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?”

Bell pounded the back of the sword swallower just as he slid a fencing sword into his mouth. Misha coughed. A splatter of blood stained his sickly pallor.

“Oh God,” Maya exclaimed, reaching for him. But she paused, helpless. She was a health teacher, not a nurse or a doctor.

“He’s used to it by now, poor, unhappy man,” Bell said. “He had to learn how to do his acts the hard way, and I won’t let him take the easy route out. He is not permitted to die.”

Misha pulled the sword from his throat. His mouth seemed unnaturally red, especially in contrast to his sallow, waxy skin. He looked miserable as he met Maya’s gaze, but he shook his head against her concern when she made to check him again.

“Keep no sympathy in your heart for him,” Bell said. “His debt is not yet repaid. He well earned his punishment. Remember, Misha,” Bell murmured in his ear, “I could have given you worse things to swallow than swords.”

Misha wiped the blood from his lips and lowered his head until Bell passed him by. Then he took the smeared sword and brought it back to his mouth, sliding it in then back out again in two swift, smooth motions. Next to him was a rolling table with a number of sharp implements laid out, including large-gauge needles, nails, several hooks and a broad array of thin swords.

“You mean you made him figure out how to use these by trial and error?” Maya asked in horror.

“I told you, Maya. Save your sympathy,” Bell said.

“Jesus H. Christ, what did he do?” Maya said, not bothering to shield her accusation. Bell was as good as forcing the man to torture himself.

“It’s okay. The perforation has healed,” Misha said, putting a hand on her shoulder. His voice was raspy. He still looked sick, the downturn of his eyebrows imploring her, but she didn’t know for what.

If it was rescue he sought, she wasn’t his girl.

“What is it with everybody here?” Maya said loudly. “It is not fucking okay.”

“His deeds and his wish are between myself and Misha,” Bell said.

He knuckled Misha’s chin up to meet his eyes. Misha nodded, their secret passing between them. Bell patted his cheek with unbridled contempt.

“Back to work,” he told Misha.

He didn’t need to raise his voice for the command to sink in.

“You’re a cruel bastard,” Maya said as Bell led them away from Misha and into the ring, where two men were working on a pair of trapeze swings.

“If you say so,” Bell said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Maya asked. “Everything you do…”

“Do not condemn me for what I haven’t done,” Bell said, abruptly taking Maya by the shoulders. “I am no crueler than random, no kinder than chance. My whim and will are as inevitable and unstoppable as the whim and will of the weather. You do not know my intentions. You do not know my purpose. You do not know me.”

“I know I didn’t deserve this,” Maya said. “How many others didn’t?”

“You don’t deserve what?” Bell asked. “Walking around bored in a leather outfit on a summer day? Do you even realize what I could have done with such a wish? What I still can do if it is my will to do so?”

He brought his hands closer to her neck, running his thumbs over the length of her collarbone until they met in the hollow of her throat, but he didn’t so much as press.

“It has been a long time since you have exercised that imagination rusty in your skull, but I know the same mind that invented tales of adventurous earthworms and shape-shifting princesses in your youth could conjure up more inventive tortures I could devise for you, if it were my will.”

Blood rushed into her cheeks and ears. She hadn’t thought about the stories she’d made up during elementary recesses in ages. How had he known about that?

“Even if you could have done worse, is that supposed to inspire admiration?” Maya asked. “I should take a bad situation and just thank God it wasn’t worse?”

Bell drew closer, but he kept some space between them as he pointed to the two men practicing. She didn’t remember seeing them perform, so she must have left the tent before their act. It was a shame, too. Now that she was watching them instead of arguing, they quickly captivated her with their precise, sensuous routine.

“I only cursed them into constant contact,” Bell murmured. “They aren’t perceived as freaks in the strictest sense, although they know better. But from their pain comes such beauty—beauty that even they recognize. And though they despise me, they revel in the abilities that I gave to them. There were far more intensive curses in my repertoire. I chose to save them for a worthier pair.

“Now,” he said, guiding her backstage once more, “you have also met some of my voluntaries, those who asked to be part of the circus. Or, more precisely, they wished it and can stay for as long as they choose under my proprietorship and protection. Carlo, Kitty, Troy, most of the demons. But there are others who wish their way into the circus for less noble reasons, such as these.”

