by Trudi Jaye
She thought of Garth lying with his eyes wide open in a waking sleep, and forced herself to place her hand on the dragon’s head.
Lightning flashed and sent a shockwave down her arm. Rilla yelped in pain, pulling her hand back. She’d felt the electric shock right up into her body. Flicking her arm to alleviate the residual sting, she stepped back another pace. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
But as she watched, the dragon blinked, its blue-green scales quivering awake like waves on the sea. Its wings spread out then closed back into its sides. The dragon opened its jaws wide, showing rows of wickedly sharp teeth, and then snapped them shut. Heart hammering, Rilla stood locked in place.
A rumbling emanated from the creature and it lifted a blue-scaled front leg toward her, stomping it onto the ground by her feet. She jumped but didn’t move away, unsure how to respond. It shook its leg and looked down, obviously indicating she should climb the leg.
“I don’t think…” she began.
The dragon snarled, showing its razor-sharp teeth.
Rilla swallowed then scrambled up the leg, climbing the warm scales awkwardly, trying not to grab too tight in case she hurt the creature. She swung one leg over and sat astride the dragon’s back, just behind its wings. The buzz of magic hummed through her whole body from the physical contact, and Rilla trembled with the sheer raw power.
“Now what?” she said softly, leaning forward and stroking the dragon’s head.
Even as she asked the question, a vision slammed into her mind, almost knocking her back off the dragon. She leaned close to the creature’s body, finding a handhold where the wings met its body, and squeezed her eyes shut.
She could see a beautiful, young teenaged girl with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes filled with tears, standing with two men, one obviously the Ringmaster from his clothing and bearing. Both men had old-fashioned sideburns and their clothes indicated they were from a long time ago. The girl’s clothing was dirty and ripped. They stood near the carousel, the main circus tent visible in the background.
The two men were frowning down at the girl as she talked excitedly. She held out her arm, fresh wounds visible along her skin. Rilla shuddered. It was Betty from the journal, and from the marks on her arm, the young girl had tried to kill herself after being expelled from the Carnival.
But something had saved her. Some miracle had occurred that she was trying to explain to the two men. Rilla struggled to hear their voices, trying to understand what was happening in the scene in front of her—at first it was difficult; they were low murmurs from far away. But she sank lower into the scene, and suddenly she was part of it.
What have you done, Betty? asked the Ringmaster.
I have found a new source of power! I can feel it coursing through me, so much stronger than anything I have ever felt before. Can you not feel it, too? It has given me the strength I needed to control the blocking. I understand it now. I am not taking away your powers completely, but am absorbing them into myself. And I can give it back to the Carnival three-fold.
Betty gazed up at the two men, her eyes pleading.
The Ringmaster’s face as he stared down at Betty’s arm was a picture of horror. Betty, where did this power come from? Did it appear after you cut yourself?
Betty nodded, her curls bouncing in her enthusiasm. It’s easy. I don’t mind doing it. Not if it means I can come back to the Carnival.
The Ringmaster turned to look at his companion, and for the first time, Rilla realized she was looking at the Giftmaster. His eyes were blacked out, just like Garth’s. He even looked similar to Garth—something about the expression on his face.
What do we do, Eduardo? What does the Carnival say? The Ringmaster appeared desperate.
You know what this is as well as I do, Ignatius. She has discovered curse magic. The Carnival will not allow it.
Eduardo the Giftmaster turned to Betty. I am sorry, my child, there is nothing we can do. Anyone using curse magic is given a lifetime ban from the Carnival.
Betty’s eyes widened, and she looked frantically from Eduardo to Ignatius. But I can control it now. I’m not blocking anymore. I fixed it.
But you are using curse magic to do it. Eduardo reached out one hand and placed it on Betty’s cheek, his black eyes full of compassion. The moment you pulled the curse power from your wounds into your body, you doomed yourself to never see the Carnival again.
