by Sarah Noffke
He smiled. “Is that question implying that you find me attractive?”
Zuma ran her eyes over Finley’s spiky dark brown hair, parted on one side and both neat and chaotic. In a better light she’d see the color of his eyes, which couldn’t be categorized as either green or brown. But the moonlight did make the angles of his cheekbones and definition of his mouth quite clear. For Zuma there was nothing unattractive about Finley’s appearance. But she managed to fake a yawn and through it she said, “I meant in general, to other people.”
“So not to you? You’re not attracted to me?” he said.
Something in Zuma’s stomach rattled, but she ignored it. “I’m your partner,” she said simply. Like that answer sufficed.
“Then to answer your question, no, I don’t put on an act of mystery so that other people will be intrigued by me.”
“Then why do you?”
The truth was, Finley thought, that if people knew who he was they’d be repulsed. He was only preserving the little bit of ego he had left. Instead of telling her the truth, Finley said, “I’m just a private person.”
“So I’ve gathered,” she said, stepping forward, eyeing the notebook in front of him. Finley, using his speed, snapped it shut and pulled it close to him.
“It’s our love letters, mine to Fanny,” he said with a sneaky grin. “I’d prefer you not read them.”
“You know there’s a no dating rule at Vagabond Circus,” Zuma said with smile.
“Rule number two,” Finley said, nodding. “But I can’t resist Fanny, so we’ve decided to act on our love.”
“You have a thing for older women, then?” she said, unable to suppress the giggle.
“Yes, and I’m a rebel who would break the rules for the person I want,” he said, his eyes on her, and because Zuma was so good at hiding emotions, he had no idea that one look torched her insides.
“Lucky Fanny,” Zuma said, all the humor in her voice gone.
Finley slid out of the picnic table and approached Zuma, leaving the notebook on the table. “I have a confession,” he said, his voice a hush.
“I’m listening,” Zuma said, realizing how fast he’d moved and now was only a foot away.
“I’m not really in love with Fanny.”
“You’re not?” Zuma said with pretend surprise, followed by a smile Finley thought should have been illegal, at least in a place like Vagabond Circus where he couldn’t get closer to it. Feel her smile against his lips.
“No, I’m not. And I have another confession,” Finley said, fighting past the breathless feeling in his chest.
“What?” Zuma said and held her own breath.
“Mr. Finley, are you ready to get back to work?” Fanny’s voice sliced between the two, the woman materializing at their side. Zuma was shocked she hadn’t noticed her approach. How did that happen? She was always aware. Finley had trouble pulling his eyes off Zuma, who looked to be experiencing the same battle.
He nodded finally.
“Good,” Fanny said, her voice warm and rich. “Now Ms. Zuma, Ms. Jasmine is doing better. Maybe check on her in an hour?”
“Yes, of course,” Zuma said, not moving, her eyes now on the older woman.
“And if you wouldn’t mind leaving us, Mr. Finley and I have an important project we’re working on,” Fanny said, her tone firm.
Zuma nodded again and turned at once, not bearing to look at Finley anymore. Those eyes. They could trap her. And his words, what he’d said and what he was about to say. It all created a storm inside her chest. She moved fast, feeling his eyes linger on her back.
Zuma was in fact correct, Finley was watching her go, unable to tear his gaze from her until she disappeared completely.
“Lovely girl, that Ms. Zuma,” Fanny said, taking a seat at the picnic table.
“Yeah,” Finley said absentmindedly.
“Too bad about the curse though.”
“Wait, what?” Finley said, turning his full attention to Fanny suddenly. She was wearing a look of knowing. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, well, it’s not something most here know.” And she wasn’t baiting him, but rather determining if he needed to know what she knew.
“I’d like to be one of the few then,” Finley said, taking the seat next to Fanny.
She studied him in the way only Fanny could do, where she saw a person and knew exactly what was best for them. Then having made a decision she nodded. “Very well. Ms. Zuma is cursed because she was born here at Vagabond Circus.”
“She was?” Finley said in astonishment. “How is that a curse?”
