Rise of the Ringmaster

by Jessica Julien

  “Who was that?” Lottie asked cautiously.

  “It was uh...” I cleared my throat. “That was the hospital. M-my—uh, they said his brain activity stopped this morning.”

  “Oh, Jacob.” Lottie grabbed my hands. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I need to go down and tell them my decision.”

  “Decision?”

  “Whether to keep him on life support or pull the plug.”

  We left for the hospital before anyone at camp was awake. She sat beside me as I signed the papers to end life support, then held my hand while I agreed to allow the hospital to donate his body, and stood by while we watched them turn off the machines.

  The lights had been dimmed and carefully they removed the tubes and detached the wires before leaving us to witness his last breaths alone. We stood in silence as his chest slowed and when it finally stopped, I pulled Lottie’s hand and we left without a word.

  Lottie made coffee quietly in the tiny trailer kitchen before setting box-mix muffins in front of me, fresh from the oven. She puttered around the trailer, giving me space to process. As she began folding towels, a knock sounded on the door.

  “It’s open,” I called, pulling the mug to my mouth to sip the bitter coffee. The trailer door swung open and Theo, the magician, stepped inside.

  “Morning,” he said gloomily, looking at me, then Lottie.

  “What do you want?”

  “The troupe is waiting to hear what you want them to do.”

  I leaned against the seat, my hands still wrapped around the mug. “About what?”

  “Last night…” he shifted his weight uncomfortably at the mention of the unpleasant incident.

  Pinching the bridge of my nose where stress sat heavily from the hunger in my mind I let out a slow measured breath. “Yes, yes. I’ll be right there.”

  The trailer door clicked shut and I ran my fingers through my hair. Shaking out the tension in my shoulders, I reached into the tiny drawers and pulled out a clean polo shirt. It smelled stale, so I pumped a spray of cologne onto it. I heard Lottie inhale the fresh scent.

  “Oooh,” she cooed. “That smells wonderful!” She stood and placed her hands on my chest. “It reminds me of a cozy night looking at the stars.”

  “What?” I smiled for the first time that day, pulling her away to look at her face. Her eyes were closed and she breathed in again.

  “Yes, it’s like a mix of fresh rain, a handsome man, and a little bit of romance.” She wagged her eyebrows then winked before she pushed up on her toes, and kissed me.

  “And what exactly does romance smell like?”

  “It’s the scent of the nighttime air, cool and crisp, that relaxes your nerves and makes you feel safe and comfortable. Like when you’re laying outside looking at the stars, you know? The grass fresh against your skin and the crickets chirping. I really like it.”

  “Wow!” I picked up the cologne bottle to examine it. “Maybe I should be more careful with this stuff.”

  She smacked my shoulder gently and reached to put on her shoes. “I’m glad to see you smile.”

  She gave me a peck on my cheek, and I wrapped her in a tight hug.

  “Thank you for being here.”

  Her head nodded against my chest and she laced her fingers with mine. Together, we left to face the crew waiting outside my trailer.

  “Good morning,” I announced in a deep, powerful tone. The troupe responded with a groggy greeting and I looked around at each of them. Heavy faces from the long, traumatic night met my gaze, while their shoulders slouched with loss and despair. Their auras were a sad mix of blues and purples that were soft and hazy, blending into each other as they all shared the same pain. Clearing my throat, I continued.

  “I know last night was a bit...traumatic for us all.” A murmur rustled through the crowd. “Early this morning, my father was pronounced brain-dead and the decision was made to end life support. He is gone, but our show is not. We will continue. It’s what he would have wanted.”

  “The show must go on,” Lottie declared with a sad smile, and I squeezed her hand. I could sense her pain in her deep blue aura that washed around her like a pool of tears.

  “So what? We just forget it ever happened and move on? We lost our leader, our boss, your father,” one of the trapeze women accused, wrapping a thin sweater around her petite frame.

  “We could…” someone began. I searched for who had said it.

  “Yes?” I urged them. A young boy, one of the snack attendants, stepped forward. I nodded, willing him to finish his thought.

  “I think we should hold a moment of silence at the beginning of our next show. You know, in honor of your father,” he said.

  Someone else added, “And what about the tiger?”

  “We will hold a moment of silence for them both. It’s a good idea, thank you.” I turned back to the group. “It was an accident, nothing more—”

  One of the male tightrope walkers stepped forward. “And how exactly does a tiger accidentally release itself from a locked cage?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. But—”

  “It seems strange that after what happened between you two that a tiger suddenly gets set loose and only goes after him.”

  Lottie took over. “We all know Jacob’s father had his demons, but he was still his dad. He was his family. You all know that better than anyone.”

  “And how do you know it wasn’t him?” the accuser persisted.

  “Because he was with me all night,” Lottie’s cheeks flamed as a wave of titters washed through the crowd, but she bravely pressed on “Look, accidents happen. It could have been my fault for all we know. I was distracted last night and maybe I didn’t push the lock in, or maybe a bar came loose on the cage. Hell, maybe Harry fricken Potter magicked it open with his fancy wand! I don’t know, weird shit happens all the time.”

