Kitty tried not to snort and failed.
“Whatever,” gold hoops girl said. All three girls had the same disgusted curled lips as they walked away, as though they’d smelled something rank—which, in all honesty, could have been Maya at that point.
“Vajazzled sphincters?” Kitty asked, snickering.
“I’m so glad I’m not a teenager anymore,” Maya said. “What an insufferable developmental stage.”
“But you taught them, right?” Kitty said.
“It’s this insane belief that I can make a difference if I catch them early,” Maya replied. “I know it’s a fool’s errand, but I have to try. Had to try.”
“Thanks, by the way,” Kitty said. “I usually do a variation on the hair comment when the shallows make comments like that, too.”
“Curiosity and disgust are natural reactions, but for God’s sake, people need to learn how to keep their mouth shut and use their brains,” Maya said. “Drives me batty.”
Kitty cocked her head with an expectant look on her face that Maya decided to ignore.
“Where were we?” Maya asked.
“Wishes,” Kitty said. “Don’t use them.”
“Wait a second. Them?”
“Three is the traditional number,” Kitty replied. “Historically, the first is foolish, the second is to take back the first, and the third is more considered as a result, but you always wish for more when your wishes are over. By that point, though, the power of the wish becomes void, and you’re stuck with your own meager powers.”
“Man, and I thought I was bleak.”
“That’s according to the stories,” Kitty said. “It doesn’t always work that way with Bell, but there are only three wishes. I recommend holding off on using your wishes immediately. Never use them idly or when you’re under the grip of a strong emotion. In fact, erase the word from your vocabulary unless you mean to invoke Bell’s power.”
Kitty stroked Maya’s hair with the tenderness and sadness a mother might show for a child lost in a world larger than her ken. “If you wish to be let go or for your ex’s wish to be taken back, it won’t go how you expect it to. Bell just got you. He won’t be ready to let you go any more than he was any of the others he decided belonged in Arcanium. If you wish for your freedom, he could release you…into space. Or release you and give you a brain-eating amoeba. Or release you and have a series of unfortunate events befall you and everyone you care about. But there’ve been those who successfully requested their release with no repercussions because they waited for the right time.
“If you want my advice on the matter,” Kitty said, “strike all wishes from your mind and accept your fate—for now. Hold off until you know Bell better, until you truly know what you want. Wishes are fleeting. Wait until they become desires, prayers, needs. And when you know Bell, you’ll know when your wishes are finally parallel with his own.”
“So it’s about his wishes, really,” Maya said with bitterness like poison on her tongue.
“Now you’re beginning to understand.”
Chapter Four
Maya and Kitty passed back through the gate into Arcanium, and Kitty stepped away, letting go of her arm.
Kitty seemed like a nice woman, not the kind one might expect would join a demonic circus, but it was a relief to not still be attached to her as the sun coursed toward hot high noon.
“What do I do now?” Maya asked.
“If Bell doesn’t have a task for you, then you can do whatever you like, as far as I know,” Kitty replied. “I’m free in the back of my tent until two when I’ll have to perform for Oddity Row. I’ll try to remember to bring you something for those injuries on your wrist before the show.”
“No, I mean what do I do with Bell?” Maya asked.
“Ah.” Kitty stroked the hair on her neck in thought. “The answer is mostly the same.”
“Like, do I suck up to him to get him to grant my wishes fairly or…?” Maya asked.
“No, no, no, don’t do that,” Kitty said. “Bell can smell ingratiation a mile away. He won’t believe it, and it won’t put you in his good graces. He’ll respect you more if you sincerely hate him.”
“But I have to live with him,” Maya said.
“Then do whatever you have to do to live with him peaceably, like you would any unpleasant roommate,” Kitty replied. “Just be yourself. Be angry if you feel angry. Be sad if you’re sad. Eventually he’ll give you something to do, and I’d recommend doing it to the best of your ability, because Bell’s first love is Arcanium. But whatever he gives you, it probably won’t be unpleasant. You’re here because of someone else’s wish, not your own error. Even if you hate him, he won’t hate you.”
“Kitty, wait,” Maya said as Kitty headed back into the faire.
Kitty turned around just past the gate and leaned into the bars. She really had the loveliest chestnut hair, which the sun had turned copper.
“Have you made your other wishes?”
“You mean after wishing myself into Arcanium?” Kitty asked. Her blue eyes seemed to darken. “Yes. I deliberately used them up. I wished for my own RV where everything from my tent would magically appear when we’re on the road, because I didn’t want the golems touching my things. Then I wished for an ice cream cone.”
“Why’d you go and do that?”
“Because I wanted to rid myself of the temptation of wishing my hair away,” Kitty said. “It’s hard for normals like you to understand, I know. Maybe you’ll get it one day.”
Kitty reached through the bars and tugged Maya’s hair with an affectionate smile then disappeared back into the faire proper, where the guests had broadened from a trickle to a crowd.
Maya walked the edge of the fence, but not with the intent of looking for a way out this time. She just wanted to see how small her world had become.