“Well, Vagabond Circus wasn’t always a happy place. Twenty years ago there were bad things that happened here, in the beginning,” Fanny said, her always cheery face sagging a bit. “Zuma’s parents weren’t in the circus. Her being born here was a fluke. Bad timing, for sure. Her mother went into early labor when she and her husband were here visiting Dr. Raydon.”
“I still don’t understand where this is going,” Finley said.
Fanny nodded in understanding. “There’s all sorts of powers and gifts for Dream Travelers, Finley,” she said, leaning forward, her voice a ghostly whisper. It was so different from her normal voice that it made Finley fear she’d been possessed. “One man who performed here long ago had the power of intention, but to most they know that gift as witchcraft.”
“Witchcraft?” Finley said, not disbelieving or believing. “Like as in spells and stuff?”
“Yes,” Fanny said flatly. “Exactly. And this man with the right intention could produce long-standing spells and curses. It was a subsidiary power, not the one he used in the acts. Most didn’t know about it. But there were problems and a falling out.” Fanny paused, her eyes troubled as she stared at the tabletop, not really seeing it. “And many things happened, many things that still hold a consequence over the circus to this day. And one of those is that any child born at Vagabond Circus shall forever be cursed.”
Finley wanted to laugh, wanted to pretend that curses weren’t real and he didn’t believe in them. He arranged his face into a skeptical grin, one that said, “why are you playing with me”. But Fanny simply brought her large blue eyes up to meet Finley’s with a look that chilled him all the way down to his tailbone. The fake laughter caught in his throat at once. “There isn’t really a curse on Vagabond Circus, is there?”
“Do you not think it’s possible for a single man to command people through something mysterious like magic?” And when she looked at him, Finley knew she saw more of him than anyone else. Fanny, he was certain, knew where he came from. But the fact that she wasn’t turning him in was the biggest mystery.
“Yes,” he said with a deliberate nod. “I know that can happen.”
She gave a nod of approval. So many things were being communicated between them now and so much still left unsaid.
“What was this curse this man put on the circus?” Finley asked, hardly hearing his own voice over the racing pulse in his head.
“He cursed that any child born here could never find true happiness,” Fanny said, her words a curse to Finley’s ears.
He clenched his eyes shut from the assault to his head and heart. Not only did he believe every word Fanny said, but he knew this man she spoke of and knew his curses were unstoppable.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Jasmine only missed one week of shows, but it was enough that the acrobats never wanted to do the act without her. When the Vagabond Circus threw down stakes in Eugene, Oregon, she was feeling strong enough to start practicing again.
“You’re such a faker,” Zuma said to her as they sat together. “My head still hurts, and my stomach,” she said in a high-pitched squeal, a bad impression of Jasmine.
Finley looked over from his place sitting and chatting beside Jack on the other side of the tent. He was always entertained by Zuma and always having to hide it.
“Right, and why would I be faking being sick?” Jasmine asked, sitting on the mat. “You think I liked b
eing laid up in bed all day? Do you want to even guess how much muscle mass I’ve lost?”
“I can see it on you, Ms. Flabby,” Zuma said, sticking her tongue out. “And I already know you were glued to your laptop, responding to girls from that dating site.”
Jasmine shot her a guilty look. “Well…that’s kind of true.”
“Any luck?”
“Nope,” Jasmine said with a defeated sigh. “Being an awesome gay girl is hard. There’s just no one good enough.”
“Being an awesome straight girl is tough,” Zuma said, leaning across her legs, her body so used to stretching, even while dream traveling.
“Yeah, right,” Jasmine said, stretching her eyes across the tent at the two other acrobats who were casting their eyes over every now and then. “Real tough for you, Zuma.”
“Oh, Jaz,” Zuma said in a whisper. “You know it isn’t like that.”
“Then why does Mr. Fire Eyes always stare at you like that?” she said, indicating Finley.
“I don’t know,” she said in a pleading tone, trying to stop her friend’s questioning.
“Just saying, if I weren’t gay…”
“Yeah, I’ve heard you say this before. You’d rip clothes off,” Zuma said. “But you are gay.”
