by Sarah Noffke
So it’s clear ahead? That’s a good thing, right? Zuma said.
Maybe. I just don’t like it. Something is different and that can only mean something is wrong, Finley said.
Not necessarily. Maybe Knight moved the kids for a simple, non-troublesome reason, she said, wanting to make Finley feel better. The strange, confused look in his eyes hurt Zuma.
He shrugged. True. The kids could be next door.
Has that ever happened? she asked.
A memory flicked to Finley’s mind and with it, it brought a look of relief. Yeah, a time or two we’ve been moved in large groups for vaccines and medical checkups.
You got checkups and vaccines? Zuma asked, the idea confounding her brain. Why would Knight torture kids and then take care of them? she wondered to herself.
Of course we did, he said. Sick kids can’t steal.
True, she said. There were so many more questions pouring through her brain, but she knew this wasn’t the place for it. They needed to act while they had the chance. And Finley had seemed to relax once a logical reason for the kids’ absence had been presented.
However, what Finley didn’t divulge in his information was that Knight didn’t supervise these trips to the adjoining warehouse, and that meant he’d probably be in his chamber. Power-Stopper and Sebastian must be chaperoning the kids, Finley reasoned. That’s why, on this rare occasion, there were no guards in the hallway. If Finley’s assumption was correct then Knight was all alone and sitting on his throne in his chamber, just down the long corridor.
The dim light in the hallway was insufficient for what Finley needed, but it was all he had. He took this moment to study Zuma, to memorize her features in the dark corridor. He couldn’t allow her to see the heartbreak going on in him or she’d grow suspicious. But still he had to say his final silent goodbye to her. One day, if he was ever freed from Knight again, he would return to her, but he knew that was unlikely. Knight would keep a tighter grip on him now.
Finley said an inaudible farewell to Zuma, not in his head, but rather in his heart.
Okay, let’s go, he said, tugging on her hand.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Something wasn’t right about Finley all of a sudden, Zuma thought as she stalked behind him. She didn’t like the way he had looked at her when he’d returned from scouting. It was one of those looks of regret, of quiet reluctance. However, being back in the place he’d worked hard to escape could be the reason for the stress.
At the end of the corridor Finley cast a narrowed glance to the right.
Is that the way we’re going? Zuma asked.
No, he said in her mind. That’s the direction to Knight’s chamber. No matter what, stay away from that area. There was a new conviction in his words.
She narrowed her eyes at his back. Why would he say that? Wouldn’t Finley be with her at all times? Zuma then turned her gaze in the direction of Knight’s chamber. All she could make out was a long hallway with a door. If she was Dave and had his night vision then she would have been able to see details. However, Zuma still turned away with a lackluster feeling from the space that was supposed to house a dangerous man.
This way, Finley said, tugging her to the left. Suddenly he moved with a renewed confidence, one he hadn’t had since he entered the compound. At the end of the hallway he paused.
Jack is in there, he said when they stopped in front of a rusty door locked with only a simple bolt. Still it could only be opened from the outside, trapping the person behind the door.
Zuma stepped forward, her being vibrating with adrenaline. They were so close. They were alive. And they were about to rescue Jack. Okay, well let’s get him out, she said in his mind, her words a rush.
Finley reached out and stopped her, his hand clapping down on her arm. His eyes were as cold as the metal walls surrounding them.
What is it? Zuma said, suddenly worried. Will there be a trap in there? she asked.
I don’t think so, Finley said.
Then why the hesitation? Zuma said silently. The stare Finley was giving her suddenly scared the girl. Something about him frightened her, like once again she wasn’t sure if she could trust him. He had shifted, but only enough for someone with her powers to recognize. What’s going on, Finley? she said.
I need you to go in there alone, he said over the telepathic link.
What? Why? Are you guarding the door? Zuma asked.
No, he said, knowing he couldn’t lie to her, but he also didn’t want to elaborate. If she knew the truth she’d stop him. Finley knew that. And he had already worked up the nerve and had to follow through. This is important, Zuma, he said, his eyes on hers and his mouth unmoving. After you get Jack out of there, take him straight for the exit. It’s two hallways away from where we entered.
What? Zuma said, her eyes wide with shock. Where are you going?
Don’t worry about that. Just go straight to the car and leave after you get Jack, Finley said. Don’t wait for me.
You’re leaving me? Zuma said so loud in his mind, the words almost hurt his ears.
Yes, he said, wincing from the vibration of her frantic thoughts.
You can’t do that, she said, reaching out for him, but he withdrew too fast. Then he held his hands up to stop her.
You promised to listen to me when in Knight’s compound, remember? What I tell you in here is the law, Finley said in her head.
She studied him for a long moment, unable to compute this turn of events. Finally she gave a reluctant nod. But tell me what you’re doing. Where are you going? she asked.
He didn’t answer but instead turned to the wall at the dead end, his back toward Zuma.
“Finley!” she said out loud, her voice vibrating off the walls around her. He didn’t respond, because right then he had already disappeared. Finley had teleported away.
