Funhouse

by Aurelia T. Evans

  They passed the contortionist, whose man knelt at her feet. He wore sweats instead of red leather, but apparently the pet thing wasn’t just for the benefit of Arcanium’s guests. The fire-eater was half covered in burn scars that extended into his mouth and over his scalp. Where he hadn’t been burned, he was amazingly smooth, also athletic in build. He lowered his eyes from her and continued to eat in silence when the contortionist tapped on his collar. The contortionist grinned in greeting.

  “Where exactly do I fit in?” Neve said. “I’m not an oddity, and I wouldn’t know how to perform if I tried. I feel punished, but I’m not, am I?”

  “No, you’re not.” Kitty motioned for a black-clad crew member to serve Neve.

  Neve smiled at the crew behind the scrambled eggs table, but they didn’t smile back.

  “Don’t mind the staff,” Kitty said. “I’m all for treating support well, but the golems are soulless.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not. They’re worker ants for Arcanium. Don’t throw darts at them or anything, but they are literally here to serve. You don’t have to be polite, because they don’t have feelings. They’re a little more animated when the circus is open, but otherwise Bell doesn’t have them expend the energy.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m really not. Coffee?”

  “I’m a scientist. Coffee is never a question.”

  Kitty poured her a cup. Neve added the cream and sugar herself then chose an English muffin and jam from the rest of the buffet and followed Kitty.

  Kitty led Neve away from the folding picnic table where Lady Sasha sat, snakeless, at one end and Lord Mikhail at the other, at a diagonal to maximize the distance between them at the same table. Lennon, Ciarán and Moss sat at the table next to them. All three had black eyes Neve hadn’t seen during the welcoming party, black all the way to the edges. Lennon gave her a salute.

  Kitty sat her at the other side of the table from Maya, who was eating alone and reading a paperback thriller with solitary determination Neve understood and respected. Across from her, the Human Spider ate her own English muffin and fruit, also reading, also determinedly solitary, and a bit ungainly with all her limbs attempting to fit at the picnic table.

  They weren’t ignoring each other. If they had been, they’d be sitting like Lady Sasha and Lord Mikhail. But their being alone together seemed somehow choreographed. It reminded Neve of when she and Joseph had sat at the same dinner table and eaten in silence in the midst of mutual irritation but also unspoken understanding and respect, neither of them relocating to the living room couch to eat truly alone.

  Kitty slid onto the bench across from Neve. “As far as your place in Arcanium goes, you’re not voluntary, so you can’t cross the threshold the way some of us can. But within the borders of Arcanium, you’re given certain freedoms, benefits, that the prisoners can’t claim. Most of the prisoners sleep in a semi-trailer, a few in older trailers. Most of the involuntaries who aren’t being punished live much like you do—reasonable privacy, space and a less painful existence, with an ability to take pleasure from life and to exorcise the desire that the sex demons create. The Rotting Man may have the same sexual frustration as you on the days he still has his dick, but do you think any of us have touched it?”

  Neve snorted coffee through her nose, partially spraying the table. She coughed until she was sure she wouldn’t choke.

  “For the longest time,” Kitty continued, as though Neve hadn’t done anything undignified, “no one would let Misha, our sword swallower, near them because he had a tendency to spit blood and first came into Arcanium because he’d been an asshole. He’s been forgiven his trespasses since, so he’s on a level with involuntaries like you—like the Spider, like Christina, like Seth and Lars, like the twins, Joanne and Jane. Don’t worry about which is which right now. They’re mirror twins, so you’d have to look at scars for differences, and they wear their names around their necks.”

  Kitty glanced over at a table that appeared filled with misfit toys who just ate their food and didn’t look at anything but their plate. “Most of the prisoners didn’t used to eat with us, at least after the last influx, but now they do. They’ll keep to themselves.”

  Neve had no particular inclination to hang around people with what appeared to be sucking chest wounds and limbs in sore need of amputation. A man who looked like a hybrid between a human and a Sphynx sat across from a woman who drank her protein shake through a straw, because that’s all she could fit past the thick vine growing out of her mouth.