“Yep, it runs in the family. No getting away from it,” she said flippantly.
“That’s totally not true. Sexuality isn’t genetic. It’s just coincidence that your dads are gay and so are you,” Zuma said, wanting to laugh at her friend. “And you’ve only got one of their blood so there.”
“True,” Jasmine said with a smile. Her fathers, Papa T and Papa Joe, had worked hard to find the right birth mother for the girl. They found a Dream Traveler who agreed to be their surrogate and the procedure was done in a lab using Papa T’s sperm. Jasmine was similar to Zuma in that she came from a good home, but her parents both had demanding jobs in a place more sheltering than the circus, and so she had left them for Vagabond Circus when she was sixteen years old. Now she’d feared she’d outgrown her family and the circus. But if that was true then where would she go?
A scratching noise on the other side of the tent commanded all four of the acrobats’ attention. It was incessant and quite loud. And since it was late and they were all dream traveling the noise especially didn’t make any sense. Finley stood first, wondering what was happening on the back side of the practice tent that would cause such a commotion. He already had a good working knowledge of the things that did and didn’t go on at various times in various places at the circus. And it made no sense to him that someone would have a reason to be over in that area. He soon felt Zuma behind him; her presence was always known to him. With his eyes closed he could sense her nearness to him and then always banished the desires that followed.
“What is that?” he said in a whisper, over his shoulder.
“If you’d get in the telepathic link with me, then we could have already discussed that topic and a whole lot quieter,” Zuma said.
Finley turned and looked at her, halting Zuma, along with Jack and Jasmine behind her. “You’ve already had this conversation with Jack and Jasmine?”
She rolled her eyes and nodded. “Let me in, Finley and you can be in the special club too.”
“No thanks,” he said and turned around, his attention grabbed by the scratching sound again. Or is it sawing? he wondered.
They had already cleared fifteen feet and now they were at the back end of the practice tent where supplies and extra equipment were kept. Only crew members came back that way, and only some of the time, never during practices.
“Are you an ax murderer? Is that why you won’t allow me in your head? Are you afraid I’ll find out where the bodies are buried?” Zuma asked Finley in a whisper, but still loud enough for Jasmine and Jack to hear. The two then stopped and laughed loud enough that the sound paused.
Finley turned and gave them all a punishing look.
“Go find out what that is,” Jack said through a laugh.
“Okay, but I’m coming back with my ax,” Finley said. “Come on, Zuma, you’re checking this out with me. And if it’s something dangerous, I’m using you as a shield.” He grabbed her wrist and hardly had to pull to get her compliance.
Jack and Jasmine continued their laughter, strolling back in the direction of the practice tent.
“I bet, when you’re not off being an ax murderer, you’re a cat burglar,” Zuma said, enjoying teasing Finley more than usual. They hardly gave themselves much one-on-one time to talk and they had limited it to “partner talk” as Zuma called it. But having Jasmine back had changed the dynamics a bit.
“That’s right, I kill and pillage,” Finley said in a hush, scanning the assortment of equipment in front of them and trying to figure out where exactly the noise was coming from.
Zuma took the space right next to him. She was too close for his comfort. Finley didn’t enjoy this cozy acrobat relationship she was moving toward. “Oh, so I bet you’re the one responsible for all those items that have gone missing lately, aren’t you?”
She was only joking, but Finley wasn’t in a joking mood suddenly. He twisted around and stared at her with serious eyes. “That isn’t me. I’d never steal anything from anyone at Vagabond Circus,” he said, his whispered words sharp.
Zuma blinked back at him, taken aback by his sudden turn in demeanor. “Okay…” she said, drawing out the word. “It was a joke. Just a joke.” And then she set off in the opposite direction.