Chapter Fifty
Finley had left her. Zuma couldn’t believe it. She was now trembling with anxiety. Why would he leave when they were so close to rescuing Jack? Where had he gone? He sounded like he didn’t expect to return, but how could that be the case? Zuma failed to understand anything that had just happened. And she was most confused by why Finley abandoned her after the moment they shared full of such tenderness. He loved her. She knew that with certainty. But he’d left her…
With a shaking hand, she pulled back the rusted bolt. It hesitated several times, catching as it slid back. The door croaked when released. The smell of something sour and bitter ripped from the space like it was trying to find freedom after being held captive. A squeal echoed when she pulled the heavy metal door back. Zuma paused, searching the corridor behind her, certain the loud noise had traveled through the warehouse and would soon alert someone of her presence. But she had just screamed aloud as well. If there was someone to hear her in the corridor then they had and they were on their way. Nothing stirred in the hallway; the same black just hung in the long space, masking it from full view. Zuma turned back to the door and dared to pull it all the way open, the groan of its hinges growing louder as she did. Then bright light arrested her eyes, which had been adjusted to the dark interior of the compound. Sunlight streamed through the skylight overhead and illuminated the contents of the small concrete and metal room. Zuma sucked in the scream trying to escape her lungs as she covered her mouth from shock and the putrid smell.
Chapter Fifty-One
Finley planned to surprise Knight. He was certain this strategy would only help his case, which he had been turning over and over in his mind all morning. That had been one of the main reasons he’d been so adamant that Zuma stay corralled to only the thoughts he offered.
When Finley snuck up on Knight, the man would be furious at him. He’d try to punish Finley by getting in his head. That’s when Finley would unveil his secret: that Knight’s ability to create excruciating pain in others’ heads didn’t work on Finley. This new knowledge would give Knight pause, since it would be a first. That’s when Finley would seize his chance a
nd make his case to Knight. He’d threaten to escape if he didn’t do what he demanded. He’d broken out of Knight’s brainwashing and it no longer worked on him. He didn’t care if he was cursed by the man. And Finley knew how to dream travel and already had proven he could escape. The only way Finley would stay as one of Knight’s Kids was with Power-Stopper hovering beside him at all times or by sheer will. Knight couldn’t afford to lose Power-Stopper full-time. The man would have to lift the curse from Zuma. That would be the deal. If he lifted the curse then Finley would promise to serve Knight for as long as necessary. This will work, Finley thought as he teleported into Knight’s personal chambers.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Oh God, Jack, Zuma whispered in his mind.
She raced forward, not knowing how to make her final approach to him. Was he dead? Passed out? Zuma could hardly tell. Her friend lay on the stained concrete floor, his face red and sunburned from the sunrays spraying down through the skylight. Jack’s lips were blistered and his eyes swollen shut. And the part of him she could barely force herself to look at was his legs. They were mangled in different directions. Bloody bones protruded from one of his jean pant legs. Everything about the acrobat was an unnatural arrangement. The way he lay. The way his legs were stretched beside him. And the mess under him.
Trembling, Zuma crouched down, her hand covering her nose and mouth, shielding it from flies and the smell of rot. Zuma steadied her hand with a firm determination and pressed two fingers to Jack’s neck.
For a long beat there was nothing, just the feel of clammy skin under her fingers. She pressed the tip of her fingers into his neck more, firmer. Again she felt nothing. And then it came. Bump bump. A long pause followed by another bump bump. The rhythm of his pulse was sluggish and weak. Nonetheless Jack was alive, but only barely.
“Jack, can you hear me?” she said out loud, her voice echoing off the walls.
He didn’t stir, only lay with his head angled at the sun overhead.
Zuma looked around. The room was bare, just like the other one she’d seen. Drains and chains lined one wall. That was it.
When her eyes returned to Jack she felt almost crippled by grief. He was broken in so many ways and it tore at her insides to look at him like this. How much he must have suffered over the many hours. And she needed to get him out. Get him help. But she didn’t know how. Finley left her and now Jack was passed out and badly injured. If she had Jasmine’s super strength then she’d be able to carry him to safety. But Zuma couldn’t lift him from the ground where he lay, let along carry him out of there.
She reached for the phone in her pocket, only to find that as Finley had warned, it had zero reception inside Knight’s compound. “Damn it,” she said in a whisper.
Again she stared down at her friend, wondering how she’d come all this way only to fail him. And then she caught the tiniest of movements under Jack’s eyelids.
Zuma, he said in her head. His eyes still closed. His voice faint.
Her heart unleashed a series of wild beats. “Yes, Jack,” she said out loud, crouching down next to him and taking his bloody hand in hers. “I’m here,” she said, her voice echoing out of her aching throat with a moan.
Help me, he said in her mind. His two words were hugged by a frantic terror that coated her heart in agony.
She dropped her head and pressed back the tears. I’m trying, she said in his mind. Just hold on, Jack, please.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Blackness greeted Finley’s eyes when he teleported into Knight’s chamber. He knew Zuma was on the other side of the wall rescuing Jack. She was so close and also forever far away. The look of horror mixed with disbelief on her face when he said he was leaving her was still burned into his vision. He couldn’t dwell anymore on how he’d hurt Zuma, though, not when he needed to focus on saving her.