  “If any of them bother you, kick them in the balls, hit them over the head with something and call for Bell. If he doesn’t come himself, he’ll send someone on his behalf. Or he’ll help you kick their ass yourself.”

  Kitty stabbed a piece of sausage with more vehemence than a dead pig deserved. “They’ll all be forgiven eventually, as soon as they acknowledge what they’ve done and atone—not for their sake, but for the sake of those they victimized. Colm, Riley, Melanie and John… They’re on their way. As long as the prisoners serve Arcanium and its people, they work toward their redemption. Of course, they’ve been known to backslide.”

  She clenched her teeth after swallowing, but only for a moment.

  Neve thought about how Kitty had entered Arcanium already the Bearded Lady, probably a victim many times over without having to step foot in a demon’s lair. About how she was a demon’s lover by choice, one she freely called evil. About how she’d said people were imprisoned in Arcanium for attacking freaks for being freaks—although what else people expected from a freak-show circus was anyone’s guess.

  A Human Spider with multiple limbs, a contortionist able to knot herself into ungodly positions, a fire-eater with burn scars… None of those things were quite like being a hairy, bearded woman—not being made into one, but actually being one. And she’d never wished for that to be taken away. Neve was sure there were many contributing factors to why Kitty was still Kitty, but it couldn’t have been easy, even in a freak show, to have her natural oddity compared to the oddities forced upon people.

  Even Neve had been relieved Bell had made her new freakishness less visible. If Bell could make a tightrope walker of Maya and aerialists of Seth and Lars on the basis of nothing more than bringing them into Arcanium, Neve could visualize quite well all that Bell could have done to her in addition to putting her on the opposite side of the sexual sensitivity spectrum.

  After all, nothing apparently stopped the Rotting Man from wanting sex.

  “After you eat, come by my oddity tent,” Kitty added. “I live there full-time when we’re not traveling. We can talk hair and makeup. I usually keep costumes in my tent, but Bell told me you have some of them in your wardrobe, so go ahead and bring those with you. You might want to freshen up a bit before you come over.” Hints of amusement returned, tugging on the corners of Kitty’s eyes and moustache. “Open a window or something.”

  Neve resisted the impulse to kick Kitty in the shins. “Where’s Bell?”

  “Not here. He’s been scarcer the last few days.”

  Neve glanced at Maya then back at Kitty. Kitty nodded as she brought her coffee up to drink.

  So much to ask, but it would be considered gossip and not a bit sweet-spirited. Neve held her tongue on that, too.

  She also determinedly didn’t look in Lord Mikhail’s direction. She felt him, the way a person feels hearth fire against their backs. She’d prefer pretending he didn’t exist, but she couldn’t deny fire, and there was no air conditioning backstage to save her. If she were wearing anything decent under the robe, she’d shed it, because it was suddenly stifling, but she didn’t even have a pair of panties as a barrier.

  The scenario that kept playing in her head now was Mikhail striding up to her, throwing her onto the picnic table, parting the robe into a makeshift blanket and rutting furiously with her for everyone to see—like animals who didn’t care about each other’s pleasure, only about
the satiation of their own. But Neve knew she’d feel all the pleasure, any pleasure that could be had, because that was Bell’s design.

  A girl up for anything, ready for anything, anytime… That’s what men wanted from her, her husband no exception, and that’s what she was. The natural redhead with big tits and an ass, with the voice of a submissive, an experimental nature and a body so full of lust she would exhaust a sailor who’d been at sea a whole year. At the foundation, it seemed all too clear what Bell wanted her in Arcanium for, and none of those reasons involved her doctorate.

  She wanted so badly to forget Lord Mikhail was there, but she couldn’t. And somehow she could tell that part of the reason she couldn’t stop thinking about him, couldn’t stop yearning for him to touch her, couldn’t stop imagining the very specific things she wanted him to do to her, was because he couldn’t ignore her either. He called to her without saying a word, whether he meant to or not.

  A slam made everyone on her side of the room jump and turn toward the sex demons’ table.

