Blindly, not knowing where she was going or which way would get her there, Jo ran. She flew past stables and cages of all shapes and sizes and wanted only to get as far as she could from Silas.
After a few uncertain moments where she thought she might be lost, she recognized the elephant stalls and sprinted past them to skid to a stop in the main stable yard. There was no sign of anyone else, and Silas’s chilling laughter had finally died away. She stopped to catch her breath.
Tumble. He was alive still. Probably weak still, but she could get him and run as far as she could go. She would take her chances with the wastes, gladly. Mind made up, she took one more slow breath and ran down the horse stall corridor.
A hand on her arm stopped her just before she got to the stall where he was being held. Jo whirled, hand automatically flying to a not-there holster, and found herself facing a very distressed Lorraine.
“Don’t,” she said softly. It was a plead more than anything. Jo glanced down to the girls hand thinking to shake it off, and froze.
“What the-”
Lorraine didn’t flinch or release her grip. She just lifted the hand, and Jo’s arm along with it, to be better visible in the light.
Jo gawked. She couldn’t make any sense of what she was seeing. Lorraine’s hand— the one that was holding tight— no longer looked like a human hand. It had the shape of one still, and Jo could still feel it as if nothing were amiss. But its appearance.
It was like solid darkness. Translucent enough for Jo to be able to see her own arm through Lorraine’s fingers. Yet dark. It seemed to suck in the light at its edges and dodge any attempts to look directly at it. Fear and awe vied for control as Jo stared.
Lorraine’s face is what finally swayed her into awe. The girl was crying. Silent tears that reddened her eyes and made her plainly pretty face somehow beautiful.
“What… What is that?” Jo was too shocked to worry if her phrasing might have been rude.
“My hand,” Lorraine responded with a dry laugh. She let go finally, flexing her fingers so that Jo could see.
“How… What…”
“It’s because of mercy,” Lorraine said. The explanation didn’t make sense, but it was all she offered. Jo thought Mercy must be a person, maybe some other horrible performer in this fucked up circus.
“Mercy?”
“I wish I could tell you more than that.”
“Does it…” Jo glanced up at the woman’s pained eyes. “Does it hurt?”
“Yes. It’s agony.”
They stared silently at each other for a long moment. Lorraine flexed her ghostlike hand again, then pulled a pair of gloves from her back pocket and slipped them on. She looked over Jo’s shoulder and nodded.
“Please, don’t go see Tumbleweed. Not just now. I promise I’m looking out for him.”
Jo looked back at the stall where her beloved horse was, longing nearly overtaking her, but nodded. “Okay,” she told Lorraine. “I’ll wait.”
Gratitude caused a fresh spill of tears on the woman’s face. “Thanks for… Trusting me. Let’s get you the hell out of here, now.”
“Please,” Jo said, following her out.
They found Merrick a short walk from the stable yard, in a large and mostly-empty room with STAGING writ on the door. He was pacing, his face smeared in white grease paint, and wearing pants in a bizarre shade of bright purple.
“Ah!” He exclaimed when the two women entered. “Thank the dark fucking prince.” His eyes shot to Lorraine’s hands and lingered there a moment. Jo was suddenly sure he knew exactly what the gloves were hiding.
“I heard you had a run in with Silas,” he said to Jo. “I’m so sorry. Are… Are you okay?”
Jo tried not to let any of it back into her mind. She nodded curtly and said nothing. Lorraine spoke instead.
“I couldn’t… I can’t watch him. I had to leave her.”
“Len, stop, no apologizing. It could have been worse. And rehearsal has been smooth so far. Zeph is pleased. Let’s not count only our curses.”
“We need to get her out of here, Merrick.” Lorraine’s voice was deadly serious. “I know you’re not in the business of killing, and I think staying here will kill her.”
Ice seemed to fill Jo’s veins at the words. She looked at them with wide eyes. Aside from the minor annoyance of them talking about her as if she were not standing right in front of them, they had to be joking?