Finley stood frozen, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the black. He knew from spying on Knight during dream travel that the man often sat on his throne in darkness. It was on the far side of the room. Most times Knight appeared to Finley to be pondering new ways to maintain control of his kids. Now it confounded the acrobat that talented children allowed themselves to be imprisoned when they could escape if strategic. But that was the power Knight had over his kids. He was their father. Their earliest memory. The one who gave them life and often took it. Children can defy their parents if they want, but usually they don’t.
And although Knight’s mind control didn’t work on Finley he always knew he could easily be cursed. It had been the only power the man had over him for the last year. He’d watched countless times as Knight deposited the authority into his words followed by a look full of intention. Knight had mastered the art of lacing the right ingredients together to create what people saw as curses. It was complicated. A deliberate focus was clearly the main element. And Finley knew Knight had to be in the presence of the person he was cursing or he had to be in the location the curse was tied to. And each time after Knight uttered a curse Finley had watched as a healthy child was stripped of their gifts, their health, or their mental faculties. And that was their punishment all because they went against Knight. Too many times he’d seen this happen. But now Finley didn’t care if he was cursed by Knight. He’d lose his powers if he could save Zuma. And still Finley was taking the gamble that he was too valuable a thief for Knight to curse. The man cursed those who defied him, but not those who were great assets.
What Finley didn’t know about curses was what they cost the caster. It was a universal law that couldn’t be negotiated or flexed. Nothing in this world was free even in the magical realm. Everything cost something and not only that, but the power a curse stole had to go somewhere. And although the power to curse a person stole Knight of his very life force, the man didn’t care. Knight knew what his curses cost him, although he was unaware where the health and gifts he took went. And for Knight his life force was a currency worth paying to get what he wanted: complete compliance.
The room around Finley took shape as his eyes adjusted to the almost black. He took cautious steps around the furniture he could barely see outlined in his vision. Then his eyes swiveled to Knight’s throne. His heart sank. Charles Knight was gone. His throne was empty.
Chapter Fifty-Four
A solid hour passed where Titus sat in the front row of the big top listening to nothing but the sound of his own breathing. How had he expected anyone would show up to audition for the role of ringmaster? No one in their right mind would try to fill those shoes. Dave was the perfect ringmaster. Not one person could compare to his charisma or the ability he had to prime the audience for the unbelievable show that Vagabond Circus delivered. To take that job would be a curse because that person would never be as good as their predecessor and always compared to something unobtainable.
And that left Titus in an impossible situation. He had to have a master of ceremonies. There was no way Vagabond Circus could survive without one. And yet he had zero idea how to find one if no one was willing to audition. Titus could go out and recruit from the streets but that would take time. Time the creative director didn’t have with the next show advertised to start in two days. They couldn’t delay any longer than that. He already had to cancel three days of shows without giving an excuse. Since Vagabond Circus had an extraordinary reputation and had never canceled a show before, it had gone over without complaint. However, Titus knew he couldn’t stall any longer than he had. The show had to go on. And the creative director hadn’t yet made a public announcement about the ringmaster’s death. Titus was certain that when people found out that news, venues would cancel shows fast enough to put the circus in bankruptcy overnight. Maybe the public didn’t need to know the ringmaster was dead.
Titus threw his head into his hands. He had to come up with something or the circus was doomed.
From the side entrance he heard the sound of the vinyl flap of the tent being moved. He kept his eyes down, unsure if he could stomach watching a poor auditi
on and then having to inform the person they weren’t right for the position.
A flash triggered his attention. It was a small flash but one he was acquainted with. He couldn’t understand why it would be happening then though. Titus looked up and his breath tied a knot in his throat. The impossible was erected before him. In his teal blue suit and neon bowtie stood Dr. Dave Raydon. He smiled, his bushy mustache twitching like it did when he adorned a wide grin. It tightened the creative director’s chest. How much he missed that smile, and those honest eyes. He never thought he’d see the image before him again.
The ringmaster lifted a white gloved hand and pulled the teal blue top hat off his head. “Welcome to Vagabond Circus,” he said in a voice Titus had sorely yearned to hear.
Titus smashed his top and bottom molars together. Flared his nostrils. Held back the grief waiting to vent from his chest. “Stop it, Oliver,” the creative director said.
Dave’s image flickered before Titus like a bulb that was about to go out. For a second he was transparent.
“Stop it, Oliver!” Titus repeated.
And instantly the illusion of the deceased ringmaster disappeared. Titus shook his head before Oliver turned for the entrance.
The boy with one brown and one green eye stood in the entrance of the big top staring at him, a look of defeated remorse on his face.
“I just thought…” Oliver said and trailed away, his voice sounding hoarser than usual.
“I know what you thought,” Titus said, pushing to a standing position and trying to shake the well-crafted projection out of his head. He strode in the illusionist’s direction, stopping when he was a few feet away. “It was a thoughtful idea, but there’s multiple reasons it won’t work,” Titus said, trying to make his voice sound logical, rather than weakened by the vision still spinning in his head.
