by Ioana Visan
Oh, boy … What did she want now? Anya only shortened his name when she badly wanted something. “Yes?”
“Do I have to do the butterfly act?” Her voice had turned into a whine.
Ah, that was it. Anya hated the butterfly act, and for good reason. While Nicholas didn’t care one way or the other, saying “no” would make Anya insist on showing her gratitude, and that was not the kind of complication he needed. So far, he’d managed not to form any attachments inside the circus, so he could disappear without leaving anyone heartbroken. Pleasing Anya and letting her thank him in return came too close to changing that. But then again, Anya didn’t offer anyone else that kind of thanks.
“Yes,” he said. “It’s a hit with the crowd everywhere we go. It will be one of the highlights of the show here, as well.”
“Yeah, I bet it will be,” she muttered with a glare. “They’ll all want front seats to watch the horror.”
Nicholas deemed it wise not to comment on that. Anya’s grip on his arm had tightened.
“Everything I do after that loses its value,” she said. “They don’t see me as a human being anymore. All they see is tubes, circuits, and wires. And it’s not fair. These—” Anya pointed at her legs, “—are real. I work hard at it, harder than I would have to otherwise, and no one appreciates it.”
She was right. This was the type of reaction she was getting, and for an artist, it was heartbreaking and demoralizing. Nicholas, who was basically a fraud, wouldn’t have cared. It didn’t mean he didn’t understand her frustration, though. His arm slid around Anya’s slender waist, and he pulled her towards him in a comforting hug.
“Are you sure I can’t change your mind?” Anya played with his necktie. “When can I stop by your car, Mr. Art Director?” she asked with a playful smile. “I’m free every night.”
Now would have been a good answer, but Nicholas held his ground. “Fine, you can do the ballet number first.” He brushed his lips against her temple. Okay, it was shaky ground.
“Really?”
Her eyes shone with happiness. No way could he take the words back now, but he didn’t plan to.
“Yes. They’ll feel cheated when it’s over, but who cares? It’s one show. And we can have an animal number in the first act for comic relief.”
“Thank you.” Anya pressed her lips against his cheek and let them linger there.
When she pulled back and returned his coat with a victorious smile, Nicholas knew he’d been had. She had never planned to drop out of the show. She’d obtained exactly what she wanted. Still, it was nice to see her smile.
“I’ll let you give them the good news,” she said, nodding towards the car they were approaching and patting his shoulder lightly. “Don’t let them grill you too hard!”
Anya winked and sauntered away while Nicholas veered to the left, shaking his head at the thought that, although he was closer to his forties than thirties, he was still sensitive to pretty ballerinas with cute dimples. Well, maybe not just any ballerina …
9
The screech of metal being cut came out through the open door, along with dark clouds of smoke as Nicholas walked up the steps. Bent over a long workbench, Rake and Spinner molded a delicate piece of machinery. Their “factory”, a hybrid between a laboratory and a hardware store, smelled of coagulants.
The fans worked overtime and still couldn’t keep up with the smoke coming out of Rocket Girl’s robo-suit. She paced behind the knife throwers, the helmet preventing her from suffocating. With her face covered, she looked rather scary, hidden inside the two-ton walking bot that towered over everyone else in the car.
“Take a mask.” Spinner gestured at a shelf near the entrance. “Fei Lin busted a few wires while practicing her jumps.”
Nicholas pressed a square filter tissue over his nose and mouth. Fei Lin’s determination to improve her already outstanding act and earn her keep often ended up with some kind of malfunction—solid proof of why the robot had been abandoned. Despite Rake’s and Spinner’s efforts, they managed to only partially salvage it each time.
“How did it go?” Rake asked.
“It went as well as expected.” Nicholas’s voice came out muffled through the mask. The knife throwers didn’t wear any, but he preferred not to risk his health. “The mayor was so impressed with his thirty percent, he forgot to ask for an advanced fee for booking the theater, so we don’t owe anything to Aurore.” The five percent he failed to mention would go straight into his pockets as compensation for his trouble.
“Good, good.” Spinner nodded and set aside the piece he was working on. Fei Lin stopped behind him and peered over his shoulder.
“The downside is,” Nicholas said, careful not to get in her way, “they’ll send tons of agents to snoop around the place, and there’s no way to keep them out.”
“We have nothing to hide,” Spinner said, wiping his forehead with a dirty cloth, and picked up another metal part.