  Lady Sasha pressed her hands against her head, her fingernails curled into her scalp as though she were holding her brains in. Lord Mikhail had struck the table as he stood, glowering first at Lady Sasha then at Neve.

  Neve experienced his anger the way she did his lust, because the former was clearly spiked with the latter. He was wearing jeans instead of leather pants, but they served the same purpose in holding his cock down, semi-tamed without room to swell, grow, to stretch out for what it wanted. Instead, he stalked away, bent over like a hulking monster rather than a man.

  “Lady Sasha’s been giving him as much of a cold shoulder as Maya’s giving Bell,” Kitty said softly.

  “I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.”

  Kitty blinked. “You didn’t cause this, sweetie. Don’t even think that. The pieces were all there. What Bell did to you was just the—”

  “Catalyst,” Neve mused, suddenly shivering.

  “Yes. Lord Mikhail and Lady Sasha’s relationship has been tempestuous from the beginning, as has Bell and Maya’s.” Kitty stroked her beard in contemplation. “But if the incubus and succubus continue not speaking with each other, Arcanium’s going to get a lot more…interesting.”

  * * * *

  Neve tried not to squirm from how good it felt for Kitty to brush her hair. Even when she’d been asexual, someone else brushing her hair had felt amazing. At least now she was clothed, albeit in lingerie. She didn’t know whether she was allowed to ask for yoga pants and T-shirts here if they hadn’t already been provided, and if Bell was pissed off, now was probably not the time to inquire.

  “What did you mean when you said Arcanium’s going to get more interesting?” Neve asked.

  “Every time I mention Lord Mikhail or just say the word ‘incubus’, you tense up. Are you sure you want me to answer that?”

  “Why are they called Lord Mikhail and Lady Sasha? I thought they were stage names at first, but all of you keep using it.”

  “That’s what they are. Yes, we started out using their titles to fit in more with the Renaissance and medieval fairs, but where they were born, they were nobility.”

  “And how exactly do incubi and succubi become noble?”

  “You’ll have to ask them, sweetie. We don’t talk much. It’s not personal. They start emanating, we start lusting and it turns into a self-perpetuating lust bubble that’s a bitch to pop when we can’t have sex with them and they can’t have sex with us.”

  “But I can.” Not quite a whisper, and not for dramatic emphasis—a vocalization of thoughts that hadn’t come to a particular conclusion, or at least one that Neve liked.

  “But you won’t,” Kitty replied, blessedly neutral. “As for why things might get interesting, you have to understand a few things about our sex demons. They aren’t just Arcanium’s protectors. If all Bell wanted was muscle, there are far better monsters. While having sex demons tends to invite trouble in some areas, it creates the atmosphere Bell wants—like alcohol or ecstasy during a party, I guess.” Kitty arranged Neve’s wet hair over her shoulders. “Your hair color is quite striking without my help. I’ll bet it was carrot red when you were younger. Do you want to leave it the way it is or deepen the red? I’m excited to have another ginger in the circus, but really, we can do anything you like. Maintenance is a lot easier in here than on the outside.”

  “I’d rather keep it the way it is, thank you.” Neve valued her natural color, especially after reading an article that suggested red hair was slowly going extinct. The world could stand a few anomalies for a little while longer.

  “Okay. I asked because it affects the hue of your makeup.”

  “You know what Bell wants me to do?”

  Kitty nodded then pulled out the hair dryer. “We discussed it before you came here. The Spider was originally assigned to the haunted funhouse, and he wants you to take her old spot. It’ll be dark, atmospheric, and I wanted to make sure I had the right shade of green.”

  The hair dryer halted the conversation. Kitty was as skilled and efficient as any stylist, accustomed as she apparently was to extreme hair and makeup styles. She found the waves in Neve’s hair and drew them out with more drama. She trimmed here and there, dry styling, to add an edge without taking away the softness of Neve’s features.

