by Sarah Noffke
“No.”
“Do you see things which aren’t real?” he asks.
“No.”
“Get flashes?”
“No.”
“Control people with your mind?”
“No,” I say again.
“Have objects moved mysteriously around you?”
“No.”
“You really aren’t much fun at all, are you?” he says.
I squint at him. “I’m loads of fun.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you think so.”
I shake my head at him. I’ve never met someone with his audacity.
“All right, you failed that phase of testing and have graduated to the next loser round,” he says.
“I’m not a loser.”
“No, no, of course you’re not,” he says dismissively. He slips a device the size of the palm of his hand out of his inside jacket pocket. With a switch the device makes a low buzz.
“What’s that?”
“A frequency recorder. It’s science.” He says it like it’s a dirty thing. “And it’s an upgraded model so I’m probably getting all sorts of radiation.”
“Why are you using it then?”
“Well, the daft scientist who gave it to me is probably right that it will make the assessments I have to do a whole lot easier.” He pauses and only stares at me for a few seconds, an intensity in his eyes. “Did you get that message I just sent you?”
“What?” I say, dumbfounded.
“The telepathic message I just sent you. Did you hear it in your head?”
“No.”
Ren slips a gold ring off his finger. It’s clunky. Lays it on the table next to him. “Can you move that with your mind?” he asks, his voice flat.
I stare at it for over a minute. “No.”
He eyes the device and then slides it back into his pocket.
“Did you really think under these stressful circumstances I’m suddenly going to use my hidden gift for a stranger?” I ask.
“I knew for a fact you wouldn’t be able to. I’m studying your approach,” he says, slipping his ring back on. “And in my extremely intelligent opinion there’s no chance your gift is going to surface. What I don’t get is why you appear to have the instinct but there’s no power behind it.”
“What?”
He rolls his eyes. Takes an impatient breath. “Dream Travelers have a certain level of frequency they exude when using their powers, but yours is on par with a Middling.”
“What?” I say again. “That’s bizarre.”
“No, let’s be honest. It’s sad.” He sits forward and looks at me sideways. “Tell me, have you suffered any traumas?”
“No.”
“Depressed?”
“No.”
“Suicidal thoughts?”
“Gods no.”
“Well, I’m momentarily stumped, but if it makes you feel better you’re exactly like all the Defects I’ve assessed. At least you have people to share your woes with,” he says.
“Do you think upping the injections will help?”
“Injections?” he asks, confusion suddenly covering his features.
“The meds they’ve been giving us,” I say.
“Oh yes, I heard about those. Medical science isn’t my forte, thank god,” he says, looking repulsed. “I don’t know if these meds can help, but if I become extremely bored toddling around this place I might look into it.”
“What am I supposed to do until then?”
“I don’t know, you can play hopscotch for all I bloody care. That’s none of my concern,” he says, looking tired. “I’m only supposed to assess you and a few other snots and report if any gifts surface. Right now my job is easy. You’re all appropriately named. Defects.”
I stay seated as he makes for the door. He turns just before he leaves. “So, what’s Em short for?”
My brow knits with momentary confusion. “Nothing. I’m just Em.”
“Really?” he says, an unconvinced tone in his voice. “Your mother’s not the type to name someone ‘just Em.’”
“What does that mean?” I say.
“Bloody hell if I know, but it sure is curious.”
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Sneak Peek of Suspended (Vagabond Circus Series, #1)
Prologue
There are those who come to judge the circus and then there are those who come to experience it. The latter go home satisfied. The former go home full of scrutinizing accusations. Those who experience the circus, taking it in and allowing themselves to be awed, have a richness built into their lives afterwards, almost like they’ve gained an extra day to their existence. Those who observe seem to have lost a day. They’re the ones who tear down sandcastles. They’re the ones who say clouds are just clouds when they are irrefutably in the shape of unicorns.
These skeptics are the people the Vagabond Circus caters to. The circus would shut their doors to the joyful and starry-eyed if their business didn’t keep it running. The Vagabond Circus runs for two reasons and only two reasons: first and foremost to give the lost and lonely Dream Travelers a place to be great. And secondly, to show the nonbelievers that there’s still magic in the world. If they believe then they care and if they care then they don’t destroy. They stop the small abuse that day by day breaks down humanity’s spirit. If the Vagabond Circus makes one person believe then they halt the cycle, just a little bit. They allow a little more love into this world. That’s Dave Raydon’s mission. And that’s why he recruits. That’s why he directs. That’s why he puts on a show that makes people question their beliefs. He wants the world to believe in magic once again.
And yet, what his patrons witness is real. Real people, doing real things. Things that are inconceivable to most, but real nonetheless. That’s because Dave recruits only Dream Travelers. People who can do what most can’t. Unique people. They aren’t magical. But to those who don’t know the difference, they are an inspiration. They appear magical. However, what most believe to be real magic is only the extraordinary which defines the Vagabond Circus completely.
Chapter One
Rain pelted the big top, gliding down the tent and gathering in puddles on the muddy ground. The crew had worked throughout the night to reinforce the oversized tent from the winds and storms. The earth it was bolted to was threatening to melt away, sending the bright green and blue tent into a mound of chaos. The Vagabond Circus had been on the road for three weeks and this was its first night in Seattle.
Tomorrow the city’s residents would have the opportunity to witness a show the people in Vancouver called “unbelievable,” “unreal,” and “more than a trick of smoke and mirrors.” The critics were speechless, as they were every year when the Vagabond Circus came through town. There was little to criticize and more than enough of the show to overwhelm the senses. No one understood half of what they saw at Vagabond Circus, but still they never looked away.
And yet in this year’s show there was something missing. The fifty people who came together to put on the show knew it. Its ringmaster, Dave Raydon, knew it. And the one person who could fill in the missing gap knew it after watching the show in Vancouver. But the audience had no clue there was anything lacking in the Vagabond Circus. They were ecstatic, leaving the big top with smiles that wouldn’t fade for hours. They had seen what they thought were tricks, not realizing everything about this circus was real.
In the shadows a boy stood under an old oak tree, only partially protected from the heavy monsoon. He watched in the dark as performers sprinted to their trailers. They were intent on getting dry and rested before the sun came up, marking a day of three shows. The boy was wet, but didn’t care. He was exhausted from hitchhiking and stealing rides on the train from Vancouver. But he was here. He’d followed Vagabond Circus. And soon he’d be ready for the next part of his plan.
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Epilogue
