He’s more than a demon. He’s a monster.”
“They’re all monsters,” Maya said grimly, her grip tightening over Kitty’s arm.
“In their own way,” Kitty said. She stopped them and held Maya’s upper arms to ensure Maya met her eyes. “But most of them aren’t much worse than people. And one of the benefits to being one of us now is that they can’t torment you. That’s not their job anymore. Bell won’t let them go after anyone in the circus.”
“What do you mean, that’s not their job anymore?” Maya asked.
“Demons exist to torment us or make us torment ourselves,” Kitty said. “That’s what they do. But we’re off limits. We’re in Bell’s hands, subject to his will and whim under the wishes he grants, and so are the demons, even the Ringmaster. We’re all in his boat.”
“Then Bell is the monster. Bell and the Ringmaster both,” Maya said. She resisted the urge to shake Kitty’s hands off her.
Troubled, Kitty’s face wrinkled under the hair covering it.
“What? Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft on him,” Maya said.
“Maybe,” Kitty mused. “It’s complicated.”
“What’s complicated about him cursing us? I mean, I saw some of the other people. Is it just me or did I get lucky?” Maya said. “Kidnapped, abandoned, magically bound…and fucking lucky.”
“I’m saying that Bell’s place in the human world is a complicated one. As I’m sure you’ve figured out, Bell’s not just psychic. He’s jinn,” Kitty said.
“Like a genie, granting wishes,” Maya said. “I can’t believe I’m even saying that.”
“‘Jinn’ is better. ‘Genie’ comes from the French trying to say ‘jinni,’ singular,” Kitty said.
“I thought he was a demon, and that’s why the others follow him,” Maya said.
“Well, technically, the other demons are jinn too,” Kitty replied. “They don’t grant wishes like Bell, but they’re jinn just the same.”
“Okay, now I’m confused.”
“I don’t know how much this flies in the face of what you believe,” Kitty said. “My spiritual beliefs are pretty eclectic, maybe because of all I’ve experienced these last ten…oh dear, is it really almost fifteen now? I lost track of the year. I don’t even want to think about that.”
“Well, I’ve heard a lot of strange things in my life. After all, I’m Catholic. Go ahead and try me,” Maya said.
The scents of t
he faire had already permeated the air from restaurant booths preparing for the lunch crowd. Maya gestured to a picnic table, and they sat down on one of the benches. Kitty kept a hand on Maya’s shoulder as Maya unwrapped one of the breakfast tacos and began to eat, hungry at last.
“The spiritual world is slightly different than just battles between good angels and bad demons,” Kitty explained. “I think it was Islam that first detailed the difference between man, angels and jinn, but the concept is far older, and I think it integrates into any other belief system—sometimes it’s just a matter of what a culture calls them. According to the story, God created angels from light, man from earth and jinn from fire. Angels are powerful but without free will. Man is weak but has free will. Jinn are as powerful as angels and have as much free will as human beings.”
“Yeah, they never taught us this in catechism,” Maya muttered.
“Jinn aren’t necessarily evil, but they can be,” Kitty said. “What we call demons, all of them are jinn. But not all jinn are demons. They each serve a purpose, you know—demons, jinn, angels. Earth is the battleground, humans the bounty, and there can’t be a battle without an adversary, no free will without a choice, no salvation without the potential for damnation.”
“I can’t tell whether what you’re saying is blasphemous or not,” Maya said, finishing off her tacos. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to a class.”
Kitty smiled. “I think it’s significant that most of Arcanium’s demons do call themselves demons. What some of them do outside of the ring bears out that definition, especially the Ringmaster, who doesn’t care whether it’s human or demon flesh he’s ravaging. It’s all entertainment to him.”
“Like what? What do they do?” Maya asked.
“Just try not to wander around at night,” Kitty said. “They won’t bother you, but you never know what you’ll see and wish you hadn’t.”
“Duly noted.”
“Bell doesn’t call himself a demon, though,” Kitty said. “He calls himself jinn. Now, it could just be Bell messing with everyone’s heads. He does that sometimes. But I think it speaks to the way he sees himself and what he does.”
“Which is what?” Maya said. “Does he see it as some kind of twisted angelic act, hurting us for our own good?”
“I think in the grand scheme of things, he views the way he grants wishes as serving a larger purpose. A lot of demons, their aim is destruction for their own enjoyment. But for Bell, destruction isn’t his aim. I think the part he plays is one of chaos, as arbitrary as any terrible or wonderful coincidence.”
Maya conceded that Kitty had known him a lot longer, but Maya also sensed a good bit of Stockholm in what Kitty was saying—justifications she used in order to make Bell a better man—or demon—than he was. Bell might have conceivably believed he was a better demon. That didn’t make it so.
“Wait a second,” Maya said, jerking upright, hope rushing and sparkling in her veins. “It was Derrick’s wish that got me trapped. Couldn’t I just wish myself out again?”
Kitty winced. “If only it were that easy,” she said. “I mean, you could try, but I wouldn’t recommend it, not right now.”
“Why? I wish, and I’m out,” Maya said.
“One of the services Bell provides, in his mind, is teaching that old adage—Be careful what you wish for. And as an agent of chaos, he’s…capricious,” Kitty replied.
“Meaning evil?”
“Unpredictable. Look, I’m really not trying to excuse his actions, all right?” Kitty said. “Sometimes what he does is evil. But it’s hard for me to call him evil. He’s intensely protective of his circus.”
“I’d call it possessive,” Maya interrupted.
“And not everything he does, whether it’s through the wishing or through the circus, is evil.”
