Jo had no idea what to make of it. It loomed out of the snow like some eerie monolith, starkly black against the blizzard. It was the biggest building she had ever seen in her life, and by far the most strangely shaped. It seemed to be round, but the wall curved so gradually from where she stood that, were it not for the domed roof, she wouldn’t have been sure.
She had seen domes like that before, in some of the bigger cities’ more elaborate architectural endeavors. But even those tended to be small domes used mostly to ornament an otherwise-normal roof. This one was just a giant dome where a roof should be, set on top of the wall like some kind of lid.
Her trek down into the valley following the trail of the two who’d taken Tumble felt endless, and now that she’d made it to the end the chill had crept back into her bones. She was too dazed to make any sense of the building she’d been led to.
The whole thing was made of some black glassy material, though it must have been stronger than glass to be able to remain so perfectly unblemished in this climate.
And it was unblemished, the sides so reflective that it mirrored its surroundings to dazzling effect. Big lights were spaced evenly around the circumference of it, set ten meters or so from the base and angled so that they didn’t reflect too harshly. The result was that the whole surrounding area glowed like some strange aura.
From the side she stood on Jo could only see one way in: A huge double door that stood out because it was a flat, metallic gray instead of shiny black. And it was exactly where the horse-thieves' trail ended.
Despite the lighter winds down here on the valley floor, Jo was wobbling with exhaustion by the time she finally reached the door. She could see herself, eyes wide and face haggard, reflected like a shadow in the dark glass. Fear ran through her more sharply now, and she briefly wondered if she wasn’t committing the exact same type of foolhardy mistake that Nate had before, when they were attacked.
She told herself no, this was different, this was a living creature she was trying to rescue and not a bunch of expensive gear. And not just any living creature, but Tumble, who had been a steadfast companion for most of her life. The memory of him laying motionless in the snow was all the motivation she needed. With a grunt, she grabbed one of the door’s handles and pulled it open.
Darkness was all she saw at first; partly due to the change from the bright lights outside and partly because it was dark inside. What light did come in through the door illuminated a huge room, its ceiling extending all the way to the top of the building’s dome.
The dirt-and-straw floor and the smell of livestock identified it as some sort of stable, but in all her years of horsemanship she had never known a barn this large. She looked left and right, spotting a more traditionally sized door to the right. There was no sign of anyone and it was perfectly quiet other than the occasional sounds of an animal sighing in its sleep.
Cautiously, slowly, she let the door close behind her. A final gust of cold air rushed in around her ankles, eddying snow along with it, then the room was plunged into total darkness. The warmth was such a relief that Jo stood where she was for a long moment, letting the heat calm her aching, shivering muscles.
When she finally stepped forward, there was a series of clicks as a row of automatic lights flickered to life overhead. They were dim and yellowy, but enough to see by. Jo moved left to the normal-sized door there, but it was locked. This close, though, she could see that part of the wall was on a track. A sliding door, like at any barn, but again much larger.
Jo traced it along to where it latched and undid that, sliding it open as quietly as she could. The scent that rolled out, rich with hay and the earthy, sweet perfume of horseflesh, made her suddenly homesick. She pushed the feeling back.
A new series of lights— this time brighter— popped to life ahead of her, revealing two long rows of stalls. A black nose appeared from one as a more curious occupant came forward to see what was going on.
“Shh, shh…” Jo whispered. “Sorry to disturb you.”
She passed all manner of horse as she walked down the row, all immaculately kept and beautiful. Somehow she wouldn’t have expected horse thieves to take such good care of their charges. None were familiar, though, and she had almost given up hope when she noticed a larger stall at the very end of the row.
Approaching at a tiptoe, Jo peered over the gate in that stall to find Tumble, still unconscious, laying in a bed of fresh hay. He had been given a blanket, too, and a heater set into the wall was blasting out a steady stream of warm air. Two boots that looked as if they’d been hastily removed were laying to the side of his haunches. His belly moved steadily up and down with each breath.
