by Chele Cooke
Glass scattered the sand and the illusionist reached into the frame. Shards crunched underneath his boots as he moved closer. On the other side of the ring, the audience were gasping and shrieking. Surprise and amazement rippled around the ring as people realised what was happening on the other side of the mirror. A head appeared first, then shoulders and arms, one hand grasping that of the illusionist. A man, a perfect double of the illusionist, clambered from the mirror, bowed to each section of the audience, and shattered into as many pieces as the mirror.
The cheering went on for at least a minute and he had to hold his hands up for a long time before the audience finally settled. Drawing out a cigarette, he lit it and inhaled deeply. Hadley leaned closer. There was something too familiar about the way he blew the smoke into the air. The farmhand she had imagined had used the same technique, but the Corapolvo citizen could not even begin to compete with the seductive motion of the illusionist. Smoke rose and swirled and, for the blink of an eye, Hadley had been sure she’d seen a ship in amongst the wisps.
“Did you…”
“A ship!”
“Did you see that?”
Whispers hummed around the audience as the smoke gathered, controlled by the illusionist’s breath. With another exhale he blew dark black flames to the ship’s engines and it disappeared in a rush, followed by galloping horses so real that Hadley could hear their hooves.
He held up his cigarette then, showing that he only had enough for one more inhale. Drawing it in, he sucked the air from the entire ring and rolled his head around and around as he exhaled up into the air. The horses split from their herd and galloped off in ten different directions, melting into stars which winked and settled into constellations.
The people around her pointed out the constellations they knew, marvelling over how the man could make something so realistic. What was the trick? How did he do it? Hadley turned her attention back to the illusionist in the centre of the ring, wondering what was next.
His dark suit and top hat were gone. Hadley stared in surprise. Before her stood a man with dark red hair tied back in a ponytail in nothing more than jeans and a t-shirt. She extended her elbow to nudge the person next to her, but stopped short. The man in the centre of the ring was staring at her. He was looking right at her. There was no illusion about the way his bright blue eyes pierced straight through her.
He lifted his finger, placed it on his lips, and winked.
He was breathing hard. He couldn’t think. The noise in the menagerie was deafening. Jack couldn’t imagine that it would be long before someone came to see what had driven the animals into such a frenzy. He stared at Clint, the menagerie man, lying unconscious in the cage. There was still a piece of stringy flesh hanging from the corner of his mouth, his hands and feet smeared with blood. It was just too insane to believe. If he hadn’t seen it himself he wouldn’t even have thought it possible. Humans couldn’t rip through flesh like that; that action was for the big cats and wild dogs.
Jack had seen some crazy things since joining the cirque and Annalise was only the beginning. The woman knew far more than she should and usually before anyone could possibly know for certain. But this? This was too far. He tongued his teeth, tempted to know whether Clint had filed his into sharper points which would allow him to tear through the skin and muscle in such a way. However, there wasn’t a chance he was going near enough to the man to find out.
“We need to get someone,” Lachlan said. “There are soldiers here, we can…”
“What?”
“We can’t…” Lachlan swayed beside him and leaned back against one of the cages. “We can’t leave him like that,”
“Huh?” Jack glanced down at Clint with a frown. “Those cages hold lions. You think it can’t hold him?”
Lachlan’s eyes closed and he waved a hand in the vague direction of the cage and Clint. He was still swaying, even leaning against the cage, and it took him a moment of gulping to speak again.
“Lions can’t work locks,” he said finally.
His gaze landed on the deadbolt lock and he realised Lachlan was right. While these cages were more than capable of holding a large cat and the other animals they housed, even the monkeys needed better locks fitted to stop them from escaping. If Clint woke, he would have no problem reaching through the bars to free himself.
“We need a lock,” he said. Lachlan nodded without opening his eyes.