The Arcanium exhibits radiated from the big top in the center, as though it were the body of a mutant spider. A few people in black peasant clothes manned food booths, some with the usual fare of corn dogs and turkey legs, fried mushrooms, grilled corn and drinks. One sold ale and root beer. The food booth right in front of Oddity Row aptly carried oddities of its own, like fried crickets, chocolate-covered ants and calamari.
Between every other Row tent, which were closed until the exhibits opened at two, one of the darkly dressed staff waited next to a small table of postcards, prints, keychains and picture jewelry of the oddities and other related souvenir paraphernalia.
It was somewhat ironic that the staff members creeped Maya out more than the cast. When she walked past them, they looked blank, like exceptionally lifelike mannequins or dolls. They glanced at her if she came close enough, but they said nothing nor watched her leave. When people from the faire came through, casing the circus before making plans to come back, the staff awoke a little more—with all the energy of your average mall food court employee, but at least then they seemed alive. Kitty and Bell had called them golems. Maya wasn’t sure what that meant, although the word sounded familiar.
In addition to the food booths, Oddity Row, the big top and Bell’s fortune teller tent, there were elephant and camel rides and a row of creepified midway games. But the main attractions seemed to be the Row in the afternoon, the ring in the evening and the carousel.
From a distance, the carousel could have been any other carousel. However, once Maya got closer, the scent of elephants, hay, cotton candy and roasted corn combined to help form the memory of her first real look at it.
Arcanium’s carousel was a spinning contraption of brass gears and rococo accents, painted in rich reds, deep, plum purples, brassy brown and black unfaded by days in the sun. At the center, a member of the staff worked the mechanics, costumed to blend in with the oxidized brass cogs around him. Then, around the circle, a steampunk nightmare to tie in with Arcanium’s claim to fame. The horses were painted bright, stately colors, but one had an alligator’s tail. Another had giant squid tentacles for legs. Another had a wicked
unicorn’s horn. Another was zombified. Another had a human arm in its mouth. And in addition to horses, there was an angry octopus, a giant snake, a giant spider, a horse’s skeleton, even a few human beings harnessed and bound like victims of Cenobites.
Jesus. They let kids ride this?
She kept walking, reached the front gate again then doubled back to the caravan on the other side of the compound. Lights were strung up over poles around them, falsely festive for a purgatory. Just from looking around the lot, Maya knew which trailer was the Ringmaster’s. Aside from Bell’s RV—with which she was already familiar—it was the largest and most luxurious vehicle. The rest were small to downright tiny—some old, the paint chipped, tires threadbare and just waiting for the first large rock to pierce through.
“Need anything?” Lennon asked, sauntering around one of the trailers, wearing his human face. He had eaten half a green apple. Now he took a great big bite and grinned as he chewed.
“I was just going to have a shower,” Maya said, inching away. “How does a person do laundry around here?”
“For our washables, we stop by a laundromat when we travel,” Lennon replied. “Sasha takes care of the leather. None of us right knows how, and no one wants to ask.” He pressed his tongue to one of his canines as he grinned at her. “Need help with the shower?”
“Hell to the no, dude. Stay away from me,” Maya said.
“Just a question,” Lennon asked. He took another bite and walked past her, nudging her arm with his.
Maya shivered, her shoulders crawling up to her ears.
She half expected Bell’s trailer to be locked like any self-respecting American’s vehicle or home, but it opened for her. With Lennon on her mind, she considered locking the door herself, but she decided against it. If a demon wanted in, she doubted a lock would stop him.
She didn’t know what else to do to replace her dirty clothes, so she guiltily searched through the drawers and closet in the bedroom until she found a robe that looked like it belonged to Bell. She hung it on the door before removing her clothes and turning on the shower. The stall was small, but she’d showered in smaller during college. Stealing some shampoo, conditioner and soap, Maya scrubbed away the thin layer of grime and grease on her skin, including the salt licks that had accumulated in her various nooks and crannies.
When she emerged, she felt more or less like a civilized human being again. She moisturized with lotion she found under the sink then wrapped the robe around her to go out into the living area away from the billow of hot, moist air.
“Hello,” Bell said. He was waiting for her just outside the bathroom, blocking her way into the living area. His arms were crossed over his chest. He held something black bundled in one hand.
“How long were you there?” Maya asked.
“Five minutes or so,” Bell replied. “You need a costume.”
“I have a costume,” Maya said. She looked down where her clothes had been crumpled into a haphazard, filthy pile.
Bell followed her gaze and clicked his tongue. “Not anymore,” he said. “It was appropriate for faire but not for Arcanium. You’re cast now, even if your role is yet unclear.”
He handed her the black bundle. It included a pair of black underwear, a short leather skirt flared with black tulle, a boned, laced underbust corset and a black cotton shirt—much skimpier than her white one, which had already shown quite a bit of her cleavage. This one would drape a simple fold of fabric over her arms in lieu of sleeves. On the floor in front of the bed was a pair of lace-up black boots.
“We usually wear brown or tan leather at the Renaissance faires,” Bell said, “but Sasha insisted you needed black, and I agreed. You’ll be able to wear it for the Halloween theme parks and sex festivals as well.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Maya asked, shoving the clothes back at him. “I’m not wearing this. It’s obscene.”