Sure it was creepy and awful, and no doubt only creepy and awful people patronized such a circus, but surely she wouldn’t die from it?
“The hell?” Jo asked.
They both turned her way. Merrick rubbed his temples, smearing white makeup onto his hair. Both of them wore identical looks of concern.
“This place isn’t safe, obviously, but it goes maybe… Further than you’d think.” He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully.
“Yeah, I kind of gathered as much when I saw the hand,” Jo quipped. She hadn’t realized how irritated and upset she was til the words spilled out of her. “I don’t know why I stupidly signed up to come anywhere near the wastes, at this point, but I do know that I’m not some rube idiot.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
You people,” she glanced apologetically at Lorraine. “Stole my horse, and when I tried to get him back signed me up for some insane show instead. And to add insult to injury, the two that I thought were at least somewhat trustworthy”—another pointed look here, this time at both of them— “are acting like I’m too chicken-shit to hear exactly how much trouble I’ve gotten myself into here!”
Merrick looked startled, but Lorraine just looked sad. “She’s right, Mer.” His look of surprise shifted towards Lorraine.
“What?”
“She can either go into this knowing what she’s facing, or she can go into it completely oblivious. What sounds like better survival odds to you?”
Merrick was shaking his head. “Len if you do that, you fucking know… You know the rules!”
“I stole the horse, I brought her here, I feel responsible.”
“Well you’re not. I’ve got less to lose. Len-”
Lorraine wasn’t listening. She’d already turned towards Jo with an odd, serene smile. “My stage name is Len,” she began. “In the circus my act is on horseback.”
Jo folded her arms over her chest. She was all ears.
“I also run the gambling tables outside of showtime. And… Well… What do you know of the shadow-damned?”
Exasperated now, Jo rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know, I’ve heard the stories. I told Merrick already, my father used t-” Lorraine held up both gloved hands to stop her.
“Those stories… Are maybe not as made-up as you’ve believed.”
Fear crept up from that memory again; not the fear of an adult but the unknowing, mindless fear of childhood. Jo smiled to try to dispel it. Undeterred, though, dread began to build and her vision sharpened with adrenaline. The electric lights in this room buzzed overhead, a grim soundtrack to the anxious silence.
“In what way?” Jo asked, trying to sound casual.
“Well…” Lorraine drew a sigh. “There is a force at play here. Certain…” She met Merrick’s eyes and he shrugged. “Rules. We are, objectively, the best at doing what it is we do. But if we break the rules?” Here she held up her hand. “Punishment is severe.”
“Rules,” Jo repeated dumbly.
“That’s right.” Merrick jumped in. “But honestly the rest of this is all moot. The only rule you need to concern yourself with is that tomorrow’s sunlight hours are the last chance you’ll have of getting out of here before Kaamos.”
“He’s right. Once dusk falls, there is no leaving until the show is over. And, testing your mettle against this place is not going to end well.”
Jo opened her mouth to argue, but remembered the lion’s fearful eyes in its bloody face. Maybe they were right. She may not be delicate, but if Silas’s performance were any indication of the kinds of spectacle this place entertained, she didn’t want to see any more.
“It all sounds insane,” she muttered. “Or I suppose it would have this morning. I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“Trust me, I know,” Merrick said. “Just get out of here as soon as rehearsal ends and never look back. We’ll hel—shit,” he was peering over Jo’s shoulder now, towards the door. She followed his gaze and jumped.
A woman was standing in the doorway, arms crossed. Tall and slim, she was wearing cartoonish bright makeup, and a figure-hugging bodysuit over striped tights. Her eyes were tilted like Lorraine's, but seemed somehow more catlike.
“And how do you propose to help the interloper, clown?” The woman asked. Her voice was familiar, but her face was not.
“Camille,” Lorraine interjected, stepping up to the woman. “Just leave it. We’re handling it.”
“Wait,” Camille narrowed her eyes at Jo. “Wait a sec. Is that… The dead girl from the snow?!”
