by Esme Devlin
“Fucking pills? Oh no, my sweet girl. You are mistaken. We don’t do that shit here.”
“Baron!” I try to choke more words out but they get lost in his heavy breaths.
“What the fuck did they have you addicted to?”
“Nothing,” I cry.
He pulls me toward him only to slam me back again. “Do not fucking lie to me.”
I cry out again, terrified. “Baron, please.”
“Don’t fucking beg, either. I need to be in a certain mood for that, and I assure you now is not the time. Answer the damn question. Sapphire, before I do something we both regret.”
“Vitamins!” I cry out. “Vitamins. Supplements. Medicine that stops you from catching the curse!”
He freezes. Just a moment, but in that moment my heart stops beating. Then his chest moves. He’s laughing. “Fuck.”
Baron drops me like I’m burning him, and I almost stumble as he puts a few steps between us. “Fuck,” he repeats, laughing again. “My poor, innocent, naive little girl. Is that what Maxim told you?”
My hands are on my throat trying to rub away the ache his fingers left, but I manage a small nod.
He shakes his head. “A lie to ensure you never leave him, no doubt. There is no cure. No prevention. Only luck.”
This time when he walks to the door, he doesn’t look back.
“You have twenty minutes.”
I spend the first quarter of the allotted time completely unable to do anything useful. Instead, I just sit there and try to stop my hands from shaking.
Then I realize my makeup usually takes an hour, and I only have twenty minutes. It would be stupid to provoke him any more than I have already.
Not yet. Not until I find my bearings.
I find the bathroom and wash as much of myself as possible, then I set about trying to make myself look presentable. The makeup isn’t exactly up to carnival standards, but it’s not horrible, either.
The clothes he set out for me consist of black stockings and a long-sleeved black dress. Between them both, the only parts of my body on show and flesh-colored are my hands. No shoes.
Feeling certain I’ve taken longer than twenty minutes, I don’t hesitate before slipping out of the door. Across the corridor, there are two doors, and I don’t know which one is the correct one.
I feel hands on my shoulders, and my back connects with a hard chest as I’m yanked off my feet.
“We really must get you a watch,” he says, his voice low and full of danger. “Or perhaps one of those timers with the sand. We can think of delightful ways to punish your tardiness. Would you enjoy that?”
“No,” I whisper.
“Oh, I think I would,” he says, spinning me around and pushing me back against the wall. He pauses for a long moment while he stares down at me, and I get the feeling he is inspecting my makeup.
“Listen carefully. We are going to a show tonight. You will listen to my every order. You can either sit on my knee and act like you want to be there, or I’ll put you in a collar and have you sit at my feet. I assure you the view will be nowhere near as good from the floor.”
Something burns inside me at his words. I’ve listened to his stupid demands. I’ve cuddled into his chest. I’ve painted my face. I’ve done everything he’s asked.
But I can’t do this forever.
“I’m not a dog.”
He lets out a singular laugh and tilts his head to the side. “What an enlightening observation. What do you suggest, my sweet girl? Shall we walk in side by side? Or perhaps I should crawl in behind you on my own leash? Would you like that?”
Even though he’s talking about himself, his tone is still threatening. “No.”
His hands move to either side of my head, boxing me in against the wall. He leans his head in close to me and says, “Let me make this perfectly clear for you. You think Maxim had women? I have ten times the number. Do you think this is one, big, happy sisterhood I am running for the sheer fucking joy of it? Those women will eat you up and spit you out. If they even suspect for a moment I give favors to anyone, they will tear her to pieces just for a hope in hell’s chance of taking her place. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I can’t look at him, but I nod.
“I will have my answer.”
“Yes. I understand,” I say through gritted teeth.
I understand perfectly.
His word is law.
My wants do not matter.
It’s what every other girl at the carnival had to learn long before they reached my age.
“That pleases me more than you can comprehend. Now tell me, shall I have Andrei fetch you a collar and a pretty chain? Maybe I’ll attach one to each of your nipples, too. Give them a little tug every time I catch you looking away.”
“No!”
No. I would rather sit on his knee for the entire evening than do that.
Baron leans in close to me and places his hard metal mask against the top of my head. “Such a clever girl,” he says as his hands graze the top of my shoulder. He’s gentle, and it lasts only a few seconds before he pulls back and yanks me from the wall to stand in front of him.
“Walk,” he says.
12
Sapphire
Baron sits in a chair that is raised high on a platform at the back of the room. He may as well be a king sitting on a throne, for he looks exactly like it. Legs spread, arms resting on the sides of the chair.
He nods once at me as I stand in front of him, clearly gesturing for me to sit down.
I can feel eyes on me everywhere.
Everyone is curious.
They whispered and muttered under their breaths as I walked in front of Baron with my head bowed low—just as he told me.
Tinker. Gypsy. Filthy whore.