He brought her to the large trailer cages. Sliding, solid metal doors would hide the animals within during travel, but right now the doors were open to reveal the bars, and behind them, the lion and tiger, who stared with wary, uncommon intelligence at Maya and Bell.

There had been people in the cages before and no animals. The people had to have become the animals themselves.

Maya flinched as the male lion rose from where he’d curled in the corner. He slouched heavily over to her. Bell kept her still. His palm exuded heat as he brought it down her arm—barely touching her. Then he took her hand and guided it between the bars.

The thing about big cats was that they always looked smaller than Maya expected until they got really close. Then she’d realize that most of the animal, at least five times as big as a petite woman like Maya, was pure muscle.

Maya released the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding as the lion approached her hand, his giant maw just inches away. She knew there was a person under that lion pelt and that he wouldn’t hurt her. But the lion’s teeth were real and deadly, the paws large enough to break her neck and the claws large enough to tear a good piece out of her face in the process, if she were all the way in the cage and not just her hand.

The lion lowered his head to push against her hand, like a very giant cat asking for head scratches. Maya tentatively obliged. The hair was just as coarse as it looked, and yet when Maya stroked into the rough, she didn’t think she’d ever experienced anything as amazing as this.

“Are they in here all the time?” Maya asked. She flinched again when the lion let loose a series of low motorboat growls, but he bumped his head against her hand again, so she figured it was the big cat version of a purr.

“Except for performances,” Bell said. “Believe me, as with Misha’s punishment, this level of captivity was well earned. And like Misha, they know their place. They can only hope that the debt is repaid sooner rather than later.”

“I still think you’re a cruel bastard,” Maya said, but she was too entranced by being so close to the lion. “Animals weren’t made for this.”

“I would never treat one of these real animals this way,” Bell said.

“So you only reserve your cruelty for human beings. Nice.”

“Only human beings are crafty enough to deserve consequences…and try to avoid them,” Bell said. “If I told you Arcanium’s animals threatened my circus while they were still human, would you believe they earned their fate?”

“I’d think if what they did was illegal, they deserved justice. As in, the justice system,” Maya said.

“Is this not a prison?” Bell said. He grasped the bars of the tiger’s cage, one of his golden rings clanking against the metal. “Does humiliation and containment not accompany human prisons as well? You only call me cruel because I deal it myself at my discretion, and my motivations are a mystery to you.”

“Is that what you think you are? A judge?” Maya said.

“I am a fortune teller,” he replied. “And a man of business.”

Maya closed her eyes. Her only consolation was that he seemed to be just as evasive with everyone else.

 

* * * *

 

Once the golems really got started, running around the big top like giant ants to make sure everything was ready, Maya backed out of the way between the big cat cages. About thirty minutes to show, the oddities filled up the large backstage area wearing their performance costumes.

The dynamics from the morning continued into the evening. The demons mostly stayed near other demons, and the humans—voluntary and cursed—congregated with other humans. All of them avoided the Ringmaster when he entered, and curiously, they avoided the clowns as well, who remained as tight-lipped as in last night’s performance.

Kitty entered the tent last, working a brush through Joanne and Jane’s hair as she navigated around their strange, shuffling gait. When they stopped moving, Kitty’s fingers flew, twining their hair together in a complicated braid-like rope to complement their fused spines.

As soon as she’d twisted a rubber band in and tied the ribbon, she moved on to Valorie. Working with about a dozen pins she’d stored in her beard, Kitty braided Valorie’s wheat-blonde hair to halo and frame her face out of the way of her contortions.

Afterward, Maya watched Valorie stretch with unfettered envy. Who wouldn’t want to be able to wrap their legs around their own neck?

“Places, everyone,” the Ringmaster declared.

Maya had never seen a group of people silence themselves so fast and completely.

The clowns took fore, with Lord Mikhail and Lady Sasha and their entourage waiting in the wings. The rest of the cast waited to the sides to avoid anyone seeing them when the curtain parted. Kitty continued to move from person to person, fleet-footed and silent after kicking off her sandals. She brushed Christina’s hair and glossed it with some volumizing mousse. She even smoothed some gel over Lars’ head and shaved him down to a clean finish. She wiped the rest of the gel off with a cloth while Seth snickered without a sound behind his hand.

