Contortion

by Aurelia T. Evans

  “Don’t talk to me about what I think. Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me. I don’t know what you got from her.”

  Now this was getting insulting.

  “You’re trespassing. You’re going to die if you don’t leave,” Valorie hissed. She strained her ears, listening for the clowns again.

  “You don’t get to talk to us either, you fucking slut,” Elian shouted. He brandished his branch as he advanced with all the rashness of a teenager in the throes of deep betrayal.

  Valorie felt for him. She really did. But she was going to knock him unconscious if he tried to hurt her with that poor amputated piece of tree.

  “You…you…you…” Janice tried to speak, but she shook her head and balled her hands into trembling fists—fists that could do serious harm, especially since Charles wouldn’t want to fight back. Couldn’t fight back. He’d never believed in using violence, especially not against women.

  The clown trills came closer.

  “You need to run!” Valorie shouted, abandoning stealth at this point.

  “There’s nowhere to run.”

  Valorie whirled around, stomach turning to ice.

  Lady Sasha leaned against Lord Mikhail, running her long, clawlike nails down his bare chest. The incubus’ and succubus’ gazes landed squarely on Janice and Charles.

  “He’s with me,” Valorie said quickly to Lady Sasha. Charles was closer to the succubus. And Elian was too young, although not by much. “Bell gave him to me.”

  All their years together meant Lady Sasha believed her, disappointment drawing her perfect dark eyebrows down slightly.

  She also believed Valorie because Valorie hadn’t taken ownership of the other two trespassers. She couldn’t lie, not to the demons who protected Arcanium. There’d be hell to pay if she did. Everyone had had a front-row seat to Caroline defying the clowns and what the Ringmaster did to a person foolish enough to keep doing it.

  There was no point in her trying. Janice and Elian couldn’t hope to escape, even if Janice gave a flying fuck what came out of Valorie’s mouth.

  Because here came the clowns down the back alley of Oddity Row.

  They were surrounded, and no Bell in sight.

  Chapter Eleven

  The clowns were the best in the circus at face painting. They’d mastered the terrifying, toothy illusion grins that extended from nose to throat. But that was because they needed face paint. They needed it to look normal. When Arcanium closed and trespassers made themselves a meal for the circus’ guard dogs, the clowns showed their true faces.

  Even most of the demons didn’t go near the clowns.

  Where a human’s eyes would be white, theirs were black as ink. Where a demon’s irises would also be black, theirs glowed bright yellow. Along the middle of their monster face paint, their faces split into a scarecrow grins that stretched from ear to ear—no lips, just the ripped seam of their mouths. Their tongues were long, thinner than human, and pointed. Behind their relatively normal faces when their mouths were closed were rows and rows of curved, conical, razorblade teeth.

  She’d mentioned the clowns to Charles, but perhaps that hadn’t prepared him for the crackling sound like thousands of breaking bones as the clowns revealed themselves, drooling over the elaborate art on their faces. They chittered their excitement at such a feast provided for them in the form of Elian—young meat, their favorite.

  “Janice, come here!” Charles waved frantically to his wife, caught between running toward her and staying away from the clowns as they stalked closer. Under different circumstances, it might have been amusing, watching him run forward then stumble back again.

  “If you think for one second I’ll do anything you tell me, you cheating bas—”

  “They’re going to kill your son, you stupid cow,” Valorie said, running toward the boy who wanted to murder her—or at least beat her into a coma.

  “Valorie!” Charles really must have been in shock, to be annoyed that she’d called his wife a name instead of helping her get Janice away.

  “And that man behind me is going to kill you,” Valorie said to Janice before returning her attention to Charles. “So unless you want to watch her cheat on you with an incubus, you’ll knock her out and carry her away like a goddamn caveman if that’s the only option you have left.”

  “I knew it!” Janice said, pointing at Valorie, still with the tunnel vision.

  “You don’t know a thing!” Valorie shouted back.

  Janice stopped crying in temporary surprise.

  “You need to leave now,” Valorie said. “Marriage counseling is still better than death. Go!”

