Mutatus

by Ally Vance

  Mutatus

  Ally Vance

  Contents

  IGNORANCE IS BLISS

  PLAYLIST

  Prologue

  1. Maia

  2. Maia

  3. Maia

  4. Darryn

  5. Maia

  6. Camden

  7. Maia

  8. Camden

  9. Camden

  10. Maia

  11. Darryn

  12. Camden

  13. Maia

  14. Darryn

  15. Maia

  16. Darryn

  17. Maia

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Books By Ally Vance

  Books By Ally Michelle

  Copyright © 2020 Ally Vance

  Editor: Sheena Taylor

  Cover design by Pink Elephant Designs

  Cover illustration by Burning Youth

  Formatting by Fancy Fiction Formats

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without written permission from the author, except for the brief use of quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is completely coincidental.

  IGNORANCE IS BLISS

  Playing my heartstrings in a vicious melody

  My screams are the lyrics to this torturous song

  Jagged smiles, in ripped, dead mouths

  And soundless applause to my pain

  From an audience of corpses

  Knives twisted in a thousand veins

  Crimson blood wine to toast to my death

  Rotting cadavers to feast upon tonight

  Razor-edged glasses to bleed upon

  This blood is my drug

  My lifeline in the mindless games

  Gorge upon these gormless mortals

  Left frozen in fear at my monstrosity

  Ignorance is bliss….

  That was my humanity

  That was my innocence

  Ignorance is bliss….

  It’s so easy to lose your grip

  On this rope so high above

  As the blood begins to drip

  We sail through the sky,

  Like the wings of a dove.

  PLAYLIST

  Fall Out Boy - Phoenix

  Linkin Park - Somewhere I Belong

  Silverstein - Massachusetts

  My Chemical Romance - How I Disappear

  Anthrax - Blood Eagle Wings

  Prologue

  Maia

  This is the story of my life, and how I came to be an attraction in the Carnaval des Ténèbres.

  I may have been born a freak, but I wasn’t always the aberration I am today. Monsters are made, and even now, I struggle to comprehend why my master constructed me this way. The pain I endure each and every day is incomprehensible. However, I’ve been told there’s no way to undo the despicable and agonizing procedure I went through to become this…this thing.

  When I finally managed to escape from the true monster in my story, I joined a traveling troupe of freaks where I knew I’d fit in, and I do. My life’s not easy, but I have friends here; people who understand the ridicule I suffer.

  They say running never solves anything, and that your past will alway catch up to you. Well, this is my story, and it proves how right those words can be…

  One

  Maia

  I get ready to begin my act. The Human Fairy is the stage name I’m billed as. It was chosen for me by Ezra Black, the intimidating leader of the Carnaval des Ténèbres and our resident Devil. The Top we’re performing in tonight is packed. We’ve sold out of tickets. Everyone wants to see the strange and unusual. They’re fascinated by the oddities of nature, and we’re the main attraction of the evening.

  My wavy blonde hair, which is cut to just above my shoulder, has been tightly curled and brushes against my ears and painted cheeks. The delicate Venetian mask I don for my performance pairs beautifully with the gold, brown, and red tones of the backless halter dress I’m wearing. The hair, the dress, and the mask do nothing to obscure the nature of my condition; they can’t hide the true freak of nature I was elevated to by my creator, Dr. Camden Waugh. But at least I’m here by choice, and I’m appreciated by the people surrounding me for being who and what I am. They took me in, accepted me, and did so without degrading me further.

  When I first arrived at the Carnaval, I was broken and ashamed of my body. For several months, I was only comfortable with Darryn, one of the stage hands and also our troupe doctor, and Ezra seeing me. It was a long time before I gained the courage to earn my keep as a member of the troupe. Eventually, I took to the stage, and for the last seven years, I’ve been entertaining audiences, dressed as a macabre, living fairy, dancing and fluttering with both my feet firmly planted on the floor. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the intense stares and gasps that follow my entrance onto the stage; however, in the last few months, something has changed in me. I have found a renewed confidence, and I’ve been working with Darryn to develop a brand new routine. Dr. Waugh took everything from me when he mutilated my body, but now I am taking back control because tonight, for the first time in public, I’m going to fly.

  While I wait my turn, I watch as Alina, our seductive Circassian beauty, finishes her act. She’s a vividly stunning woman with a ravishing mane of fiery hair and an elegant allure. Alina is everything I wish I could be but never will. I feel intimidated by her when I’m the one to follow her in the line-up, but she’s never treated me as anything less than an equal. On the days when my wings hurt and their heaviness drags me down, our differences sting the most. That’s okay, though, because in every way that matters we’re the same. We’re both human, both performers, both freaks, and both members of the same strange family.

  I take a deep breath as Darryn fits the custom-made harness tightly around my waist, transforming me from freak to performer. He buckles the straps into place while being careful not to touch my exposed back, and I throw him a nervous and grateful smile.