Slurs I’ve heard all my life, but somehow they never hurt as much when I was with my own people. Now it’s only me, and with the full painted face there is absolutely no chance of blending in like the rest of the women here.
I crawl onto his knee like a mouse approaching a lion.
He wastes no time in bringing his arms around me, one crossing my back while the other rests lazily across my stomach. My legs—black from the stockings I’m wearing—dangle over the arm of the chair.
The room is massive. I notice the dome I saw outside curving up in the middle of the roof, a large unlit chandelier hanging down from the center. The lights attached to the walls are dimmed down low, but they illuminate the benches on all four sides. They start at ground level, the one behind it getting higher and higher again until there is barely enough space for a man to stand up before he hits the ceiling.
And they are all facing one thing.
In the center of the room sits a structure, something in between a boxing ring and a cage with eight sides. I remember that sport more than I do golf because as a child I couldn’t understand the point of it.
Two men fighting each other for entertainment?
Where is the entertainment in that?
It was a good reflection of how the old days were, though, for something so mundane to be the height of excitement. People would stay up late to watch the fights or travel to far corners of the globe to see them with their own eyes.
Strange… but I guess the old days were strange times.
Why would a man like Baron find this amusing?
I don’t need to wait long for my answer.
There is movement below us, around the sides of the cage. Men, completely bare apart from their tight-fitting shorts in various colors, enter through a small opening and arrange themselves in a circle around the edges.
I count them.
Seven.
Seven men, but eight corners.
One of them is empty?
I scan the room, looking for the eighth man.
That’s when I see her. Her.
She’s being dragged toward the cage by two large men. Crying. Feet chained together in heavy-looking manacles and arms secu
red behind her back, crossed over each other, elbows to wrists. She’s wearing some type of harness that is just black straps and leaves nothing to the imagination.
I look behind me at Baron, hoping he will explain, but he just points his head toward the ring—a silent reminder that I’m supposed to be watching.
I feel like I’ve swallowed a rock. I have never seen this girl in my life, and yet I feel her suffering as if it were my own.
She’s inside the cage now, being dragged to the last remaining unoccupied corner.
There, the men lift her and sit her up onto a piece of wood that juts out slightly before attaching her tied arms to the cage. Her legs dangle down, a foot from the floor. We’re too far away to see clearly, but I can hear her moans of discomfort clearly enough.
Baron leans in and nuzzles my ear with his cold face. “Her seat is pointed, like the roof of a building. Can’t imagine it’s very comfortable.”
I turn around to stare at him, feeling like I’m choking on that rock I swallowed. He is a monster.
He chuckles right in my face. “You’d have her standing the whole time? These fights can go on for hours. You’d make a cruel master.”
I shake my head at him, dumbfounded. “What is this?”
Baron traces circles around my hip, making me squirm on top of him. “Watch and you’ll see.”
“I don’t want to.”
He rests his mask against my forehead, the gesture so gentle that I forget to cower away. “Oh, my sweet girl. You must.”
The fingers circling my hip work their way up my body, and I squirm again as his rough fingers move up my arm. He takes hold of my chin and slides my head away from him, turning me back around to face the ring.
The men are moving now. Some are crouching low on the ground while others stalk them, as if ready to pounce.
A horn sounds loudly and with that—carnage.
There are bodies everywhere, moving so fast it’s impossible to keep track of who is where.
They are like savage animals.
Punching, kicking, stomping on limbs and heads with their bare feet.
Two men are bleeding heavily from various spots on their backs, arms, and chests.
“They have knives?” I have to shout to be heard over the crowd roaring.
Baron leans in close to me. “Chibs. They are like metal toothpicks, no bigger than the nail on my thumb, attached to a handle. Useless for killing, but they make one hell of a mess.”
He sounds so pleased with himself that it makes me shiver. I want to look away, close my eyes, pretend none of this is happening. But how can I do that when the other girl is stuck there, being forced to live through every second of it?
“When does it end?”
He leans back farther into the chair, pulling me with him and bringing his hand up to stroke my hair. He makes me feel like I’m an animal, a pet that offers a moment of amusement before being kicked away.
“They fight to the death,” he says. “Or at least until only one remains standing. And as long as they’re alive, they always seem to get back up. It’s as admirable as it is amusing.”
“Why? Why do they do it?”
“Because I offer the winner a handsome reward.”
I turn around to face him. “The woman?”
He nods once, and I feel bile rising in my throat. “Amongst other things. The winner receives a generous amount of money and a one-way ticket to Utopia.”
My body shakes as his chest rises and falls in a laugh.
“Utopia?”
With his hand in my hair, he pulls me in close to his mask. “They say Iceland is still free of the curse. Some have begun to call it Utopia. Me? I still call it Iceland. Utopia is just a room in my basement. The winner goes there, and I shoot him in the head.”
I feel weak. Dizzy. Nauseous. “I’m going to throw up.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “No, you’re not, silly girl. Cuddle in.”