  “You’re crazy,” Elian said from behind her. “Whatever trick you’re playing, it’s not going to work.”

  Valorie ducked the branch that Elian swung at her and leveled a kick at his stomach. “I don’t want to incapacitate you. I can’t drag you to the gates. Dude, look behind you, kid.”

  “I’m not gonna fall for that,” Elian snarled.

  The boy had focus, and he loved his mother. But damn, he was dense.

  Valorie had flexibility but not a lot of brute strength—certainly no natural defenses against demon clowns. The only reason they hadn’t outright attacked was because Valorie hadn’t stepped away, and they were visibly confused that she was interfering. They were used to Caroline being the idiot hero. Valorie had stayed out of their way all the years she’d been a part of the circus. Valorie knew the drill. So the fact that she wasn’t giving them room to eat was the only slim chance that Janice and Elian had, and it wasn’t going to last for much longer.

  “You want to protect your mama? You go over there right now and get her out of here,” Valorie said, pointing at Janice, who was now struggling with Charles.

  He was trying to get her to leave, and she slapped at his hands, yelling unintelligibly, the fire of domestic homicide getting brighter in her eyes the more Charles tried to calm her down. Valorie could sympathize, but her stomach sank with each second that Janice kept backing away toward the clowns, who fortunately weren’t in any hurry.

  “Your father is protected,” Valorie told Elian, “but you’re not supposed to be here.”

  “You don’t even get to point at her, you bitch,” Elian snarled.

  “Why are you doing this, Valorie?” Lady Sasha asked. She sounded genuinely curious, not upset.

  Janice jerked her head over to the succubus and blinked, as though this was the first time she realized it wasn’t just her family and Valorie here.

  “You know there’s no way they’re getting out. It’s too far, and we’re too fast,” Lady Sasha said. “You can’t save them, and the boy you fight would have your head. They’re so passionate when they’re young.”

  Lady Sasha patted Lord Mikhail’s shoulder, encouraging him forward.

  “They’re ours now,” Lady Sasha said.

  Valorie spun out of the way of Lord Mikhail’s approach with the footwork she’d gained as a dancer. She slung her arm around Elian’s neck and throttled him back, trying to pull him between the tents into Oddity Row.

  “Get your hands off my son!” Janice shouted after her.

  “Really?” Valorie muttered again. Then she shouted back like a fourth grader, “Come and make me!”

  Now! Valorie screamed in her head, because Lord Mikhail was getting closer, ramping up his magnetism to high. He didn’t have to hold back with trespassers who were promised to him. If Janice didn’t feel it yet, it was only because she was distracted by her son and her sense of betrayal. But if Lord Mikhail got any closer, his influence would be undeniable, irresistible. And if Charles fought the incubus, Lady Sasha might get involved anyway in the interest of protecting her companion.

  Elian stomped his booted foot on her bare one. Pain, bright and hot like a grenade blast, burst through her. She collapsed to her knees, releasing the boy.

  Fuck, I think he broke my toes.

  If this was any other circus than Arcanium, the injury would have
been devastating for months. As it was, it was just painful—so painful, her body locked up. Her mouth dropped open, but not enough of her brain worked for her to say anything.

  At first, she thought the glowing amber light was part of her pain.

  Then she realized it was fire. Flamethrower fire billowing at Elian and making him stagger back.

  Valorie raised her head from the ground.

  It looked like the whole top half of John’s body was on fire. He wore a mantle of his flames up his arms and over his shoulders. Even his head was ablaze.

  She’d never seen John this alight. He was normally very controlled with his fires, scared of losing his grip on the magic, and for good reason. His scars and scorched trailer were constant reminders of what would happen if he let go.

  Yet here he was, flaming from hand to hand and walking toward Elian.

  “Are you okay?” he rasped as he reached her.

  Valorie shook her head, still unable to speak, but she kept leaning her head toward Charles, Janice and Elian, desperately trying to tell John what she needed him to do. But she feared she was telling him to do something else.

  Please save them, she begged in her head as she gasped for breath against the shocking pain from her feet. She was a good twenty or thirty seconds from being able to talk.

