The Wilds (Reign and Ruin 1)

by Jules Hedger

  He was tall, taller than any man I had ever seen in person. The top of his red top hat might have easily reached eight feet. And he smelled of sawdust and cotton candy.

  An air of smug cruelty washed down over me, his lips curling under an oiled black slug of a mustache. His eyes were slanted down towards his long nose and unlike Tyler, there was something in his eyes that was not even trying to hide; something that seemed a lot like confident malice.

  He smiled needle teeth and I inadvertently took a small step back.

  "So here I have the prize. Let me take a look at you," the Ringmaster said. His voice slid out of his mouth like the trail of a snail. His accent was slightly Spanish and his thin black eyebrows moved with the inflections of his voice.

  Dark eyes took in my small stature, dirty face and brown hair, which must have been caked with sand and salt. He didn't linger on my necklace, but I noticed him register my chin, held high, and the way I clenched my fists to keep them from shaking.

  "The Daughter of Palet. You look so disappointingly normal."

  "What did you expect me to look like?" I asked.

  "Smoke! Glamor! Fire!" the Ringmaster crowed ecstatically. "You are the heir to the throne. You could at least have washed your face."

  "Your friends back there didn't give us much time to freshen up," I answered. The Ringmaster flicked his cigarette lazily towards the door and shrugged.

  "Charming ruffians, but they have their uses. Quite the team. And you should see them perform!" He blew a smoke ring into the air, which grew bigger and bigger until it passed through me like a giant hula hoop. "We here are all about the dramatics."

  "Obviously."

  "Well, at least I can admit it. Unlike you friend Lucan in there." With that he started to move through the tent, and I had no choice but to follow the pool of light. "He is your competitor's brother, did you know that?"

  Flashes of cages emerged and disappeared again into the dark, eyes glinting in the torch light as the animals watched us pass. "He mentioned it."

  "Funny choice of teammate." His arm pushed aside a hidden fold of fabric and we were suddenly in the light again, a warmer glow of gas lamps. The room was swathed in red cloth and couches and as he fitted the torch into a bracket on the wall, he waved me to sit with his smoking hand.

  Perching gingerly on the edge of a settee, I watched him pull out a bowl of marbles and set them pointedly on the table. They were like the ones Marty had and the one I took to enter into Palet. Funny, how something so innocent looking can be so different to your childhood memories. He flicked back his coattails and sat down across from me. His silver rings glinted in the gas light.

  "So when do I call Cirrus to pluck the petal from the bud?" he murmured, picking a piece of tobacco leaf from the tip of his tongue.

  "I'm surprised you're even asking," I replied. The Ringmaster tsked and shook a finger in my direction.

  "Why? Not eager to be reunited with your love?" His smile grew nasty. "Does he suffocate you? Do you yearn to be free?"

  "You don't know what you're talking about," I said.

  "It's a toxic relationship, and it's him. He clings, doesn't he?" he asked, leaning forward as if to start gossip. I drew back in disgust and he flashed me a knowing smile. "I see, then. You are really Walking, then?"

  The Ringmaster reached above his head and pulled a thin string, and the faint toll of a bell rang somewhere far away.

  "Please do help yourself," he said suddenly, motioning to the marbles. I shook my head and his face fell a little in disappointment. He considered the bowl and used his long fingers to fish one out from the bottom. Meanwhile, I noticed for the first time the whip he wore on his hip. It clung to his side as a sleeping millipede. I moved my eyes away quickly and found him watching me with sly eyes. His tongue was rolling the marble around in his mouth slowly.

  "There are stories flying around Palet, the main rumor being a couple's spat. Two crossed lovers fighting it out for the throne." He wrung his heads mockingly and pulled the face of distress. "If they could only work it out, we would have peace! And they could rule together." He broke out laughing and swallowed the marble in one smooth gulp. "You are really the golden couple to those who don't know better."

  "But you do."

  "I do," he whispered. Shutting his eyes, he leaned back in the chair and drew a great sigh. He ran his hands up and over his chest as the drugs kicked in and the blood rushed to his brain. And at that point, the crimson fabric of the wall was lifted up by Leof, pulling along Lucan. Timothy followed obediently behind. The Ringmaster stirred and opened his eyes. Upon seeing Leof, his face lit up with pupils the size of the moon.