  Sensing Lottie’s frustration, I stepped in with a heavy sigh. “Look, I know it doesn’t make sense. I can’t even fully wrap my head around it, but the one thing I do know is that my father would want us to keep the show running.”

  The trapeze woman started to cry and turned to the man standing next to her. Murmurs spread through the camp as the group’s collective aura shifted to an orange and yellow pulse of worry.

  “Everyone. Everyone!” I called over the clamor. “Please, trust me that I have your best interests at heart. I want us to be the best—to be the most spectacular show anyone has ever seen. But I can’t do it by myself. I need you. All of you.”

  Holding my breath, I looked at each one of them and saw their questioning faces and furrowed brows as they made their decision.

  “Okay,” the tightrope walker said with a curt nod. He looked at those around him and urged them to follow his lead. Slowly, everyone began to murmur their agreement until Lottie beamed and turned to me.

  “We’re with you,” she grinned.

  I let out a sigh of relief. “Let’s begin.”

  Together we came up with a plan to create the best show we could possibly imagine. Everyone contributed their ideas to modify and upgrade their acts and the show itself. We had a game plan—one that would make our circus the greatest show around.

  I felt the rush of energy in the air as their auras flickered with bright greens and yellows of excitement for what we had in store. Their powers reached out inviting my own to harness their eagerness—so I did.

  As if in slow motion, I watched as my inky black aura trailed through the people in front of me and began taking tiny pieces of their powers. Before, I had no idea how many of our members held special abilities, but now, it was apparent that almost all of them carried some sort of psychic awareness. With each inhale, I felt myself grow more powerful, as if I had taken a drug that finally woke me up inside. My nerves were sensitive and I felt their emotions and drank in their willingness to enlighten myself.

  I should have been scared of this ability and this type of power, but I wasn’t. I had never felt this kind
of urgency—this need—to take from someone else and yet, as I filled myself with the smallest pieces of their abilities, I found myself smiling—laughing even—and rejoicing in the new man I was becoming.

  IX

  We continued our set tour, traveling from city to city with me as the new Ringmaster. It was as if I had been doing it my whole life, it came so naturally to me.

  Eventually, I was able to give Lottie her ability back—mostly. We sat holding each other's hands as I attempted to pull it from the collection in my mind and release it back to her. But when I pulled it away, like ripping off a band-aid, it left a little residue behind. I still felt the animals’ emotions and could predict what they were thinking, but I could no longer control their actions like Lottie. She was thankful for getting her power back and I watched as she embraced the tiger who had once been so small but now stood with their heads against her chest.

  I sought out those with special abilities like myself and Lottie. I found them easily, as I sensed their power in their auras—fire dancers that could control flames, trapeze and highwire aerialists that didn’t need a net as they never fell, more clowns that could alter the emotions, psychics who could actually see the future and read palms, and more. Collecting these abilities for my circus became a hobby—they were mine for the taking.

  Our troupe became famous and with fame we developed a new name; Cirque des Volés as a reminder of what we had once been; stolen. Children begged their parents to take them because of our pull. We were the best, but it wasn’t enough.

  Soon, my ability wanted more. The hunger grew quickly with every show and I had to find ways to feed it.

  I took little bits of power from everyone around me. The more people I hired to the show, the less they noticed the drain. Eventually, all their power would be mine, leaving them dry and empty. Soon after they all ended up going insane—some even killing themselves from the constant probing in their minds. Watching them suffer and slowly lose themselves was sickening. Guilt built up inside me and I knew I needed to find a way to contain the hunger.

  We went through many acts before I learned to control how much I wanted to take. Like a vampire, I drained just enough to boost my energy—sometimes it was just a sip, others a little more. The power was intoxicating—a high I never wanted to come down from—paired with the invigorating energy of the circus itself, it was complete ecstasy.

  Our shows were magic. People threw their money at us for only a few hours’ escape into the world I had crafted. It was addicting—but it wasn’t enough for me.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” I announced from center stage and the crowd cheered with excitement. Their auras began dancing and twirling around themselves in hues of brilliant pinks and blues. “Welcome to The Monroe Circus of Wonder!” Everyone was on their feet, screaming with joy. I smiled as my aura reached out and latched itself onto energies that were bursting with light. I sipped a little, carefully watching the thinning hues to ensure I didn’t take too much, allowing their excitement to power me through the show.

  “Please, if we could.” I waited for them to quiet and settle again before continuing.

  My new jacket was stiff and tight against my skin—the fabric shimmered gentle black and silver and the ruby buttons gleamed in the circus lights. Feeling the weight of my father's satin hat on my brow, I began the show with the same introduction as always.

  “I would like to take a moment of silence for all those we have lost so recently. Not only were the members part of our troupe but they were family. As you know, my father, who was our original showman, he’s since passed away following the death of my mother and one of our beloved tigers, Tongo. So please, take a moment to remember them and honor them before we enjoy our magical night.”