After handling everyone else, she tapped Bell’s shoulder and nodded in Maya’s direction. Bell shook his head. Kitty’s beautifying services would not be needed tonight. So Maya probably wasn’t going to go out into the ring for some impromptu performance or as an unfortunate prop. No chances of anyone she knew seeing her and telling everyone and their dog that Maya DeLuca had lost her marbles and joined the circus.

After the clowns had finished their act and the Ringmaster had entered the ring, Bell beckoned her to the wings. Maya would have preferred to stay with the big cats, but one of the golems opened the lion’s cage and led him away to Christina and Carlo, who were lifted to the lion’s back. Carlo was able to climb on with some help from Troy, the Tattooed Man. Christina perched on the mane like a girl splayed on a rug.

Maya reluctantly left the cage area to join Bell.

“They won’t be able to see,” he whispered and guided her in front of him, pushing the curtain to the side so that she could peer out. She cautiously leaned forward.

Lady Sasha and Lord Mikhail went out into the ring, the curtain closing behind them, but Maya kept her eyes on Lord Mikhail in particular, his back just as attractive as his front. She couldn’t help but ogle at the way his rear worked under his leather pants. Maya shifted under Bell’s grasp, but he didn’t let her slip from under his touch.

Bell’s hand on the bare skin of her shoulders was doing things to her that she didn’t want to think about, because it simply wasn’t okay for her to be feeling this way—especially with a demon kidnapper. The place where he touched her prickled, not unpleasantly.

She didn’t want it to turn her on, that or the caress of his breath against her ear and over her neck. It took all her willpower not to tilt her head and present her neck to him, a completely involuntary and unwanted response. What’s more, it seemed to come out of nowhere, pre-wish flirting notwithstanding. All of those raging hormones were supposed to have taken a back seat to fear and hatred, plain and simple.

“Don’t worry,” Bell murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “It’s not you. As succubus and incubus, Lady Sasha and Lord Mikhail are very useful for adult-only entertainment. However, lest that concern you, they aren’t allowed to screw the cast.”

Bell seemed to know exactly what his purring of the word ‘screw’ did to her, but he didn’t do more than tease. She doubted her clenched teeth were the reason why.

“Even with our ‘no touching’ policy, they do manage to keep Arcanium pretty sexually charged for cast and audience alike, especially in the evening. You might just find yourself jerking your boyfriend off in public where all and sundry can see you.”

“Oh God, you saw that?” she asked.

Her face flushed again, but now the heat suffused the rest of her body. And the whole time she couldn’t stop watching Mikhail flex those amazing, gleaming muscles and display his assets—spiced with memory accents from last night in the RV, different muscles, different assets, different actions, different man. Her mind spun in a lustful haze.

“No one else saw,” he said. “I assure you, everyone else in the audience was more concerned about what was going on between their own legs, enthralled by their sex demon of choice or inspired into sordid deeds with their partners as well.”

“I’d bet five dollars you were looking for me,” Maya muttered.

A slight rustle. Then he produced a five-dollar bill before her eyes. Maya clutched the curtain as he slid it into her corset between her cleavage.

“Now you can look,” he said, “if you desire.” He’d said that word deliberately too, and she tried not to show him that it got to her.

She didn’t look. She was no voyeur. What consenting adults did with each other, even in public, was none of her business. Besides, Mikhail was tasty enough to watch all by himself.

“What is it, Valorie?” Bell asked. He didn’t sound annoyed, just slightly inconvenienced.

Maya tore her gaze away from Mikhail bench pressing three golems on a plank to catch Valorie whispering in Bell’s ear. Bell glanced briefly at Valorie’s lips then crooked a finger at Kitty to take his place with Maya.

Maya kept her eyes on Bell and Valorie as Valorie led them into the shadows, but not far enough to conceal Valorie pulling Bell to her by the waist of his trousers and kissing him. He kissed back as ferociously as she held him against her.

Valorie opened her eyes and looked directly at Maya.

Oh no, she didn’t just warn me off her man.

Maya hadn’t wished herself in, damn it. She would much rather be in her own apartment with a hot chocolate and a romcom than here trying to puzzle out the disquieting motivations of an evil jinni.