More than anything in this world Finley wanted to reach out for Zuma. Explain everything. Hope that it didn’t change anything. In his mind, she’d confess her love in reward for his confession, but he knew he was growing more delusional if that was even a thought in his head. Instead of explaining anything he used his speed to cut her off. She sucked in a startled breath as she always did when he raced in front of her. “I just meant that it really bothers me that someone has been taking from people at Vagabond Circus. I don’t even want to be associated with it in jest,” he said. And what he didn’t say was it burned him up that he knew who was doing it and couldn’t stop them. They were always a step ahead of him.
Zuma stared up at Finley, startled by how much he’d disclosed when he usually never said anything. But then her attention was stolen away by the warmth on her limbs. She dared to look down and realized he had both his hands on her arms, holding her in place so she couldn’t move away from him. And the last thing she wanted to do was move away from him. But she remembered herself, as she was good at doing.
“Yeah, the thief is a huge mystery. Dave can’t figure out who is doing it or why,” Zuma said, stepping back, away from Finley’s grip.
He dropped his hands. They felt like anchors suddenly. “Strange for sure,” he said, but Zuma spied the essence of a lie. Finley, she could sense, knew more than he was telling, but maybe that was only because he’d been investigating. She had noticed that he was always watching people, always seeming to be finding covert information. When his attention wasn’t nailed on her then it was taking a break to snoop out the people around Vagabond Circus.
Finley’s eyes ran over the space between him and Zuma. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, bringing his eyes up to her. “I shouldn’t always use my speed on you and just now I didn’t mean to touch—”
The sound of scratching cut him off. He shut his mouth at once and listened to the sound of what he thought might be metal on dirt. Now that it was close enough, he recognized the sound. It was reminiscent of his childhood.
Finley brought his finger to his mouth and faced Zuma, who nodded. They both approached the back flap, only used for maintenance. Using his speed, and wanting to scout any danger ahead of Zuma, Finley hurried to the exit. Once there, he peered out and took a giant breath of relief. He’d turned to assure Zuma before she was even five feet away.
“It’s fine,” he said, pointing out the exit.
“Well, what’s causing the ruckus?” she asked.
He waved her over. “Just an ambitious ten-year-old boy,” Finley said, pointing to the side.
Zuma poked her head out and stared in the direction Finley had pointed. Now she realized that at this location in Eugene, this exit backed up right beside where Dave and Titus’s office was set up. Her eyes took a moment to register, but then quite clearly she saw Benjamin clearing dirt out of a hole beside the office tent using a trowel.
“What is he doing?” she questioned Finley at once, who didn’t look at all worried.
“He’s trying to ensure he gets the best job when he comes of age,” he said, proudly.
And just then Benjamin took a submarine-type scope he’d built and put it into the hole. He squinted through it, a clever grin on his face.
“He’s spying on Dave and Titus,” Zuma said, revolted. Her loud voice couldn’t be heard by the boy since he wasn’t dream traveling and was in the physical realm. Dave and Titus, who were discussing various acts, also weren’t dream traveling. Finley knew that Dave didn’t usually dream travel until later in the night, if at all.
“Don’t worry,” Finley said, placing a hand on Zuma’s shoulder and trying to corral her back. “He just wants to know what they want in the best acts. It’s his dream to be in the circus. And look,” he said, indicating the boy lying on his stomach in the dirt. Benjamin had just set down his scope and was jotting down something on a pad.
Zuma stepped closer, realizing now that he couldn’t see or hear her. Over Benjamin’s shoulder she read, “What every Vagabond Circus performer needs to know.”
Finley was already at her side again. “And have a listen into the conversation in there.”
She stopped and listened.
“Oh yes, I agree, Titus,” Dave said, speaking too loudly. “I agree that our best performers study a lot and make good grades. They also floss, they floss all the time, because a winning smile always wows the audience.”
Zuma’s face lit up and then turned to Finley. “Dave knows. They know,” she said in astonishment. “They’re feeding Benjamin information.”
Finley was smiling widely back at her, but it wasn’t from the information they’d just discovered, but because of the look on Zuma’s face. Her face with a pure smile on it had too many effects on him, but more than anything it made him happy. Then at the thought, his face fell slack. At least Zuma could have fleeting moments of happiness, it seemed, if nothing else.