  “The alluring atmosphere of Arcanium comes from sex demons’ frustrations. They abstain until a trespasser crosses their path while they patrol in the evenings, or unless Bell finally takes pity on them and lets them loose outside Arcanium. Incubi and succubi are irresistible by nature, but most feed every night or so. They don’t drive you insane because they don’t emanate nearly as much frustration. Bell has Mikhail and Sasha hold out as long as they can. Their frustration maintains the circus’ sexual tension, charges it and us. Then, during and after a feed here in Arcanium, it’s a bit like a sex bomb goes off. Good thing they only feed afterhours, or else we’d start having guest orgies instead of the odd couple here and there finding semi-private places.”

  “Bell legally drugs his customers with sex magic. Got it.” Neve was just trying to find where Bell drew the line, since he wallowed quite happily in gray areas. He needed a yes, the way the incubus had needed her to invite him in. Like the incubus, however, he had no problem at all rigging one.

  “Casinos and department stores pump oxygen into their buildings. Real estate agents bake cookies to make a house smell like home. Fried fair food makes you nostalgic, and winning chimes make you want to spend money at the midway. It’s really no different. The incubus and succubus try to keep it at a nudge rather than a push while the circus is open. That way customers aren’t climbing into Lord Mikhail and Lady Sasha’s tents and humping them like dogs. Afterhours, they don’t have to be so careful and controlled. But in the absence of trespassers or Bell’s permission to leave, they’ve always had each other. It’s significantly more effective than solo sex, though significantly less effective than feeding from a mortal. It takes the edge off for a short while, and it’s physical contact, something they hunger for as much as we do. Without that, who knows how taut that tension’s going to be? Or what happens when it snaps before they’re able to feed.”

  “What do you think will happen?”

  Kitty finished applying foundation and powdered Neve’s face. “You aren’t going to like my answer.”

  “It’s going to intensify, isn’t it?” Neve’s breakfast sloshed in a stomach that had just gone cold. “It’s going to get so much worse.”

  “You really do have lovely eyes. You picked all the good traits when they were handing them out, didn’t you? If you detect a note of envy, that’s because it’s there.”

  “I didn’t get everything,” Neve said quietly. “I suppose it’s a matter of opinion.”

  “And isn’t that just the truth Arcanium teaches us. But I do have my own opinions, my own childhood fantasies. I wanted to grow up to look like you.” Kitty tossed Neve’s styled hair back and forth then touch
ed her smooth, unhairy cheek. “Sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to put too much on you. There’s all kinds of beauty in Arcanium. You’re just a kind that goes straight through my heart like a knitting needle.”

  “Oh, I have an idea what people see when they look at me. They don’t get tired of letting me know, even though it’s none of my doing. I’m ambivalent about how I look, to be honest. Prouder of my academic accomplishments. But I didn’t get the ability to feel sexual pleasure, for one. I didn’t feel anything sexy about this place when I visited. Now I’m all the more aware of just how much I didn’t feel. I don’t have experience. I don’t have a filter, strategies, nothing. It’s excruciating now, and you think it’s going to get worse?”

  “Do you mind advice from another bicycle?” As Kitty bent to apply the eyeshadow, her long beard tickled Neve’s hands. “We all had to find a way to deal with it in here, no matter how reluctant some of us were.”

  “Were you reluctant?”

  “No. Mostly I was surprised by just how many men wanted to sleep with me. I can thank Lady Sasha for that. Without the push from a succubus, I’m not sure half of the men I’ve had sex with would have had the guts to ask. I’d had sex before Arcanium, don’t get me wrong, but the general opinion of the men I slept with was that they were doing me a favor, so they could get one off and feel superior and charitable about it. No, thanks. I’d rather be exotic, an unspoken wish or fantasy—even sometimes a fetish, to a point. You’d be surprised. Most people are.”

  “But the Ringmaster…” Neve didn’t know how to phrase the question, because she didn’t know the full nature of their relationship.

  “He’s my primary these days but far from my only.” Kitty painted a pale lip gloss over Neve’s lips, which was distracting, as was the fullness of Kitty’s more generous breasts over her corset, but Neve forced herself to focus on the words. “I prefer to seek other company outside the circus, although I’ll stay in now and then. Maya prefers the people within, although she’ll sometimes solicit guests. I’m sorry if that’s painful for me to mention.”