  Everyone hushed, some bowing their heads while others sat in a respectable silence, shushing children who didn’t understand the sudden quiet. The large screen that dropped down the back of the stage filled with photos of my father, my mother, and the tiger we had lost.

  “Thank you.” I smiled at the audience, relishing the power of their emotions. “Although they are gone from us, they will forever be in our hearts. But now, as my father would insist, the show must go on!” I beamed and spread my arms yelling, “Let us begin!”

  Music screamed above us as the deep bass throbbed through the speakers and the trapeze artists flew through the air like tropical birds. They tumbled through the sky, barely being caught by their partners while others fell from the top of the tent halting inches from the floor as the almost invisible fabric held them. Sequin outfits sparkled with the twirling lights shining a rainbow of colors around the tent and audience. Their smiling faces glowed against the fear the crowd held for them.

  Tightrope walkers balanced on wires that bent below their weight. Stepping lightly, they moved one foot after the other while juggling different items. The audience gasped as one lost their step and almost tumbled, realizing there was no net. Little did they know the performers could never fall as their abilities provided them perfect balance and control—as long as I didn’t take their entire power. It was all part of the act.

  As they disappeared into a haze of fog, dropping down to the ground and vanishing, the fire dancers emerged, tossing flames across the stage, incinerating the ropes and ribbons the aerial artists had just held on to. Heat washed over the crowd, forcing them down into their seats. The shiny black unitards glistened against the red and orange flames that seemed to never touch their skin or burn them—and that was exactly what their ability allowed them to do. After eating the fire, letting it lash out at certain members in the audience, and tumbling through flaming rings, they finished their act with a blast of fireballs raining down from the sky.

  The crowd screamed and covered their heads, but before the flames reached their skin, they morphed into cool pieces of confetti that kissed them gently as they fell. Theo, the magician, stood center stage, hypnotizing the audience into seeing whatever he wanted. Cards appeared and disappeared in certain hands, grew to unimaginable sizes, and scurried about like mice in the ring. Children squealed as cards shifted into elephants, cats, dogs, and even a dragon that flew about the tent.

  Theo pulled all kinds of things out of his hat. Everything from rabbits to snakes and even a dinosaur. They all ripped through the surface of the top hat and ran around before disappearing in a loud pop of smoke.

  Our show was pure magic. There was no denying it.

  After Lottie and the remaining acts performed, everyone cheered, begging for an encore, in hopes of just one more moment of excitement to satisfy the adrenaline pumping through their veins.

  As I took the stage for the final farewell, I saw the auras waving alongside everyone. Reaching out, I allowed my ability to freely feed, taking all of their emotions to satisfy my hunger.

  “Thank you, everyone, for attending tonight,” I called in my loudest showman voice. “We hope you enjoyed the show and we will be back!” I clapped my hands and the stage lit with dancing lights and loud music as the troupe reemerged for their final bow then disappeared into the fog that drifted over and wrapped around the stage.

  Since then, we have the country, stopping through countless towns to dazzle the masses while I fill my growing needs. To this day, my power remains hungry—starving for more psychic abilities. I’ve learned that seeping energy from an aura only soothes the hunger pains but never satisfies it completely. It wants more. It wants to feast. I have struggled to find enough energy to ease the pain completely. Lottie has caught on to my struggle and worries that someday the ability will take total control of my humanity—that I will lose myself to its needs.

  Most days I worry as well.

  It wasn’t until I accidentally took too much too quickly, allowing my ability to take what it wanted, that I realized how right Lottie had been.

  The hunger had been gnawing at me all day, but I continued to shush it. When it had had enough of my commands, it forced its way out, latching onto the nearest aura
and consuming it in one swift gulp.

  Hungry.

  It spoke to me for the first time then, and I stood in shock as it dove into the girl’s mind, quickly devouring it before sighing with relief and trickling back to me.

  I watched the trapeze artist convulse on the ground, and unable to save her, I finally realized that my power had a will of its own and I was pulling me into its deadly trap.

  There was no way to control it anymore. I had let loose a monster.

  “You must find a powerful ability. One greater than all our own put together. One that could sustain your hunger for a very long time,” our psychic, Madam Svetlana, said in her withered old voice. I came to her for help, wanting to know if she could see my future downfall and maybe, just maybe, help me save myself and my circus.

  “How am I supposed to do that?” I demanded, feeling defeated.

  “There is one, a girl. She is young, but her power is strong, stronger than I ever seen before.”

  I leaned forward on the table, watching as she searched her crystal ball for the answer. “How do I find her?”

  “You will sense her when the time is right. Her ability cannot hide forever. Your power will seek her out. Let it lead you to her. She could fill you for eternity.” She looked up over the glowing orb filled with shifting smoke and grinned. “She has the ability to see the past, present, and future, but we will make sure she does not see us coming.”

  “What?” I asked, confused. If the girl has visions, surely she would know when we were coming and our end game.

  “She does not know of her power. It is hidden away—weak and starving as it waits for her to release it. Once the ability begins to fight, that will be the time for you to push her. Once regained, her psychic power will be too much for her. She may even give it to you willingly to ease herself of the pain.”