Relief, warmer than even the heat pouring into the stall, flooded Jo. Tears sprang to her eyes. She staggered forward to throw her arms around Tumble’s limp neck, but froze halfway when a sudden voice rang out behind her.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Jo whirled. She was looking at a short woman with a plain but pretty face, with tilted eyes and jet black hair tied up in a bun. She was holding a bucket in one hand, and in the other a halter. Her voice was lovely, and familiar.
“It was you,” Jo gasped. “You took my horse!”
The woman’s face contorted in anger, then confusion and realization rapidly diffused it. “Oh…Oh, shit.” She looked over her shoulder and then back at Jo. “You’re the girl. You— How?”
Angrier by the second, Jo gestured at the coat she was wearing. “You gave me a coat!”
“Shit,” was all the woman said. She set down the bucket and rubbed her temples with the newly freed hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“Just give me my horse,” Jo demanded. The woman looked truly sorry. Which is why Jo didn’t see the knife coming.
Faster than her still-sluggish mind could register, Jo found herself being held around the throat by the short woman, a knife pressed against her throat. She was surprisingly strong. “You have to come with me,” the woman hissed in her ear. Jo nodded, hardly in a position to argue.
She noticed the woman glance at the stall where Tumble was, with something like sadness in her eyes. There seemed to be a hesitation, then she said, so quietly that Jo could have imagined it: “Just say you’re here for the show.”
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Then they were moving, Jo half-dragged along with her chin up as high as it would go to avoid the blade of the knife digging in. All she knew of their passage was the domed ceiling; looking anywhere but up would have compromised her throat.
The smell of the stables faded, as did the darkness, but Jo didn’t dare ask where they were going. Her heart was pounding so hard that it had set her still-numb hands and feet to tingling painfully. She guessed it was better than them being frozen, though.
“Bex,” the woman called out once they’d finally stopped. “An intruder.” She punctuated the word by releasing Jo with a shove.
She nearly stumbled on her tingling feet. The room they were in was a garish green and tiny, occupied by a strange man sitting at a paper-littered desk. The man had no hair and a strange tattoo running temple to temple across his brow.
“Oh, no,” he said flatly. “He’s not going to be happy about this.”
Jo glared. “I’m not an intruder,” she spat, pointing at the woman who had dragged her here. “She is a horse-thief!”
The man called Bex smiled placidly, his eyes eerily expressionless. “Indeed?” He mused. The lack of emotion in his voice made Jo swallow nervously.
“Yes,” she began. “I saw th… Her, and someone else steal him. I followed them here.”
He smiled coolly at her. “I see.” Then, to the woman who had brought her to him: “Leave her, I’ll sort it out. Timing couldn’t be worse, I’m afraid. The master is in a mood…”
Jo turned back to the horse-thief woman, who met her eyes for a split second -you’re here to see the show, they seemed to remind her- and then left with a nod.
Bex acted as if she weren’t there, picking up a pen to scribble something down for a few moments. Jo just stood there, watching him cautiously, wondering what was happening. He frowned at her after his writing was done, then plucked an old-fashioned phone from somewhere beneath his desk. His steely eyes stayed on Jo as he spoke into the phone.
“Zephyr, we have a situation requiring your presence.”
He winced, then set the phone gingerly back down. “Don’t even think about it,” he said without looking up. Had he seen her eyes flick to the door as she considered her chances of successful escape? It seemed impossible. But even so, she felt an uneasy sense of being watched no matter where those icy eyes were pointing.
Jo tried to canvas the room while keeping her gaze trained on the floor in front of her. She noticed no windows, but other than the bizarre shade of green there was nothing else remarkable. It looked like a small office, amply lit and furnished only with a desk and a pair of cabinets. Papers were stacked everywhere.
“This had better be good,” a voice boomed from directly behind Jo, making her jump. She hadn’t even heard anyone come in. Bex, a strange smile on his face now, just bowed his head and gestured at Jo, who spun around to face the newcomer.