  "Oh what fun! What an absolute hoot. A prize for me!" The Ringmaster rose, teetering a bit, and began to circle Lucan. "Do you recall when I last saw you?" Lucan clamped his mouth shut and watched the Ringmaster stroke his the whip tenderly. "You were gearing up to be quite the protégé. Cirrus had very high hopes," he said. "Too bad they were so high you ended up ten feet off the ground."

  Leof laughed and Timothy joined in, but I doubt he understood why. I took in Leof's pistol, Timothy's fists, the Ringmaster's whip. What I wouldn't have given for something to help me fight back. I was beginning to get really sick of being toyed with.

  The Ringmaster was delicately rubbing a marble along Lucan's lips. Lucan jammed his teeth together and tensed his jaw, but the Ringmaster was whispering soothing noises in his ear.

  "Come now, petal. Open up. It all feels so good, don't you know? We would all have so much more fun." His teeth closed over Lucan's earlobe and tugged gently.

  I couldn't take it anymore.

  "So now what?" I asked, standing up pointedly and opening my hands. The men turned towards me and I saw Lucan raise his eyebrows. It was a warning, probably a really sensible one. But I ignored it. "It's not the first time I've been kidnapped. You must have a plan. Care to share it?"

  Leof glanced uneasily at his boss. The Ringmaster's whip was unrolled and his eyes were only for me as he idly dragged it through the hard packed dirt floor. He casually tossed the marble back into the bowl where it landed with a soft clack.

  "Well, I could turn you in for a sizable reward if I wanted." He flicked the end of his whip with a sharp snap that made me flinch. "And I desperately do want to. I want to turn you in, Maggie, for the money; in addition, I would love to see the little bastard brother Lucan put back in his place."

  Leof gripped the back of Lucan's neck and gave his cheek a little lick. I could see the effort Lucan was making not to explode.

  "And what about Cirrus, Maggie? Something in those rumors must be true. Does he hold a torch for you? For what he wants?" The Ringmaster sucked his needle teeth and winked. "You cannot be so impervious to him, either. But I don't think you know what you want. Yet."

  We remained silent, although I wanted to knock the pointy teeth out of his jaw.

  "However, I have a new proposition for you." He flicked the tip of his whip towards Leof. "Leof, please step over here for one second."

  Leof slicked back his hair and stepped around Lucan. The Ringmaster clapped him on the shoulder and pinched his cheek.

  "Did you know he was my nephew?"

  "No, I did not," I said.

  "Since his father died, I've been looking after him. He's a good boy. Absolutely insane, addicted to havoc. But all in all, a good catch."

  Leof rolled his eyes and adjusted the pistol in his belt.

  "So what? He also held me at gun point and sliced a friend open," I replied through gritted teeth. The Ringmaster waved it away.

  "Business, business. The world keeps turning round and people are killed and bartered and made rich by business." He placed one hand on my shoulder – it was clammy with sweat and heat, blood boiling under his skin from the marble, but it still sent a shiver down my back. "And now for my business. I brought you here, Maggie, because I could turn you in. But I won't."

  "You won't?"

  "You won't?" Leof pa
rroted, looking at his uncle like he was crazy.

  "No!" The Ringmaster squeezed our shoulders gleefully. "I will not. I will let you live and rule this great land. And you will marry my nephew and he will rule you."

  I think both Leof and I were both too shocked to say anything. It was almost laughable. Marry Leof? Marrying anyone seemed ridiculous, but marry this guy? This cruel, ugly bounty hunter? Pass.

  But before I could protest Old Weasel Face piped up.

  "I am not marrying her!" Leof said angrily. He was backing away from both of us, shaking his head determinedly. "She has tits like a little boy."

  "Woah, slow down cowboy!" I replied before I knew what I was doing. "I don't want to marry you either! And you can fuck right off, you're not getting anywhere near my tits."

  "Children, calm down," the Ringmaster hushed. He turned to Leof. "You could be King. Don't you want that for yourself?"