The voice clicked into place, then. It was the other person who had been with Lorraine when Tumble was stolen. Jo scowled at her.
“Clearly not, else I’d be dead.”
“Careful,” Camille said, lips stretching into a fiendish smile. “I’m not hard to tempt.”
“Cam, please!” Lorraine begged. “She doesn’t want to stay, we’re just going to make sure she gets out.”
This seemed to placate Camille. She raised her arms up in an exaggerated stretch, reminding Jo again of a cat, and sauntered past them toward what appeared to be a closet door on the opposite wall.
“Fine, little Lenny, but if you’re going to tell her about the rules, you should tell her all of the rules.” She opened the closet and busied herself with rifling through its contents.
“Maybe starting with, I don’t know, how about ‘rehearsal must not be interrupted’!” She withdrew from the closet with a bundle of clothing-draped hangers clutched against her.
“We’re not interrup-”
“Aerial acts, five minutes!” Merrick cut in, staring wide-eyed at the stopwatch he’d pulled out of his pocket. He grabbed Lorraine and Jo both by the wrists and dragged them out the door.
“Seeya later, little sis!” Camille called after them.
Jo stumbled along behind Merrick, who kept up the breakneck pace all the way back to the stables. Her head was spinning with information and she had a million questions- not the least of which was simply is this all some cold-induced hallucination?— but her companions’ obvious stress put her off asking any of them.
“I know,” Merrick said after awhile. He handed her a bucket full of various grooming tools. It felt surreal seeing something so familiar in this place. “I know this is all very cryptic. But, you really are better off knowing less. For your own good.”
Something tugged at Jo’s heart. A memory. She tried to shove it back down but her super well-thought-out plan of coping via not thinking about any of it had reached its limits. Her eyes stung with tears.
“For your own good,” Nate told her with a wink. He was pulling the latigo tight on Cricket’s flank, grinning that shit-eating grin and looking ridiculously cute.
“I can handle it,” Jo said.
“Oh, no doubt!” He nodded gravely. “But better to have back-up in case you… Encounter bad weather.”
Jo gazed up at the clear, blue sky then raised her eyebrows at him. He didn’t miss a beat. Pointing towards the horizon, past the chaparral hills that blew sage- and sand-scented breezes through their hair, he clucked his tongue.
“See that? That clouding in the distance?”
She turned where he was pointing and snorted. A singly, tiny dot of white floated just over the hills. Probably not big enough for even two raindrops. “Oh yes, looks like a storm for sure,” she quipped, turning from him to lift the reins over Tumble’s neck.
“Exactly!” Nate clapped his hands once, a habit of his whenever a decision had been made. “So I’ll come along!”
Jo tossed the reins around the horn and swung into the saddle in one smooth motion, smiling down at him. “Alright, Nathaniel.” She was powerless to resist those bright hazel eyes. Urging Tumble straight into a lope, she called out behind her, “For my own good!”
“Hello?” Merrick’s voice finally cut through the daydream. Jo shook her head.
“Sorry. I was somewhere else. What’s up?”
He looked at her uneasily. “One of the rules is, nobody gets a free ticket. You have to work til Kaamos or you’ll be in breach of that. Even if it’s the tiniest job. Everyone has to earn their way.”
Jo’s neck prickled. His words were eerily reminiscent of what Silas had said. But, she supposed, if it’s a rule then it’s no wonder. She just hoped whatever work they set her to wouldn’t be anywhere near the animal pen where he worked.
“Understood,” she said. “So you want me to muck stalls?”
“Just til dinner,” Merrick promised. She wanted to tell him that she wouldn’t mind mucking 24/7 til she could leave, if it meant avoiding anyone and everyone involved in this wretched, supernatural place.
But she didn’t. She just nodded her goodbyes to them and went for the first stall determined to keep her head down for the rest of the time she had to be here. Horses were easy. Familiar. Horses, she could handle.
Besides, mucking reminded her of home.