Jack leapt in amongst the cages, looking for the stash of locks he was sure Clint had to be keeping around here somewhere. Hatliffe was a perfectionist when it came to the look of things once the Cirque opened for the evening and he had no idea where in the menagerie the spare parts would be kept. The extent of Jack’s menagerie knowledge was how to keep the chimps entertained.
The scent of blood was driving the animals mad. Jack could barely get a thought through his head with the screams and screeches that surrounded them. The horses reared and pulled against their ropes, flinging their heads and pawing at the ground. He gave up on finding a lock and grabbed a length of rope, returning to the cage housing Clint. Lachlan looked greener than ever.
“Here, help me tie this.”
Lachlan opened his eyes just long enough to spot the rope and the blood he could see through the loops, and quickly closed his eyes again.
“You think that’ll hold?” he asked.
“It’s all we’ve got. We tie it tight enough with the knot at the other end.”
The nod told him that Lachlan agreed but the soldier didn’t move. Jack pressed the coil of rope into his hand and threaded the other end through the hook in the deadbolt on Clint’s cage. Moving along the line, he threaded the rope through three deadbolt latches before he nudged Lachlan from his position.
“Pull it tight.”
They looped the ends of the rope past each other and pulled, Lachlan staggering in the straw. Jack tugged with all the strength he could find, the rope pulling taught as a bowstring. Two more knots were tied before Jack was satisfied it was secure. He tucked the ends of the rope around the edge of the furthest cage.
Lachlan returned to his position against the cages running down the centre of the menagerie. He was still looking woozy but at least he now had his eyes open. He glanced at the man on the floor and blanched, the last of the colour draining from his face.
Jack leaned closer to the coalition captain, his eyes narrowed as he stared at him. The man was a soldier. Surely he’d seen things before. Corapolvo was a small planet, but that didn’t stop them from having the usual crimes. How did the man before him become a captain if he had such a problem with blood?
Lachlan turned away from the dead man and looked straight at Jack. It was then that he spotted it. Lachlan’s eyes were glassy, his pupils large. Jack groaned. While the captain’s current condition would certainly please Mr. Hatliffe, it didn’t help the situation. The only hope Jack could latch onto was that Lachlan wouldn’t remember any of this by morning.
Lachlan glanced at the body again.
“What about him?” he asked. “We should find someone. Tell them what happened. I have other soldiers here.”
“What? No!” Jack cried, too quickly for his liking. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts.
“There’s been a mur… a… a crime,” Lachlan stammered.
“People will panic,” Jack said. “And people will get hurt as they try to get away. Finding your soldiers will take too long.”
Lachlan gulped and met his gaze, opening his mouth to argue. Jack shook his head.
“I’ll be faster,” he said. “I can find my boss, bring him back here.”
“I don’t know,” Lachlan said. He looked at the man on the floor and heaved.
Jack scratched his cheek. He liked Lachlan, despite everything, and he hated doing this, but it wasn’t an option. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a small hipflask.
“Here,” he said. “Drink some of this. Get rid of that bile taste.”
�
�I don’t drink.”
“It’s lemonade, not liquor. I’m not a fan either.”
Lachlan gave him a suspicious glare that made Jack feel all the worse when he took the small flask and drank down the contents without pause.
Laughter echoed down the corridor outside the entrance to the menagerie followed by the lilt of music. Jack ran to the opening and tugged the heavy drape over the entrance, fixing it in place. The last thing they needed was for other customers to see this. The fact a coalition soldier had seen it happen, dosed or not, was bad enough.
“Help me,” Jack said as he returned to the body.
“Help you what?”
Jack glanced around. Hatliffe had already found him behind the scenes with a customer tonight, but somehow he figured that the ringmaster would understand this time.
“Help me move him.”
Lachlan heaved as he moved closer. He shuddered and turned away at the idea of taking the man’s hands. They rolled him over. Blood was caked over what little of the man’s shoulder was left. Muscle was torn from the bone and it slapped onto the metal floor. Blood soaked straw clung to the wounds. Lachlan wasn’t the only one who heaved this time and both of them turned away, bracing themselves against the cages and gathering their courage.