  "What I want is a woman who doesn't come with such a big mouth," he shot back. Behind him, Lucan's face was growing redder and redder. Timothy was watching the uproar with great interest and his grip on Lucan was getting slack. "Think I want the soiled goods of someone like Cirrus?"

  "And what is that supposed to mean?" I cried.

  "He's one sick fuck. And you're trying to push his whore –"

  But before he could finish, Lucan's fist lashed out and struck Leof viciously on the back of the head. Leof barreled to the side and I heard a crack as his forehead hit the sharp edge of the ornamental table. The bowl of marbles tipped over and scattered across the table top, the sandy floor and under furniture. As Leof's body slumped to the ground and the room went still, all that could be heard was the sound of rolling glass.

  The Ringmaster looked up and I quickly took a step back. His eyes were twin infernos of fire, burning in the gas light, and before Lucan could move Timothy lunged forward to wrap his torso in a gigantic bear hug. Lucan struggled, fighting desperately against the grip, but Timothy was as solid as a pillar of concrete.

  The Ringmaster pulled the whip through his hands slowly, his gaze scorching and unwavering on Lucan pushing and twisting in Timothy's arms.

  "Take him outside," he said softly. It was too soft, like the calm before a terrifying, death-defying storm. "A lesson needs to be taught for boys who put their hand in the cookie jar." And with that Lucan was pulled out of the red chamber and back through the dark room to the ring.

  My body was made of stone for a few seconds. They had left me alone and I could run. I knew that I could grab my backpack, discarded next to Leof, and run back through the sands of the Wilds. But my brain wasn't speaking to my limbs and I found myself staring blankly at a particularly shiny cat's eye marble that had settled by my heel.

  But then I heard a sharp crack in the distance and all at once my feet were moving towards Leof before I could think. I had no time to close my eyes, calm down, think this over. My hands reached to his belt – he was still breathing – and pulled out the pistol.

  Crack.

  I moved quickly through the middle chamber, the animals following me as I sped thoughtlessly past. No one noticed as I broke back through the tarp into the large performance ring.

  Crack!

  Lucan was on his knees and I could already see the blood dripping softly down his tanned skin and down the sides of his muscled calves. Timothy stood a few feet away, biting his fist and rocking back and forth.

  The Ringmaster had removed his red coat and top hat. His hair gleamed in the torch light and glistening sweat had begun to gather on his brow as he raised his arm and brought it down, expertly lashing his bull whip across Lucan's torn back.

  Crack! Crack!

  Lucan let out a strangled cry and stiffened against his binds. None of them noticed me raise the pistol. Until I cocked it backwards with an ominous hammer click.

  I had never held a gun before. My mother was strictly anti-gun, but my uncle had one in the house. It was stashed underneath the sink and every time I got a glass of water, I faintly remembered it was there, wrapped in a piece of greasy dish towel and loaded. At least, I think it was loaded. Marty once got so high he convinced my uncle to get it out. They ended up trying to shoot the rats in the street below, but they couldn't see straight and left the gun beneath the window. I kicked it under the rug because I couldn't stand to touch it. And now here I was, shooting my own kind of rats out the window.

  The Ringmaster's arm froze and when he turned around, his face was a mask of fury. The blood had rushed to his face and sweat dripped down onto his collar. He no longer looked terrifying, only ugly and cruel and out of control.

  But I was the one with the gun.

  "And when she was good, she was very, very good," he breathed.

  "And when she was bad, she was horrid," I finished, regarding him evenly down the nose of Leof's pistol. I was remarkably calm and centered. Or at least I think I felt calm; perhaps it was just incredibly similar to bat-shit crazy.

  "This is not how you gain followers here," he said.

  "You know what I've realized?" I laughed, "I've realized that unless I have one of these –" My gun hand shook and the Ringmaster took a cautious step back. "– no one is going to follow me anywhere. I'm better off alone."

  "You will never be alone in Palet," he said.

  "I am always alone." My voice came out in a grim whisper like the rustling of dry leaves. I straightened my arm and looked down the barrel of the gun. It was surprisingly easy to envision myself pulling the trigger and releasing the burning, gray bullet into the air. It didn't scare me at the time. But it should have. I didn't think what it meant for my soul. What it was doing to my heart . . .