But…But I won’t block anymore. I promise. I’m so much stronger now. I can give it to you, as well. Can’t you feel it?
Betty grabbed the Giftmaster’s hand where it still lay against her cheek and squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating on something only she could see.
The Giftmaster’s eyes widened and he stood immobile, his hand caught by Betty’s.
Let him go, Betty. You cannot change the Carnival laws. The Ringmaster’s voice sounded resigned rather than frightened. He didn’t seem concerned by what Betty was doing.
Can you not feel it, Ignatius? I have pushed the power into the Carnival through Eduardo. Is it not glorious?
The Ringmaster took a step backward and gazed down at his hands as if he was seeing them for the first time. I…I feel it. It does indeed feel magnificent.
For a moment, the Ringmaster stood, the power almost visibly coursing through his veins, a glow surrounding all three figures. The stunned expression on the Ringmaster and Giftmaster’s faces made them appear high on some kind of drug. And then the spell ended. The Ringmaster opened his eyes and looked down at Betty, an indescribable sadness in his eyes.
Betty, we cannot use this power. It is curse power, the very opposite of all we stand for.
Betty was still holding the Giftmaster’s hand against her cheek. For the first time, a spasm of pain showed on her face. I would cut myself for you. Every day, if you needed me to. Just don’t leave me by myself again. I can’t live without the Carnival.
The Giftmaster started to gasp for breath, but neither Betty nor the Ringmaster noticed. They were both caught up in the pain of the moment. Large tears welled in Betty’s eyes, falling silently down her cheeks.
I am truly sorry, Betty. I wish it could be otherwise. I wish we had the power to bend the will of the Carnival, but we do not.
Beside them, the Giftmaster was choking; he couldn’t gather a breath, and his face was turning a dull grey. His hand where it was attached to Betty turned first a pale grey then dark grey then finally a roughened black.
But still Betty and the Ringmaster didn’t notice. They were in a stupor, both staring into each other’s eyes, a well of wretchedness echoing between them.
Slowly, the darkness rode up the Giftmaster’s arm. By the time it reached his shoulder, he was frozen in place, his breathing completely stopped and his eyes open wide in a rictus of pain. The darkness spread quickly from there up his neck, over his face, until his whole body matched the darkness in his eyes. One last puff of breath was expelled out between his lips.
The Giftmaster was dead.
His body began to crack along the surface of his blackened skin, like a burned piece of wood. The noise broke Betty and the Ringmaster out of their trance. Betty screamed when she saw Eduardo. His hand still covered her cheek, and she tried to pull back, to move away from his darkened touch. But he seemed to be attached to her somehow, and all her frantic efforts did nothing.
What have you done, Betty? What has happened to Eduardo?
I do not know! Betty’s anguished cry echoed through the Carnival.
The Ringmaster loomed over the young girl, although he was careful not to touch her. Think, girl. What did you do? You must undo it, or we will all be lost.
Betty gave a sob that seemed to come from her very soul. I simply pushed the power through him and into the Carnival. I know you felt it. I know you wanted more of it.
But look what you have done to Eduardo. You must pull your curse magic back. The aguish in Ignatius’s voice was palpable.
Betty continued to sob
quietly, but she squeezed her eyes shut and put her hands up to touch the blackened skin of Eduardo’s hand where it still held her cheek.
As the Ringmaster watched, Betty pulled the curse magic back out of the Carnival, through the Giftmaster. Eduardo’s skin bubbled and lightened to a mottled grey, but he did not revive.
As she pulled the curse magic back into herself, Betty’s skin went through the same transformation as the Giftmaster’s. She turned grey, and her breaths became gasps, then her skin darkened until she was almost black all over. Even her hair went from a golden blonde to a dull dark grey.
Her inhalations slowed and she struggled to keep breathing. I…just…wanted…to…come…home...
Her last breath sighed out of her mouth and the Ringmaster just gaped at the two blackened statues in front of him, anguished expressions on both their lifeless faces.