Taking a deep breath before turning back, Jack grabbed up the man’s wrists, Lachlan his ankles, and together they lifted him. He hung between them and while Jack stared resolutely ahead, Lachlan glanced down.
“I know him,” he mumbled suddenly. “He lives a street away from me. He’s…”
Jack slid on a patch of blood and almost tumbled. His elbow cracked against a post roping in the horses. Swearing, he straightened and heaved the man a little higher from the floor.
“He’s what?”
Lachlan stared over his shoulder as he walked backwards towards the door in the corner.
“He’s my butcher.”
Jack didn’t know whether to laugh or throw up.
“Just a little further,” he said instead.
Getting through the door and around the tight corner into the back corridor took all of their concentration, which Jack was grateful for. Lachlan too lapsed into silence until they’d placed the man back on the floor.
Jack grabbed one of the tarps that had been placed in the back corridor while the cirque was open, and they rolled the butcher onto it before covering him up. Lachlan slumped against the wall, staring at the lumpy tarp.
Slipping back into the menagerie, Jack grabbed a broom and swept the soaked straw into the back corner. He took one of the buckets of water for the horses and threw it across the floor. A pink tide swept outwards and it only took a little scrubbing with the sharp-bristled broom to get most of the stain away. If anyone asked, they could say someone dropped a bucket of meat for the cats.
When he returned to Lachlan, the man was turning in a slow circle. He ran his hand through his short hair in frustration and frowned, tipping the hipflask up and trying to get the last few drops out of it. His eyes were narrowed and suspicious. Jack stepped forwards and took hold of Lachlan by the elbow.
“Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”
Lachlan looked at him in surprise.
“Why?”
Jack rolled his eyes as he pulled him back into the menagerie, back past the screaming animals.
“Because an illegal cirque landing is one thing, murder is quite another,” Jack practically shouted over the din. “And my boss won’t want you leaving this ship knowing about it.”
Lachlan nodded in understanding, even as he half crashed into a cage. Jack steadied him with a hand on his shoulder as he peeked past the heavy drape. The man had drunk the lemonade before handing over the flask, he was sure of it. He thought he’d even seen a plastic cup hanging from Lachlan’s hand at one point. He was far too pliable, far too rocky, for it to have been anything else. He wondered if someone else had pushed him into drinking it, or if he’d thought that would be safe. From what Hadley had told him, her brother was a stickler for the rules, he’d never have touched the alcohol. Lemonade seemed innocent, just another law-abiding drink. Jack felt even more guilty as he lead Lachlan along.
When he couldn’t see anyone close enough who would pay any attention to them they emerged into the corridor. Jack fixed the drape in place behind them.
“Just keep low,” he ordered.
“So you’re kicking me out?”
Lachlan’s laugh was unnerving. It was loud and coarse, like he didn’t laugh very often. Jack shook his head, pulling Lachlan down the corridor.
“No, I’m taking you to someone who will keep you safe until I can find your sister,” he said. “I don’t think either of you should be here when my boss finds out what happened.”
“Jack!” Annalise chirped. “What are you…”
Her eyes widened as Jack reached back past the drapes and dragged a pale looking Lachlan Tack past the heavy velvet. He kept a tight grip on the man’s arm and guided him into the chair. Annalise got to her feet, watching Lachlan warily. He’d been rather open in his dislike for fortune tellers. Admittedly, he didn’t look quite as stern as he had a few hours before. A wobbly smile came and faded from his lips and he let out a contented sigh as he sat down.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Anna, this is Lachlan,” Jack made short work of the unnecessary introductions. He stepped close to her and kissed her cheek. It was perfunctory, not like the way he usually kissed her, as if he’d been imaging the moment his entire day. “Keep him here for me.”