  "You will let Lucan go and you will allow us to leave," I said. "There will be no marriage today." The Ringmaster's mouth twisted up over his sharp teeth, emitting a low growl, and I saw his fingers tighten around his whip. "And if you want a bullet in your skull, keep grinning."

  Timothy was staring at the gun like it was the one thing he could understand; there was no help coming from him.

  "You have so much courage now," the Ringmaster purred. "But I remember how you quailed at the sound of my boots. Will you have the courage now to kill a man?"

  "Want to find out?" I took a step forward to illustrate my point, but the Ringmaster only shook his head pityingly.

  "He's not worth it, you know. A coward through and through. He wouldn't kill for you." He smiled. "It's the real measure of a man, that. The ultimate sacrifice."

  Those words would forever follow me. I did not know it then, but they would, like an ancient, gypsy curse. And I am truly sorry for that, but how was I to know? If I had, perhaps I could have said something, something that would make the declaration untrue. But it hung in the air like perfume, clinging to my clothes and seeping into my skin . . .

  The Ringmaster made to walk away and my arm relaxed, but with the sound of a cat he turned on his heel and reared forwards towards me. His arm flashed and I reeled back from the whip approaching my face like in slow motion. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and saw fireworks, red and blue stars exploding in the black.

  And my body was suddenly thrust backwards, shaking with a force like a locomotive and sending vibrations down my limbs that made my teeth rattle. My ass hit the ground and the air burst out of my body from the impact. My hand was suddenly extremely hot and I dropped the pistol to the ground with a cry.

  My ears rang with a loud, pulsating hum. The light swirled the images around my vision like a kaleidoscope but as my eyes adjusted, I saw the small wisps of smoke rising from the mouth of my dropped pistol. Raising my hand to my face, my fingers felt along my unmarred cheek. The whip must have missed.

  I numbly lolled my head around and saw the Ringmaster standing where I had left him. His whip hung limp in his hands.

  It didn't take long for it to register. As his eyes rolled into his head and his tall body made the long fall to the ground, I realized that the bullet had left the pistol and hit his stomach. Or chest
. I hadn't had a chance to look closely before he fell, but I was definitely the one who put it there. My hand had pulled the trigger and I had killed him.

  I killed him.

  I must have sat there for a full minute, maybe more, just watching the sand soak up the blood. A bit had splattered across my white top and I thought I felt a wetness on my neck, but I wasn't going to touch it in case my fingers came away red.

  "I hate to ask this, because it sounds so damn insensitive, but it would be real useful to have you untie my hands from this pole."

  I stood up clumsily and staggered over to Lucan. Timothy was still rocking back and forth, his hands covering his ears from the gun blast. As the ties fell from his wrists, Lucan rose and surveyed the ring.

  "Seems like you're always untying me from compromising positions," he murmured under his breath. I nodded blankly. Lucan walked quickly over to the where I had fallen and picked up the discarded pistol. He eyed me as his fingers counted the shots. "You ok?"

  Again, I nodded but my face jerked into life when I remembered his back. "What about you? Aren't you bleeding?"

  Lucan grimaced. "I'll live." He shut the barrel of the gun with a click and walked over to where I was watching. "We need to finish this. If you've had enough, go outside."

  "No, I'm fine," I said, but I couldn't stop the tremor in my voice.

  "Because they'll only come after us," he continued. I knew what that meant.

  "Right, no, I'm not fine. I'll go outside." I pushed away his hands and walked as quickly as I could back out into the desert. I continued a little ways into the sand, but not far enough to miss the two distinct gun shots. I could just imagine Timothy, with his fingers in his ears, and Leof unconscious on the floor.

  And that makes four.

  Four people dead; killed because I showed up. And one of them by me. How many girls shoot their first man at 22? I breathed in as hard I could, letting the oxygen rush to my brain and feeling the world spin as I got dizzier and dizzier.

  Before I hit the sand I vaguely sensed two large hands catch me. They held me tightly and lowered me to the ground in a cradle. I kept my eyes closed. I knew it was Lucan. And I knew he had just militantly murdered two people. But his embrace was soft and comforting and for now, with my eyes closed, I could forget where I was.