  The music begins; a soft melodic track calms my racing heart, and losing myself within the notes, I allow it to carry me onto the stage. I’m lifted off the floor by Darryn, who's manning the ropes attached to my harness. I spread out my arms, and closing my eyes behind the mask, I begin to twirl and dance in the air, grateful for the harsh lights and the things on my back that draw attention away from my tears. My last thought before I let my mind wander is that The Human Fairy is the perfect name for me.

  I may be little by nature, but that insane man, who dared to call himself a doctor, is the only reason I’m now soaring through the air. I’m disfigured because that sick bastard decided I should fulfill his every fantasy. He ripped my body open and defiled what made me human. He created the one and the only fairy in existence. I’m barely twenty-seven, and I’ve been living with this deformity for close to eleven years, maybe a little more. Sometimes I feel like an eternity has passed since then, and for both my exhausted body and mind, I believe in some ways it has.

  It breaks my heart to look at what he’s done to me out of his twisted and misguided love. I don’t allow any mirrors on display in my private space, because I can’t bear to see myself. The only time I ever gaze upon myself is when I’m checking my appearance before I perform. If it wasn’t for the kindness of these people who, like me, aren’t the picture of natural beauty, I’m not sure what would have become of me. They keep me from falling into the madness that lurks ever present like a fog in my brain, wrapping smo
ky tendrils around my mind.

  As I perform, a familiar dull ache shoots across my shoulders, slowly flaring up until it becomes a fiery burn. My muscles strain, and the taut skin stretched until it’s paper thin over my back feels as though it’s splitting. But I refuse to falter. I won't let my condition conquer me as thoroughly as Dr. Waugh did when he brutalized my body and forced me to live in such torment.

  By the time the song reaches the last few notes, I feel as though I’m being torn in two. I wouldn’t be surprised if my back is bleeding from the pressure that’s been exerted on it. This is the first time, since I escaped Dr. Waugh, I’ve attempted to move with the grace and elegance I spent years perfecting under his tutelage.

  When I first ran away from him, I tried to get my body fixed, but no doctor was willing or brave enough to even consider such a thing. The extremes that Dr. Waugh went to when he fitted his twisted creations to my small frame made it impossible. I’ve had to learn to live with what I've been given, but I’ll never learn to love my wings.

  I was his pet, his little fairy, and I loathed every moment he’d have me dress up and perform for him. Sometimes it was innocent, and other times he’d enact his cruelest, and most perverse fantasies on my tiny body. I don’t know if it was my childlike appearance and petite build that appealed to him, or if the sicko just had a thing about fairies. I never asked, and to be perfectly honest, I didn’t want to know.

  Even though I endured, fought back, escaped his prison-like home, and survived, I haven’t really lived in a long time. I’m still exactly what he made me, but now I’m up here on the stage, I’m playing this role for me. I’m finally in control of my own fate.

  When I first approached Ezra about flying, he wanted to make absolutely certain I felt ready. The truthful answer was no, but I needed to push past the limits I’d set. I begged him for the chance to prove myself, and he relented. My body is strained to the point of breaking, and I know I’ll hardly be able to move tomorrow, but I wanted to do this…I wanted to start reclaiming myself and take ownership of the body I’ve been given but never asked for.

  Darryn slowly lowers me down to the floor, and fully displaying the monstrosities attached to my small form, I bow to an awe-filled and horrified crowd. The gasps and screams bring a haunted smile to my face as a self-pitying tear slips free. I rise to my full height of three feet and three inches, and exit the stage. I need to get out of this harness and check how bad the damage is.

  I brush past Drake who is about to step out to begin his shared act with Moe. I flash a smile at him, trying to hide the pain I’m in. I don’t like to appear weak in front of the others. I avoid eye contact with Moe; he always makes me nervous. The saying, ‘I have eyes in the back of my head’ is all too literal with these two, and while I like Drake, I generally try to avoid Moe. He can be cruel with his words when he wants to be, and I don’t like how he treats Drake, or the way he looks at me. Moe’s perceptive and sees a lot more than I’d like him to. I prefer it when Drake is wearing his usual beanie so Moe is hidden.

  “You were incredible tonight, Maia,” Darryn quietly congratulates me, and I flash him a tired smile.

  “Thanks, Darryn. Please can you hurry and get this contraption off me? It’s getting really uncomfortable,” I ask while gesturing at the bindings still wrapped around my body.

  My voice is tense and strained from hiding the true extent of the pain I’m in.

  “Sure,” he says, his gentle and calm manner soothing against the raging onslaught of memories.

  I stand silently, lifting my arms and doing my best to make taking off the harness as swift and easy as possible. When it’s finally removed, I heave a sigh of relief at the freedom and do my best to shield Darryn from my suffering.

  “You’re bleeding,” he observes, and I close my eyes.

  “Damn, I was hoping it wouldn’t be that bad,” I mutter to myself.