Lachlan smiled blandly up at her and Annalise gave him a brief, uncertain nod as she rounded on Jack. She grasped his shirt as he tried to skirt away from her. Pulling him closer, she lowered her voice.
“I can’t. Jack, I need to see patrons. Hatliffe is already on the warpath! He’ll…”
“He’ll be much worse if he finds him.” Lachlan interrupted in a quiet voice, turning her away from the soldier.
His expression softened and her Jack, the one only she could ever see, was back with her. Only, beneath the surface, he was rattled. She’d promised never to read him. He didn’t like knowing what was going to happen and she didn’t want to force it on him, but every now and again it was tempting to delve just deep enough to know what he was thinking. He curled his finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to his.
“Just keep him here, Anna. Please. I have to find his sister.”
Annalise felt cold. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder at the man at her table. She grimaced and chewed on her lip.
“Hatliffe is looking for her,” she said. “He went towards the ring maybe thirty minutes ago.”
“What?”
“He demanded I find her for him.”
Jack pulled her further from the table. He grasped her elbow and tugged her closer to him. Annalise shuddered and tried to draw back from him but he kept a commanding hold on her. His grip wasn’t as tight as Mr. Hatliffe, but she shrunk away from him none the less.
“Why would he want her?” he asked. “She’s no one, just a groundling engineer.”
Annalise stopped and looked up at him. She had seen Hadley with Jack when she’d performed the reading. Even when she’d seen them before arriving on Corapolvo, the Hadley of her vision had already been a member of the ship. Yet Jack knew this girl was an engineer. Gulping, she looked over her shoulder at Lachlan. Jack had already met the girl who would replace her. He already cared about her, she could see it.
“I saw her on the ship,” she said quietly, unable to meet his gaze again. “After it leaves here.”
“Shit!” Jack breathed. He released her and leapt towards the drapes. “Shit. Okay! Keep him here!”
“Jack!” She called after him but he was already gone, the velvet swinging in his wake.
Annalise glanced at Lachlan as she trailed her fingers along the heavy hangings. Gulping, she forced a smile and returned to her chair. She straightened her skirts, took a
seat, and picked up the tarot cards. She began shuffling them absently, not sure what to say.
“Well, you read my sister,” Lachlan said cheerfully after a minute. “I suppose it’s my turn.”
He dumped his hands onto the table palms up. His expression was expectant and his grin was almost cheeky, something she hadn’t thought him capable of when she’d seen him earlier in the evening. She straightened the pack of cards with deft precision.
“I thought you believed us charlatans a few hours ago.”
He cocked his head to the side. Even without looking properly, she could see that a wall had crumbled down around him. He wasn’t guarded like he had been before. He was open and carefree. It almost pulled her in, the way he looked at her. It was casual scrutiny and approval wrapped in a dark blue ocean of amusement. Perhaps it was that Jack was so distracted that made her return Lachlan’s charming grin.
“I hadn’t seen a man cannibalised a few hours ago,” he answered. “A little trickery doesn’t seem so bad now.”
Annalise’s mouth dropped open and she stared at him, all thoughts of his smile vanished in an instant.
“You what?”
“Your menagerie man. I saw him kill someone. That guy and I locked him in a cage.”
She could only stare at him, her mouth open. His tone was dismissive, amused even, though the words coming out of his mouth were too horrifying to think about.
“Are you going to read me or not?”
Lachlan waggled his fingers at her and laid his hands back on the table. She didn’t understand how he could be so calm about apparently seeing a man killed. Looking at him, she licked her bottom lip.
“Lachlan, did you drink anything tonight?” she asked.
“Just lemonade. Good stuff,” he nodded. “Actually, wouldn’t mind some more. Maybe I’ll get some while…”
He was halfway to his feet when Annalise jumped up.
“No!”
Lachlan stared at her and Annalise gave him a timid smile, stepping around the table. She took hold of his arm and urged him back into his seat.
“Jack said you should stay here. How about I give you that reading?”