His arms wrap around me, not giving me a choice. My skin is crawling. I need to get out of this place. Everything is telling me to run. Get as far away from here as I possibly can. As far away from him as possible.
Before I end up just like that girl down there.
But what about her? What about all the other girls who suffer here?
Baron told me he has ten times the number of women Maxim does.
How could I run and save myself and leave everyone else? Could I live with that on my conscience? And even if I could—where the hell would I go?
Where is safe in this world for a woman?
I can’t help feeling there must be more than this. There must be somewhere that isn’t just endless suffering and fear and being used by men. Tears prick my eyes as I think of the place I grew up. I thought the carnival was such a place. But I was either naive or knowingly blind there.
There is just as bad as here. They tried to kill me. And there I am possibly less safe than I am here. At least for now. I really have no idea what Baron intends to do with me.
A woman catches my eye as she approaches us. This one isn’t naked, but she may as well be with her breasts on display and a tiny pair of lace underwear covering her most private parts.
She watches me like I’m a bad smell as she approaches with a tray in her hand, stopping a few paces away from us.
Baron clears his throat and the woman immediately drops her eyes to the ground. “You don’t look at her,” he says, his hand clutching my thigh. The woman nods. “Get Andrei his usual.”
She walks backward with her eyes still low on the ground for a few steps, as if retreating from a bear, and then turns.
“Do you see what I mean now? The way she looked at you? She will be scurrying off like a sewer rat to tell the rest of them.”
I don’t know what else to do, so I just nod.
“Watch,” he orders, as if he is now bored with what little conversation I’m offering.
I turn back around just in time to see one man being repeatedly punched in the throat from behind by another man. Blinking a few times as his chest turns crimson, I realize the second man wasn’t punching. He was stabbing. The man who was hit falls to the floor in a heap just as someone else comes for his attacker.
This is… there are no words for my thoughts right now. I stare off into the distance instead, finding a spot on the wall just behind the ring. Every time the crowd cheers, I glance back over and another man has fallen. There are three left now.
Three becomes two.
And those two go on for what feels like forever.
The woman returns with a drink for Andrei, and it occurs to me that Baron can’t eat or drink with that thing on. He mustn’t take it off even in his own home.
Why?
Is it just to appear terrifying?
Surely he does that well enough just by his actions?
I’m pulled from my thoughts as the crowd erupts once more, and this time the noise does not die down.
The girl is visibly shaking now as the final victor rises from the pile of bodies around him. He is smeared in blood and dripping with sweat, walking around the ring with his arms raised, not caring who he tramples on. A set of keys are thrown into the cage, and the man darts across the ring to find them.
The girl screams, but it’s barely audible above the noise of the crowd.
I turn around and face Baron, clutching the edge of his leather jacket. I don’t even think before the words come out in a choked plea. “You must stop this. Please.”
His body tenses beneath me and immediately a shiver runs down my spine.
A moment later he stands, ejecting me from his lap and letting me drop to the wooden floor with a thud.
The noise from the crowd tapers off. My skin turns cold as I realize they’re all watching him. I look up and see him and that damn mask staring down at me. My body may be chilled but my ears are burning.
He leans down and grabs me, one hand on my arm and the other one fisted around my hair. I’m pulled up, my hand
s darting to his forearm, trying to stop the burning pressure on my scalp.
We’re already moving.
Down the steps toward the ring.
One.
Two.
Everyone is staring at me.
Four.
Eight.
I keep stumbling—he’s moving too fast.
Tears sting my eyes as he slams my body up against the wire mesh of the cage.
“What exactly are you waiting for?”
The man who was staring at us goes wide-eyed and then fumbles with the keys in his hand before walking toward the woman.
I want to close my eyes but she is staring at me. Closing my eyes would feel like taking the easy way out, and she doesn’t have that option.
The victor unchains her arms from the cage and drags her down roughly from the piece of wood she was sitting on. She screams.
And then everything happens too quickly.
He’s all over her, smearing her naked body with the blood of countless men as he tries to mount her. She kicks and lashes with her body, but her arms are still tied together behind her back and her legs are still chained.
I can’t watch this.
Baron has me pressed up against the cage, but it doesn’t stop me from struggling. Squirming. Trying to grab him with my hands.
“Baron, please,” I beg.
He’s laughing as he struggles with me. “Please? Please what? You will need to be a tad more specific, my sweet girl. If you’re going to beg, you should tell me what exactly you are begging for.”
“Stop this.”
We rear back from the cage, and for a moment, I think perhaps he will listen to me. But he still has a hold of my hair. He whistles through his mask, and two men appear in front of us. He pushes me toward them, and I almost fall to the floor before they pick me up and steady me.
“Take her back to her room and tie her up,” he shouts. He’s shouting much louder than he needs to.
The men drag me away. I try to fight, but they quickly get me under control.
“Face down on the bed,” he adds. “She won’t be able to sit down for a week by the time I’m finished with her.”