  John suddenly ran at Elian, who shouted and fell back. He twitched like a crab on the dusty ground, his fear moving him faster than his limbs were capable of.

  But John ran past the boy and into the back alley of the Row. He spread his arms, sending his flames out to create a barrier between Janice and Charles and the demons on the other side that were trying to kill them. Then he cast a line of fire through the dirt to surround Elian in a circle of flames.

  The clowns were in Valorie’s line of sight. They reeled away from the fire, trilling in alarm and more confusion that yet another cast member was keeping them from their prey.

  Lord Mikhail continued after Janice, his dark brown hair slicked back tight in a ponytail at the base of his neck. He cocked his head at John, square jaw tight but not showing anger. Lord Mikhail wasn’t a fighter, in spite of his massive stature and musculature. All of that was mostly for show, although he could fight if he needed to. He was an incubus—the only thing he really needed was his magic and his touch against most, a single fist against the rest. He wasn’t fazed by John the way the clowns were.

  Valorie’s stomach sank to her knees underneath her.

  “Do you think fire can stop me, brother?” Lord Mikhail asked. He stretched his hand out to clasp John’s shoulder.

  He wasn’t allowed to touch the cast, even the ones unaffected by his magic, and unlike Lady Sasha, he’d been punished several times before for doing exactly that. However, John wasn’t supposed to be protecting free game either. The woman was marked for his use by her trespass. There wasn’t a single demon who didn’t take their chances when given. The Ringmaster rejoiced at every back he could shred. The clowns devoured whatever they caught, although they preferred more tender meat. And when Lady Sasha and Lord Mikhail didn’t have to leave the circus to feast upon their preferred prey, it made their evenings much easier.

  The fire mantle licked through and over Lord Mikhail’s fingers, but it didn’t burn.

  “I was forged from fire, fire-eater,” Lord Mikhail said. He was twice his John’s size. It required little effort for him to grab and jerk John away. “You cannot keep me from what is mine. Protect your woman and leave the trespassers to us.”

  “No!” Charles shouted as Janice stepped out from behind him. The fury was gone from her eyes, the fire turned to the glitter of arousal. “Janice, what are you doing?”

  “Come to me, dear,” Lord Mikhail said, beckoning to her. “If your husband interferes, Lady Sasha will take care of him. He won’t touch you again. You won’t have to think of any touch but mine.”

  “Lord Mikhail, please,” Valorie called, finally getting control of her body enough to limp to her feet. She couldn’t put her weight on her toes, not without another flare of pain. Almost definitely broken. “They’re not here to hurt the circus. They were here because Charles was, on my invitation.”

  “They threatened you,” Lord Mikhail replied, gathering Janice against his chiseled, muscular body. Janice looked as though she’d been happily hit with a thousand bricks. “If they had come in peace, perhaps Bell would have arranged for their swift exit. But you are injured, and violence was their intent. I have my own violent intent that you will find much more pleasurable, my beautiful dark rose.” He caressed Janice’s tear-streaked face. “New tears will you shed. Tears of joy before your welcome end.”

  “Valorie!” Charles cried.

  “Then let’s wait for Bell,” Valorie said. “Let’s wait for him to get here. He was supposed to be here. He needed an answer from me, one that might change the present circumstances. An answer to a wish.”

  Both Lord Mikhail and the clowns hesitated. Valorie had never been sure how much English the clowns understood. They kept their own company, and their mouths and throats weren’t configured for speech. But apparently they understood the importance of the word ‘wish’.

  “Then why isn’t he here, cherie?” Lady Sasha asked. “Hey, boy, come to me now. If the clowns can’t figure out how to get to you, I’ll provide a distraction until they get their heads together.”

  Why wasn’t he here? Was this his grand solution—if Valorie hadn’t chosen to ride the wish into the past, give Charles no one left but his daughter and Valorie to start a new life in the present?

  What if Bell hadn’t given her a choice to leave? What if this was his way of kicking her out? One more disgruntled employee taken care of.