A litany of argument died on her lips. She gaped up at the man, caught by the hawk-yellow eyes that seemed near glowing in the dim (dim? Had he turned off the lights?) light. He was dressed in the finest clothes Jo had ever seen, all black velvet and silk brocade, gold embroidery accenting every perfectly-tailored line.
His face was just as fine, though the sophistication of it somewhat sabotaged by a large devlish grin and eyes that at the moment were wide enough to show whites all around. The long hair framing his face was bright silver, though he didn’t seem near old enough to have more than a stray strand or two of gray. If she had to hazard a guess she wouldn’t have said anything above 36.
He towered over Jo, who was fairly tall herself, but the force of his presence alone was more than enough to cow her. He stepped forward and she nearly fell backwards, staggered by the weight of his gaze and by the rage that radiated off him in waves. That grin was a thing of madness, she knew. There was no mirth in it.
“And just who might you be,” He asked in a dissonantly soft, cultured voice. “To have interrupted our most important rehearsal of the year?”
Jo opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, stammering. She sensed a threat beneath the surface of that purring voice with something visceral; an instinct tied to the sound of rattlesnakes in underbrush and the double-glow of a mountain cat’s eyes in the dark. Alarm bells wailed in her head, urging her to run.
But she was sick of running. And furious at the breadth of what she’d been subjected to these past weeks at the behest of men. She thought of Nate’s warm eyes, of Tumble’s happy snorts when she greeted him in the morning, and of every god-forsaken frozen step in the wastes they had been forced to take. In those memories she found a rage of her own, and stood as tall as she could.
“I am the victim of whoever that was that stole my horse!” She seethed at him. “I would never have intruded” -voice dripping with sarcasm on the word- “in this creepy god-forsaken place if I hadn’t been led to it by the thieves who took my property and left me there to die!”
His face was unreadable, untouched by her anger even as her voice grew to a shout. The only change was a slight narrowing of those yellow eyes, turning them even more hawklike as he looked her up and down.
“Give me my fucking horse back and I will gladly quit this locale forever.”
“Seems to me, they saved your horse,” he said when she was done. Voice still low and controlled. It dripped sugar and venom in equal parts; poisoned honey for her ears. “But I do see your point about the inconvenience…”
Wariness, rather than hope, bubbled in her chest. She took another step back without realizing it.
“Because they saved you, as well, by mistake.” His smile stretched wider, gleeful now, and his entire demeanor shifted to something dramatic and inviting. It reminded Jo faintly of one of the actors she’d met during the autumn festival back home. “A shame to go through all the trouble of nearly dying, for nothing.” A glint in those mad eyes. “I do hate to waste time.”
Something clamped around both of her arms like iron. She yelped. Bex had grabbed her from behind, and somehow his face was crisscrossed with strange markings now, as if his tattoo had somehow spread. He grinned a mouthful of inhumanly sharp teeth at her and forced her around to face his desk again.
No amount of struggling seemed to have any effect on the man’s grip. Jo screamed and thrashed. Movement by the desk caught her eye and she saw an animal she’d never seen before skulking towards her; it was huge and catlike, but three times as big as the biggest mountain-cat she’d ever seen. And instead of brown-gray fur this monster was the deep orange of a monarch butterfly, crossed all over with black and white.
It wasn’t a lion (she’d seen plenty of those in pictures), but it could have been related to one. Its head was the size of Jo’s entire torso, and its lolling, open mouth revealed fangs long enough to punch clean through a human skull ear-to-ear.
A different kind of fear, the ancient desperate fear of prey, turned her knees watery. The cruelty of either of these men might be unspeakable, but she could quantify and fight against it. She knew of men. She didn’t know of this monster of tooth and claw, and death seemed to yawn over her as those drooling teeth drew closer.
“Kill her,” that elegant voice ordered.
Memories seemed to rapid-fire cycle in her panicked brain, and in desperation she latched onto what the horse-thief had told her. It seemed like nonsense. But, with nothing to lose, Jo shouted: “I’m here to see the show!”
And everything seemed to freeze.
