The Trainer strode in amid the combined voice of what seemed to be every animal in the place, entirely unperturbed. In the dim light, his shadow preceded him, stretching eerily across their feet from the entryway like a grotesquely stretched silhouette.

  A prickle of dread was beginning to grow in Jo’s belly. She wanted to attribute it to the noise of the animals, but some instinctive part of her knew that it was the other way around: The animals’ panic wasn’t causing the fear; the fear was causing their panic. They all felt it too.

  “Silas,” Lorraine whispered to Jo. She spat the word as if it were a curse. “He trains the animals.”

  “Ah-ah-ah,” he chided, appearing at last in the doorway. “Secrets to three, death to two.”

  The words were still singsong-y, and he punctuated them by wagging a finger at them; a smiling parent correcting a mischievous child. Though he didn’t look quite old enough to be parent to either of them. His skin was smooth aside from a few lines around the eyes, and his black hair showed no hint of gray. Even the neatly trimmed moustache -obviously painstakingly styled- appeared faultlessly black.

  His outfit was as monochromatic as his hair, from the sleeveless vest that didn’t quite hide his muscular chest to the form-fitting pants and knee-high boots. All black leather, broken only by deep blue embroidery down the shaft of each boot.

  As he swaggered by, swinging a riding crop in one hand, Jo noticed that the animals had all fallen completely silent. It was almost more unnerving than the noise.

  Silas dropped a cheerful wink at Lorraine, then spotted Jo and did a dramatic double take, spinning to face her. “Oooh, are we hiring?”

  “She’s here to see Kaamos,” Lorraine said. “Zeph’s orders.”

  Some sort of silent argument momentarily raged between the two of them, then Silas slicked back his well-oiled black hair and stepped closer. Jo fought the urge to step back.

  He twirled that riding crop of his around and brought the tress of it to Jo’s chin, tilting her head up. She bit down on the flesh of her own cheek to prevent herself from reacting. The outrage at being treated like livestock briefly overpowered Jo’s fear.

  She met his eyes and glared. The delight on his face was plain; his blue eyes practically danced with glee. They were the exact shade of the embroidery on his boots. Deep, dark blue.

  A strange, pleasant tingling began in Jo’s mind as she sank into those eyes, and she felt herself relax. It felt good. All the fear that had been buzzing under the surface dissipated. What had she been afraid of, anyway? That sense of dread that was like loneliness and cold and darkness all rolled into one… Had it ever existed in the first place?

  “Ohh,” Silas whispered. His voice seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere. It trembled pleasantly against all of her senses and she wanted him to keep talking. “I think you want to help me with rehearsal, don’t you, little one?”

  The prospect of that filled her with -YES I DO- excitement. She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, and nodded. The glowy, relaxed sensation was so strong she was nearly lost in it. Silas’s blue eyes filled every recess of her mind. It was ecstasy.

  Then it all vanished. She blinked, feeling cold and empty in the sudden absence. Lorraine was standing in front of her now, blocking Silas from view. She spoke over her shoulder to Jo.

  “Let’s go, I’m bringing you back to Merrick.”

  Silas laughed. “No, you can’t! Merrick’s rehearsing still. His went long, I’m afraid.” He leaned around her to address Jo in a sweet voice. “Come now, child. No one gets in for free. It’s time to earn your ticket!”

  Jo fell in line beside him without a word. She was dazed by the hollow feeling that had replaced that blissful, wonderful warmth.

  Lorraine looked at her, expression taut with fear and worry. Then she looked at Silas. “Sorry,” she mumbled. She was already backing away from the two of them. “I can’t stay here.”

  Silas’s answering cackle sent Lorraine fleeing, and when the last echo of it had died in the oversized stable yard, Jo realized that they were alone. She wanted to be afraid, but some new feeling had taken root inside her and all she felt was a flash of excitement at the thought.

  “Let’s get to work,” Silas growled, resting the end of his crop on the small of her back. He guided her like that, taking them deeper into the stables. Jo made no effort to resist. She was overcome by the desire to have those deep blue eyes meet hers again.

  Each time they passed an occupied stall, the animal inside made noises of distress and backed against the wall. They all seemed to give Silas as wide a berth as possible. But Jo hardly noticed. Her eyes, her attention, her whole mind was on doing everything she could to please him.

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  And when they finally stopped at the gate to a large indoor arena, she shivered as cupped the back of her neck in one hand. His blue eyes seemed to float in her mind.

  “That is Vuori,” Silas announced with a flourish as the lights flicked on around them in a wave. Jo looked where he indicated. In the middle of the arena there sat a massive cage, and something inside bellowed a roar that made her break out in goosebumps.

  “Open!” He cried out. There was a hollow metallic thud; the sound of a lock clicking open.

  “Wait for it…” His voice was gruff with excitement.

  A mighty growl tore out of the cage, and the lion burst from its confinement. It swung its massive, maned head in every direction, hackles standing on end. A predator trying to pinpoint prey. Silas laughed exuberantly when it spotted them.

  Both awed and horrified, Jo’s focus was finally overtaken. She stared at the beast with her mouth hanging open. It roared again, the sound ricocheting off the rafters and rumbling in the floor beneath their feet.