  Elian gaped at Lady Sasha, who wore her leather bikini and nothing more in spite of the chill in the early winter night. He was sixteen years old. He didn’t have a chance against a woman who represented the fantasy of so many men. He staggered toward her like a zombie, his mouth parted, as infatuated as his mother was with the incubus.

  Valorie noticed he wasn’t getting murderous with his mother drooling over an incredibly attractive man who wasn’t his father. Sure, there was magic involved, but Valorie still thought there was a teensy bit of double standard in that.

  Even so, Valorie limped toward the boy to grab him away from Lady Sasha’s clutches. Elian whipped around and flung a punch at Valorie that connected with her shoulder. He didn’t stick around to do any more damage, though. Any murderous inclinations had been subsumed by his libido.

  Valorie didn’t fall. He couldn’t knock her off-balance, even with broken toes. In this case, the magic that kept her upright was a blessing, but it didn’t mean she recovered from his blow fast enough.

  John threw a large fireball at Lady Sasha’s feet. Smart guy. If Lord Mikhail wasn’t affected by fire, Lady Sasha wouldn’t be either. But he could make the fire too high and dangerous for Elian to cross.

  Lord Mikhail, still clinging to Janice, backhanded John across his cheek with a sharp crack of his knuckles against the cheekbone. John literally flew through the air and landed on one of his lines of fire. Partially unconscious, the fire started to get out of his control. He screamed, writhing in his own flames as the unpleasant smell of cooked flesh rose around them.

  “Bell, wherever you are, get here right the fuck now!” Valorie yelled.

  “No need to shout,” Bell said. He held his hands behind his back as he walked around Valorie’s tent. “Do you have an answer for me?”

  “Is this your—”

  “No. It’s the trespassers’ doing,” Bell said. “No more, no less. It’s unfortunate, but I didn’t manipulate it into happening. If Charles had stayed away as promised, his family would have been safe. It is their doing.”

  So it was Bell’s doing by his inaction. But he wouldn’t agree with that, and she didn’t have the time to argue a human’s understanding of cause and effect with Bell.

  “They’re not a threat to the circus,” Valorie s
aid. “Please let them go. Let them all go. Make them forget. I’d wish if I could.”

  “Do you have an answer for me, or do you want me to go get you some potion for that foot?” Bell said mildly.

  Valorie turned back to the wife she should have been and the husband and son she should have had.

  “I’ll make it worth your while, Sasha!” Valorie called to her. “I swear it. Please, just give me a minute.”

  John coughed, trembling as though an electrical current was going through his body as he called the fire back in, swallowing some of it into his gasping mouth. The blazes around him calmed before they could reach people or the canvas tents. That left Elian open for the clowns until John staggered to his hands and knees in front of the boy.

  Lady Sasha took Elian’s wrist, but she touched her tongue to her right eyetooth as she considered Valorie’s oath. A person didn’t make a promise to jinn or demons lightly. The word of a souled being, even if spoken shallowly, went much deeper. That was why Bell could do so much with an idle wish.

  “Take your time,” Lady Sasha decided, addressing Lord Mikhail, who had tilted Janice’s chin up to kiss her.

  “With pleasure,” Lord Mikhail said. He lowered his mouth to Charles’ wife, who of course welcomed him in, clinging to his massive shoulders.

  “Thank you,” Valorie mouthed to the succubus. She struggled to ignore the burst of sexual tension low in her abdomen as Lord Mikhail’s invisible magic swirled out from him in a storm of lust.

  “Janice, no!” Charles shouted again. “Get off her, demon! In His name—”

  Lord Mikhail hit him across the face without effort, as he had with John. There were worse things to do than go against a circus strongman, but not many.

  “Charles!” Valorie glared at Bell and limped to her ex-fiancé, resting a hand on John’s head in breathless gratitude before moving on.

  She fell to her knees in front of Charles, who struggled to focus.

  “You’re going to lose them,” Valorie said quickly, as Bell surveyed the scene with dispassionate interest. He didn’t seem proud of himself, which meant he had another end game than senseless destruction, and that was the only reason she still fought to fix this instead of going straight to scratching Bell’s eyes out. “We’re going to lose them. I don’t want to go back, but I’ll do it for you if you want to save her.”