What have we done? the Ringmaster whispered to himself. This is where my leadership has taken us. How will we go on?
***
Rilla sprinted to Frankie’s caravan, clutching the diary in one hand. Her head was still spinning from what she’d seen. She knew it was more than a vision—she’d seen the Carnival’s memories of what had happened to that poor child and their Giftmaster.
“Jack!” She banged on the door, her breath coming in frantic bursts.
When Frankie opened the door, she climbed the stairs into the dark cave of his caravan, pushing him out of the way. “Jack, you have to start practicing. You can stop it. You can control it. But you have to do it fast.” The words tumbled out of her mouth and she could barely tell if she was making sense.
Jack looked up from where he sat, a glass of amber liquid and a bottle of whiskey on the table next to him. His eyes were shadowed and stubble covered his chin. “What are you talking about?”
“I found out how Betty did it. She used curse magic. She gave them their powers back, plus some, but she did it all the wrong way because she was young. She didn’t know what she was doing.” Rilla went to stand in front of Jack, desperately trying to make him understand. “The moment she touched the Giftmaster, it all went wrong.”
Jack shook his head. “Rilla, I’m the one causing this. I have to go. Frankie’s taking me to Las Vegas.”
Rilla turned to glare at Frankie.
Frankie spread his arms and glared back. “It’s legitimate. He can’t stay, not if he’s going to take our powers away.” Frankie’s voice was sulky, like a little boy who knows he’s doing something wrong but won’t admit it.
“It’s too late. He can’t leave now, he touched Garth. He has to learn to control it and undo what he’s done.”
Jack lifted his head to look at Rilla. “I can control it?”
“You just have to concentrate. You can stop this and wake Garth… Your power isn’t blocking. Your power is absorbing.”
“Absorbing?” Jack blinked blearily at Rilla.
“Yes! You soak up the power, the energy, from the people around you, so it feels like they no longer have access to their power. It feels like you’re blocking us, but really, you’re just acting like a sponge, gathering it all together in one place. And you can give it back to us. I’ve seen it.”
“How do I stop it?” Jack’s face stilled and he looked hopeful for the first time.
Rilla took a breath. “I don’t know. But you can. You can send it back to the people you’re absorbing it from. Try closing your eyes and concentrating.” Rilla hoped she was right. She didn’t know exactly how Betty had pushed the power through to the Carnival—she’d just seen that she could do it.
“Concentrate how? Exactly what do I have to do?”
Rilla let out a breath. “I can’t tell you that. You have to figure it out for yourself.”
“Where exactly did you find this out?” Frankie asked suspiciously.
“I found an old diary from the 1800s about a girl who was a blocker. Dad had it hidden in the secret compartment you told me about.” She glanced at Frankie, willing him to be on her side. “And then… I went to the dragon and…and I climbed on its back. It showed me what happened.”
Frankie’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that…I don’t know… against the rules?”
Rilla swallowed. “I had the impression it would have been angry with me if I didn’t get on it.” She gripped the diary in her hands. “It helped me to understand what we need to do. Jack can return the energy he soaks up back to us. I saw her do it, only using curse magic, so it went wrong. But he has to hurry. I think Garth’s life could be at stake.” A vision of the Giftmaster’s blackened body flashed through her mind.
“But you didn’t see how it actually happens?” said Jack.
“Well, she closed her eyes. And it just seemed to happen.” Rilla shook her head. “I don’t know any more than that.”
“Jack, this is huge.” Frankie stepped forward. “Up till now, we thought there was nothing we could do.”
“Yeah, but we don’t know how it works! That’s no help. I don’t know how to control the power I’m supposedly taking from everyone, and I don’t know how to stop it, let alone return it.”
Rilla thought of how it felt when her own power was heightened. “You must be able to feel it… pulsing through your veins?”