“So just because he has some occasional good moments, that keeps him from being evil?” Maya asked.
“And just because he has some occasional evil moments, that keeps him from being good?” Kitty countered. “I told you. It’s complicated. He’s more powerful than people, so his ‘complicated’ is a bit more grandiose than our little human banalities. It’s still not as simple as branding him a villain, okay?”
“Well, he’s mine,” Maya said. “If I have to be the victim, he’s going to be the fucking villain of this piece.”
“Fine. But if he’s going to be the villain in your little horror film, missy, you’ll listen to me very carefully when I tell you not to wish without thinking,” Kitty said. “Wishing is not the easy way out. Bell will take that wish and use it however he likes, for whatever ends he deems appropriate.”
“What was all that about him being a good guy?”
“Stop being sarcastic for five seconds, Maya, and actually listen to what I’m saying. I’ve been with him for fifteen years. I might have an unhealthy attachment to Arcanium. It’s my home and I’ve been nothing but welcomed and even loved here. But I know him better than most, and you haven’t even known him a consecutive hour, so shut up,” Kitty said. “Let’s take one of the most common wishes he hears. It comes from men and women, adults, teens, children, and it’s truly an indictment on this damn society if that’s all they’re preoccupied with. But the wish that crosses his ears most often is the wish to lose weight.”
“Believe me, as a health teacher, I hear that all the time,” Maya said, running her nails over her scalp. She needed a shower. Her head itched and her hair felt gross. “All these tiny little girls talking about how fat their stomach skin is.”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned,” Kitty said quietly, “it’s that some of us are more freakish than others, but I think most people are afraid everyone else is going to figure out they’re the real freak. Like I said, I’m actually fortunate mine is so obvious.
“Now, imagine someone—anyone—saying in front of Bell that they wish they could lose some weight. He can use that wish any number of ways. He could grant the wish exactly as they intend it. Over the course of ten weeks, they could lose the thirty pounds that they’ve been wishing they’d lose, and the weight would stay off, plain and simple. But he could be sneaky and make them lose ten pounds, only for them to suddenly balloon up fifty pounds or more.”
“Or he could make them unhealthily skinny to the point they could die,” Maya muttered, remembering Arcanium’s Human Skeleton—the jut of her hipbones, the pointed range of her ribs, the prominent ridge of her breastbone, the discernible bulges at the ends of her bones.
“If you’re thinking of Sandra, she’s not cursed. She’s voluntary, in the tradition of a long line of natural shadows,” Kitty said. “It’s not any healthier than if it were a curse, but she lives with the circus to avoid recriminations about how ugly and irresponsible she is for being that skinny. She knows she’ll die from it eventually. Being a part of the circus is actually good for her, though. As long as she stays, Bell keeps her alive and functional.”
“What a prince,” Maya said.
“Sandra thinks so,” Kitty replied lightly. “Even so, you have the right idea. Some of those who have wished to lose weight have contracted wasting diseases seemingly out of nowhere. Or cancer. He gave one man a giant tapeworm in his gut. Or, you know, he can make you lose weight the medieval way and lop off your limbs like he did Christina. There was no pain, she tells us. The biggest blow there was to her pride and dignity, because she depends on Joanne and Jane for almost everything, and she regrets her wish every day, although she blames Bell for it.”
“As well she should,” Maya said.
“I won’t argue with you there. When Bell hears a wish, he has to fulfill it, but he made Christina what she is just because he wanted a Human Torso on the Oddity Row. He was even more pleased when Carlo joined the circus voluntarily. He’s the one with the beautiful arms and chest and abdomen and not much else below it,” Kitty added. “I’m not saying you have to forgive him, Maya.”
“And I won’t.”
“I’m
saying that he also sometimes grants the wish they intended without a twist, or he does one better. I want you to think about that,” Kitty said. “Bell hasn’t found a place for you in the circus yet, but there were lots of other ways he could have twisted the wish against you. Or he could have not twisted it at all. It sounded like a pretty open-ended wish. And what would that have done to you? You don’t have to answer, not now. It’s a question all the souls of Arcanium have to ask themselves, and we have eternity to figure it out, if we need that long.”
An annoying bell-like cluster of laughter floated in their direction. Maya looked over her shoulder. Three older teen girls were pointing at Maya and Kitty, unconcerned that the two women saw them pointing at them like zoo exhibits.
“God, I’ve heard stories of ugly dykes and hairy lesbos, but I always thought they were exaggerating,” laughed a girl with big gold hoop earrings and a paisley sarong. “No wonder the chick is suicidal.”
A girl wearing a shirt over leggings giggled. “If I were them, I wouldn’t be flaunting it like that. Nothing to be proud of there.”
“Oh shit, is that why they call them carpet munchers?” the third girl asked, dressed like a sexy fairy tale princess.
Maya didn’t waste time letting their words sink in. If she started getting hurt by them, it would be harder for her to be badass and flip both middle fingers at the girls. It wasn’t like she had to care about her reputation as a teacher anymore. Kitty kept a hand on Maya’s shoulder so that Maya could have the use of both hands.
As Maya did so, she noticed the angry red welts and scrapes on her wrists.
Oh yeah. Those.
After the fire ant torture, they had faded in significance. But that explained the suicidal comment.
“And for the record, I’m not flipping you off because you called us lesbians, because that’s not an insult. I’m flipping you off because you’re vajazzled sphincters,” Maya said, “who aren’t worthy of washing our long and lustrous locks. You only wish your fried hair was this healthy.”
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