  “In case the audience is ill-informed about the dangers of the panthera leo,” Silas called out, vaulting over the arena gate. “Allow me to demonstrate!”

  He plucked a cloth cover off of something on the ground near the gate, then lifted a massive hock of meat—it looked as if it might have come from a goat— and shook it over his head to show a non-existent audience. He paused, beaming, and flung the meat towards the crouching lion.

  It scented the food immediately and changed direction, diving at the hock and shredding it so quickly that Jo felt sick watching. Blood exploded around it in splatter after splatter as it tore at gristle and crunched bone.

  Silas twirled where he stood and bowed. Blood had splattered his face and throat. A long whip had appeared in his hand. It was embroidered with the same color as that of his boots. The same color as the eyes that now trained once more on Jo’s.

  That warm buzz poured in again, making her nearly shudder with relief and bliss. She wanted the feeling to stay forever. Nothing beyond it seemed important. The past was inconsequential, the future an illusion. All that existed was that moment of feeling pure rapture. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

  Silas stood just opposite the gate with a wicked grin, watching her tremble. He reached out and ran a finger down her cheek. The pleasure of it made her gasp.

  Then he whirled to face center and Jo crashed back to reality once more. She saw that the lion had finished its meal and was now stalking towards them. Silas walked to meet it in the middle, raising the curled whip in one hand.

  “Many a man,” he cried showily, letting the whip’s rope uncoil to the ground. “Has tamed all manner of beast.”

  The lion crouched, the muscles in its haunches rippling visibly even from a distance, and then it leapt into the air. There was a great crack! Jo watched in awe as the lion landed its jump just short of Silas’s boots. He laughed, cracking the whip twice in quick succession, and the lion stood on its hind legs with its massive paws in the air.

  He lowered the whip, facing Jo and baring his back to the lion close enough for one good paw-swipe to separate him from most of his skin.

  “But even the most skillful thereof, must remember that at its most base!” The lion lunged forward and batted at him like an overgrown cat at a mouse, but Silas stepped out of the way just in time and cracked his whip with a guttural shout. “It is still a beast!”

  The lion slunk back, roaring its frustration. Silas brought the whip down and was charged again, both paws nearly landing on his chest. He danced out of the way, raising both arms up, and spun the whip overhead in a circle. The lion snarled and started spinning around in a tight circle as if intent on catching its own tail.

  The speed at which it spun was terrifying. Jo imagined trying to outrun such a beast and broke out all over in goosebumps.

  “No matter how obedient a beast may seem,” Silas continued in his loud show-voice. He cracked the whip and the lion stopped spinning. “It obeys only out of self-preservation.”

  A large ball rolled from a side entrance into the arena. Silas edged his way around the side of the lion, brandishing the whip, and then cracked it at the floor, missing its hind paws by inches. The lion jumped onto the ball and balanced there, the whip lashing out on all sides to keep him motivated.

  “So if you push too hard…” Silas snapped the whip hard on the Lion’s shoulder and it roared in rage. He whipped it again. Blood welled where the blow had landed. The lion snapped, leaping from the ball and knocking Silas to the ground. The whip skittered out of his hand on impact.

  In a moment he was pinned, 500 pounds of cat crushing the air from his lungs as it flexed its jaw open for the killing bite. Jo screamed.

  “The beast’s self-preservation instinct will overcome its fear!” Silas yelled to be heard over her shriek. “Back!” He hissed at the lion then, and, by some miracle, it backed up a step. Then another. And a third. Jo allowed herself to breathe again.

  Freed of its weight, Silas gained his feet. He looked uninjured. The lion appeared frozen. “Remove that instinct… And you’ve truly tamed the beast!” He declared.

  The lion made a pitiful yowling noise as Silas advanced on it. Jo felt whatever daze she’d been in break and fear flooded back in to fill the space. Everything in her was screaming that this wasn’t right, that none of it was right. Cold sweat broke out on her face.

  “Now, bleed!” Silas roared at the lion. It was cowering before him now, ears flat against its head and tail curled under its body. Silas lifted one arm in a grand gestura and slowly traced a line down his left cheek with one finger.

  The lion lifted its paw in unison, revealing one huge claw, and sliced a furrow down its own cheek. Blood poured from the wound, but it made no move to react. Sick horror filled Jo as he repeated the gesture with his right hand. The lion, again, mirrored him.

  “Don’t forget to smi-le!” Silas shouted in that sing-songy voice he’d used in greeting earlier. The lion’s eyes were wide with pain and fear, but it lifted its lips in a grotesque parody of a grin, showing off rows of broken teeth. Blood dripped from the twin wounds on its face, drenching the bright fur and leaking into its mouth.

  Silas kept his eyes on it and once more lifted both arms, and then bowed deeply. The lion, bleeding and still wearing that horrific grin, stood on its hind legs and bowed.

  Jo felt bile rise in her throat and dashed out of the arena to vomit there on the straw-covered floor. She was crying silently, snot and tears mixing with the saliva that dripped from her mouth. She spat.

  “See, love?” Silas’s voice was right behind her. She jumped, scooting backwards to put space between them. He stooped to whisper in her ear.

  “Pleasure is fun, sure, but fear is truly the mother of obedience!”