  Turning, I give him a wide, bright smile, “Thanks again, Darryn. I better go get cleaned up and rewrap these.”

  “Maia, wait!” he calls after me as I hurry away from him.

  I wave, and hope he doesn’t notice my grimace when the simple gesture pulls at my back. Judging by the way his expression transforms into a frown, though, he noticed. Sighing, I carry on moving through the maze of trailers until I locate mine. Home sweet home.

  Two

  Maia

  I wake up feeling as though I’ve been ripped in two, and I curse myself for not allowing Darryn to patch me up and help me reapply the support straps for my wings. If Needles hadn’t been due to perform with Crispin, I probably would have gone to her in spite of the fact she would have scolded me in her silent but equally effective way. I stretch as much as my body will allow, groaning at the stiffness and ache spreading through me. No doubt I’ve lain awkwardly on my wings in the night.

  Painfully and slowly, I get out of bed and shuffle through my little trailer to the bathroom. When I’m already dealing with limited mobility, twisting awkwardly in the tight space isn’t ideal, but I manage to catch a fleeting glimpse of the lower seam of skin between my back and the wings. It looks raw and angry with dried blood crusted on the surface. Fuck, it’s worse than I thought. I’m going to need Darryn to take a closer look. I don’t like showing how weak and vulnerable I am, not even to him, but as he has medical training, he’s the best person to help me. Hopefully, he can get me cleaned and stitched up quickly, so I can carry on with the new normal I’ve grown to endure.

  I sit quietly in Darryn’s trailer while he stitches the wounds, and I focus on breathing through the pain. I don’t ask for any local anesthetic to numb the area he’s suturing, because the discomfort keeps the hatred alive within me, and I need that emotion like I need air. I breathe in the hate and anger, and I continue to live, even when I often feel like giving up. Darryn runs me through aftercare while forcing me to listen to yet another scolding about not taking care of myself.

  “Maia, people aren’t supposed to have wings. It’s a unique oddity even for the folk here to deal with. You need to treat them with care and look after yourself. I know you hate them, but you still need to think about the damage they could cause you if you don’t manage them correctly. As it is, you were lucky to survive the procedure that put them there in the first place,” Darryn remarks, his tone serious as he levels me with a hard stare.

  “I don’t feel lucky. I’ve never felt lucky being forced to bear their weight on my back and shoulders. It’s unnatural, and sometimes, I wish I’d died during that procedure. Are you certain there’s no way to reverse what’s been done to me?” I plead, my voice breaking as I stare back at him.

  This isn’t the first time I’ve appealed to him about this, and he’s not the only doctor to tell me no, but I still can’t help asking. I’m tired…so very tired of my existence as a freak. I miss being human instead of this monstrosity. When I first insisted on performing, I was hoping to overcome this self-loathing, but I perpetually wear it as I wear the wings upon my form.

  “I can’t, and you know that. I won’t risk killing you in the process. I’m not certain the doctor who created them could undo his work,” Darryn soothes apologetically.

  The small bubble of hope bursts, and I sigh dejectedly.

  “I know. Well, I suppose I should be grateful to him for designing them so I can move independently, rather than having to be held up by strings like a marionette,” I scoff sarcastically, turning my head to hide the sheen of tears filming my eyes.

  “Maia, listen to me,” Darryn urges, and I reluctantly face him, waiting silently for him to continue. “You’re alive, and you’re no longer there with him. Sure, you may not be perfect, but you tell me who the fuck around here is. Hate what you have if you must, but you need to take care of your body. Your home is here in a sea of abnormality, and maybe, one day, you’ll find peace. You’ll experience what the rest of us felt when we found ourselves on the top step of Ezra Black’s trailer after a long search for acceptance,” he enco
urages.

  “Thank you, Darryn. I’d best be going now,” I tell him politely, excusing myself.

  I don’t want him to see how much his words have impacted on me. I need to be alone: to think, to cry, to wallow, and to finally pull myself together so I can get back out there on stage again tonight. It hurts, but I refuse to let anyone see how far I’ve fallen.

  Early afternoon, I head out to find Needles. I want something extra special to wear tonight, and I need her expertise for that. I have a rather particular requirement for tailored clothing, and I’m terrible at sewing. But she has a magic touch and doesn’t seem to mind. I’ve occasionally spotted her smiling as she works. Needles can read me very well, even when I don’t say a word.

  When I first arrived here, I was wearing a thin, cotton halter-neck top in the middle of winter, and I was completely frozen through. I didn’t know who she was, but I noticed a woman’s eyes following me and Darryn as he guided me to one of the vacant trailers. Within a few hours of arriving and having my back treated by Darryn for the injuries sustained during my journey, there was a knock on my trailer door. The same strange woman breezed in like a warm breath of fresh air, deposited a small pile of clothes on an empty chair, exchanged a silent nod with Darryn, and left without saying a word. That was my introduction to Needles.