“I think I’m your owner and your boss,” Bell replied, pushing them back into her arms. “If you don’t put them on, I can always bring the golems in to force the issue. Or I can do it myself.” Once again, his threats seemed entirely nonthreatening, his manner and tone matter-of-fact. The man was unflappable.
The man is immortal, a little voice in the back of her mind added in warning as she backed into the bedroom and closed the door. Bell stopped her from closing it all the way, but his shadow didn’t darken the opening and she didn’t see his eye peering through to perv over her, so she let it go and began to pull on the costume. It felt like an S&M club’s answer to a French maid outfit. Granted, it didn’t look any more revealing than the outfits of the rest of the cast—including Bell’s, when she thought about it. But the costume fit her like second skin, and she felt entirely too exposed. She hadn’t worn a skirt this short since high school, and she really wasn’t in high school anymore.
She pulled the shirt’s sleeves up over her shoulders, stretching the material to form a cap. It didn’t make her decent or demure by any means, her breasts barely contained beneath the neckline, but at least it covered a bit more.
And she’d thought her Renaissance faire costume had been pushing it.
Next, Maya pulled on the boots and tried to tie on the corset.
“How does this even work?” Maya muttered through clenched teeth as she groped her way across her back to find the eyelets. There was no way one woman could tie her own corset like this. Her old costume corset had had hooks in the front. She tried turning it around with the laces over her abdomen, but the boning hadn’t been tailored for her to wear it like that. She huffed in frustration.
“Allow me.” He had slipped in without her noticing, his bare feet stealthy in the midst of her distraction.
He grasped both sides of the corset and tugged them sharply together. Maya gasped, holding her stomach. It wasn’t quite the rib-crunching abuse that a Victorian lady would have had to endure, but it still pushed the breath out of her. His low laughter came to her in vibrations through his fingers. But once he got the leather cord through the first few eyelets, his movements became fast and economical, the swish of the leather final to her, as though him binding her in the corset bound her to him as well.
“I take it you’ve done this before,” Maya said.
“I used to do this when corsets were fashion and not costume. These are far easier,” Bell replied. “There. Now you should only have to loosen it when you want to take it off.”
He trailed his fingertips over the stretch of her shoulders that was bare then brushed the sleeves down over her arms where they belonged.
“I believe this was how it was intended to be worn,” Bell said.
She couldn’t see him, but she could tell he was grinning.
“Jerk,” Maya said. “I’ll bet you were just waiting to see me in this.”
“I wasn’t the one who arranged for the costume. Sasha made it. She has a particular talent for leather,” Bell replied. “And in case you didn’t notice, skin and sex is hardly a precious commodity here. Your costume is for you to fit in as a member of the circus, nothing more.”
Breath rushed cool against her neck as he tucked her hair behind her ear. Maya jerked away and whirled around. Her back hit the wall. She couldn’t figure out where to put her arms. Everything she did to defensively cross her arms around her body seemed to call attention to her breasts.
“Were you smelling me?” Maya asked. She finally settled her forearms against her stomach but kept her upper arms from plumping her breasts over the slight fabric.
“Just appreciating the improvement,” Bell said. His sensual lips curved in a smile too subtle to be a grin. “Backstage at seven. If you need anything to eat, raid the fridge or stop by any of the food booths. They’ll feed you whatever you like, no charge. But don’t be late.”
“Or else?” Maya asked.
“Or else I’ll have the clowns use you as a prop in the next performance,” Bell replied, “which will be more unpleasant than it sounds, especially since I
would have to silence you. And I don’t want to have to do that,” he added, stroking her lips lightly before withdrawing from the bedroom.
Maya watched him leave then touched her lips when the door closed.
* * * *
She wasn’t late. For the last hour, she had been obsessively asking people with watches—including some of the golems—what time it was. She arrived eating a corndog, which was tasty in a comfort food sort of way, but it was going to get old fast if this kind of food was the only fare available.
She had caught peeks of Oddity Row, but she didn’t think she was quite ready to see it in full. All those people exclaiming and talking so loudly about how weird and strange and gross everyone was in loud voices… The oddities looked different, but they weren’t deaf.
Not to mention Maya had in the back of her head the memory of inhuman faces, beings who might bite the hands of nosy onlookers who got too close.
So she’d avoided Oddity Row and instead sat on a bench near the gate, watching people come and go. She’d tried to sit in such a way that no one could look up her skirt, but she’d caught a few boys and men who had given it the old college try. Since all of them had done so surreptitiously rather than being obnoxious about it, she didn’t mind too much. She didn’t have the best legs in the world—shapely rather than coltish—but Maya liked their strength, and in this damn petticoated leather, she showed an awful lot of leg.
If eating a corndog while in her present get-up drew a few gazes as well, there was nothing for it.
“I wanted you here early so that you could see what we do before a show. The golems take care of the grunt work, checking the sound and making sure the catwalk is safe and Seth and Lars’ aerial set is in position,” Bell said, drawing her deeper into the backstage sanctum, darker now than it had been during breakfast. “Some of our more intensive acts involve at least a little practice, even though our lost souls know the acts backward and forward whether they want to or not. Isn’t that right, Misha?”
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