Jack ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head in agitation. “I can feel something. But what you’re telling me is almost worse than just blocking the power of others. Basically, I steal other people’s power.” He spread his arms to indicate everyone in the Carnival.
“It’s not stealing. It’s reapportioning,” said Rilla firmly. “And you can do something about it. You can control it. In fact, you have to control it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Jack held his breath until he could feel his face going red and the veins bulging in his neck; then he let it out in a violent rush. “This is ridiculous. I don’t know how the hell to do this.”
He slumped in his chair and took another sip of the whiskey in his glass. Around him, Frankie’s computers hummed to a tune only they could understand.
“Just push it out. Hold your stomach muscles in and kind of push from your center,” said Rilla.
Jack screwed up his face and tried to push out from his center. Nothing happened. He just felt stupid.
Frankie had been sitting silently in his corner of the room, his eyes occasionally checking his laptop on the table beside him. He suddenly pushed his chair forward, his elbows planted on his knees. “What if we’re trying to teach him the Carnival way? What if he has to figure it out for himself?”
Jack frowned, a spark of anger zig-zagging along his spine. “That’s a terrible idea. You’re just trying to make me do it on my own.” He glared at Frankie.
“No, just hear me out,” said Frankie, holding up his hands. “We grew up knowing this stuff, believing in it. When our abilities came in, even mine, we knew how to work them instinctively. But it was from years of living with it. What if you have to learn it in your way?”
“What are you talking about?” Rilla frowned at Frankie. “Stop playing around.”
“You’re not getting it. Either of you. Jack, how do you think about magic? What does it mean to you?”
“Before I saw the dragon, I would have said it was a load of nonsense.” Now he could feel it swirling around him like a cloak.
“Right. So, what kind of magic had you seen before?”
Jack thought back. “Magicians. The man who took a penny from my ear when I was a kid at a birthday party.”
“It’s a performance-based magic, right?”
Jack nodded uncertainly.
“You need to use some kind of staging to help you get into this.”
“You want me to wave my arms in the air and say abracadabra? You think that’s what’s missing?” For a second, he’d thought Frankie might be on to something.
“No, no, pay attention. I think you need to convince your brain to open up to the power your body is automatically storing. We need to think like someon
e raised outside the Carnival.”
“It could work,” said Rilla, her voice thoughtful. She leaned toward Jack. “I think you should try it.”
Jack sighed and stood up in the center of the room. He waved his hands in a feeble arc. “Abracadabra,” he said sarcastically.
Rilla glared at him. “You have to do this properly, Jack. Garth is lying in his caravan, out cold, while you play around.”
Jack huffed out an annoyed breath. Thoughts of Garth just made his heart rate increase and sweat break out on his palms, and that didn’t help anything. “Despite what you’re saying, this performance stuff doesn’t come naturally to me.”
“What does come naturally, then?” Rilla asked suddenly.
Jack pulled at his hair, trying to think where he felt most at home. “Writing, I guess. I’m a writer. That’s what I understand. I’m more of a one-to-one kind of guy, not a one-to-thousands performer.” He saw Frankie’s glance and straightened his spine. “But I will work on being like that, if I become Ringmaster. I’m going to learn it.”
“What if you wrote it down? Or did some kind of free-styling thing to see if you can draw it out?” said Rilla, ignoring his Ringmaster comment.
Jack raised his eyebrows then looked at Frankie, who shrugged.
“Couldn’t hurt,” said Frankie.
“We need to try something,” Jack said. “Frankie, where do you keep the paper?”
Frankie rummaged around for paper and a pen and handed them to Jack. “Don’t waste it. I don’t have any more in here.” He checked out the blue screens that dotted the room.
Jack settled himself into his chair, grasped the pen in one hand, and focused on the white piece of paper in front of him. He put pen to paper and started to write, letting random words fall onto the page, trying not to write anything in particular. The pen began to move faster and faster over the page, and soon his hand was whirring along the lines.