Maya rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the show. If Valorie wanted him, fine by her. In fact, Maya wished her the best distracting Bell away, especially when the incubus and succubus in the ring were really turning on the charm.

With Kitty watching the show over her shoulder, Maya found it much easier to concentrate on the demons in the ring and not the one that had been behind her.

Kitty also took the opportunity to hand her a small glass jar of some kind of cream and whispered for Maya to apply it to her injured wrists. They had scabbed over by now, although they were a little swollen and still stung when she touched them. They were the wounds of a captive. Maya would be happy to see them go.

The cream was silky and smelled like jasmine and peppermint. It hit her skin with the same bracing coolness of spearmint mouthwash, almost immediately soothing her injuries.

When Maya tried to return the jar to Kitty, Kitty whispered, “Keep it. Apply it in the morning and evening. It’s not a magic potion or anything, but it should speed the healing process and make them feel better in the meantime.”

Maya tucked the jar under her corset with the five-dollar bill. It wasn’t like she had anywhere else to put things in this outfit.

She supposed it had been too much to hope that the jinni would leave her alone for the rest of the show and let Kitty stay. But eventually, Valorie had to go on with the rest of the oddities, and Bell returned, more tousled than before, his lips flushed and his neck marked from Valorie’s demonstrative affection. Kitty deferred to her boss.

Once Lord Mikhail and Lady Sasha stopped performing, the sexual tension decreased. Slightly. At least Maya could breathe again without the constriction of the corset, the brush of fabric against her nipples and Bell’s emanating heat and his hand driving her up the wall.

“Don’t you have an act?” Maya asked Bell in the midst of the oddity display in the ring. The only oddity who hadn’t joined them was Kitty, who had settled onto a pink, floral chaise longue with a generous glass of wine.

“Sometimes,” Bell replied. “Not tonight. Tonight I am your guide, mentor and master.”

“You wish,” Maya retorted.

“If only my will could exact my own wishes,” Bell said as Seth and Lars began their routine.

Beneath the two young men, Valorie, Christina and Carlo did their own slow routine under the spotlights. Their acrobatics were intended to enhance rather than distract from the aerial acts. It really was quite breathtaking, especially with the blue light and symphonic metal playing through the routine. This was the Cirque du Soleil influence Kitty had mentioned, and it was no less awesome in a small, out of the way, low-rent circus than it was on a well-produced stage with a large cast of capable gymnasts and dancers.

“Actually, it’s been decades since I’ve had a lovely assistant for my magician act,” Bell murmured, his lips teasing her ear again. “I think it would fulfill the conditions of the wish if you submitted to my will in such a way. All your deeds in the ring done in my service, reflective of my skills.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Maya snapped.

Bell covered her mouth with his hand to remind her that they weren’t having their discussion in a vacuum—or an empty tent.

“You were a teacher,” Bell said. “You are accustomed to performing with a smile whether you want to or not. I’m sure you could plaster on a lovely one while I levitate you or make you disappear.”

“Absolutely not,” Maya said. “And no sawing in half.” She didn’t believe a single trick Bell might do to her would be illusion. She couldn’t help but think of Misha, the blood that had bubbled up on his lips and his resignation.

“No saws,” Bell agreed. “I have more interesting intentions for you.”

After Seth and Lars, a single, inseparable shadow, had clambered over the catwalk above their heads and left, Valorie, Christina and Carlo’s act became the main attraction. Lennon joined them, infusing their lower-key feats of flexibility and limbless strength with much-needed, bounding energy that reminded Maya of the clowns.

In the background, Joanne and Jane juggled by themselves and, with a cry of awe from the crowd, to each other, the balls weaving a complicated knot in the air. Misha stabbed and hooked himself, braving the pain he risked and performing like a practiced showman, as though he had no fear. Troy helped him, juggling swords before handing them to Misha.

Then the Tall Man and Short Man circled the lion, directing it like a giant and his jester, until the Ringmaster pulled the metaphorical reins from their comedic hands and concluded the show by making the lion do tricks with the controlled snap of his black bullwhip.

“I’ll have to think on this a little longer,” Bell whispered. “Make my plans.”

If that wasn’t the utterance of a mustache-twirling villain, Maya didn’t know what was.