Yeah, right. They made a point of hiding them in plain sight, but there were still secrets.
“If they have agents to spare, we can use them to tighten our security,” Rake said, though it was hard to tell if he was serious. “I’ll make some new masks for them.”
If they agreed to wear them … but the masks also stood for tickets and were mandatory to access the circus grounds. After their yearly visits, the locals knew they couldn’t enter without them.
“Anything else?” Spinner asked.
“The building is old,” Nicholas said, “and while it’s maintained and in good shape, it won’t easily accommodate our acts. Our stage workers will have to work non-stop to have everything ready in time.”
“They will.” Rake didn’t need to say more. They could count on the auxiliary personnel to do their work.
Rocket Girl—Nicholas had trouble thinking of her and using her full name when he couldn’t see her inside that mountain of metal—stopped on the other side of the table with her hands on her hips and watched them, obviously unhappy with the interruption.
“What’s the prognosis for the client?” Nicholas asked. “I saw him outside, and he didn’t look well.”
“He’s not,” Spinner said. “Whoever he pissed off did a good number on him.”
“Any chance you can fix him?”
Both Rake and Spinner stared at him. Anyone else would have winced under those glares.
Nicholas held up his free hand. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m the one who negotiated with Armstrong. That man is a gunner. If we don’t deliver, he’ll come after all of us, guns blazing. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not get shot. Tailcoats are expensive, you know.”
Spinner adjusted the dials on a plasma cutter. “It’s true that he’ll be pissed if we fail. But the arms are busted. It was done by someone who knew what he was doing. The damage was tailored to affect the use of his hands … and cause as much pain as possible.”
“So it can’t be done?” Nicholas asked.
“Don’t underestimate us—”
“Spinner.” Rake gave the smaller knife thrower a pointed look.
“Okay …,” Spinner said, aggravated. “We can control the pain, and we can restore the muscles … to a fashion. It’s the nerves of which we’re not sure. All of the paths we’ve tested are shot. If we need to re-grow everything from the shoulders down, we’ll need a whole month for the client to regain the use of his hands, longer for proper fine motor skills. Obviously, that won’t do. If we can find some paths still working, we might be onto something, but even then, we need to make sure the re-grow speed is fast enough to meet our deadline. We need at least a day to figure that out.”
Robot Girl tapped Skinner on the shoulder and pointed at the digital clock on the wall. She spoke little English besides the gibberish they had identified as a Mongoloid dialect, and she didn’t speak at all while wearing the robo-suit.
“Yes, we need more time.” Spinner nodded with a smile.
She shook her head and pr
obably rolled her eyes inside the helmet. She hadn’t meant time for the patient, but for herself.
“You should also tell him we’ve never done anything like this before,” Rake said. “And we can’t count on Big Dino’s guidance, either.”
“There’s also that.” Spinner let his shoulders drop.
Nicholas took a long look at the arm and hand molds hanging all over the wall.
“So, we’ll know tomorrow if we’re doomed to fail Miss Aurore’s expectations,” he said. If they failed Aurore, Big Dino would be disappointed, too … when he regained consciousness. “Good to know.”
10
After delivering Cole to The Nightingale Circus, Dale hadn’t dared leave the attic. There hadn’t been obvious witnesses at the scene, but someone was bound to notice something, and people talked. It was better not to draw the attention of the police or the lowlifes in the city. But being confined in the attic didn’t work for him, either. Having a contingency plan would have helped, except he had no connections in the city. Betting everything on Cole had been a huge mistake, but he’d had no other option at the time.
Since going over it again and again was bound to give him a headache, he forced himself not to pace along the windowed wall. His steps would be heard from the floor below, worrying Mrs. Potec. She already had given him the evil eye this morning, a sign she was aware of his past night’s activities. Thank God his superiors weren’t. The last note sent to inquire when he would be ready to report back to work had nothing to do with that. But he was due another month of sick leave after the last repairs and upgrades made to his enhancements, so he was good.
With the radio volume turned low, Dale only half-listened to the news. Lacking inhabitants, this wing of the building wasn’t wired for most purposes and, therefore, had no cable. Dale could do without a TV, but the slowness of the clock hands on the wall drove him mad. A quick glance told him it was past three in the afternoon. A couple more hours left until the circus opened its gates. They had told him not to come back and bother them, they would keep him informed of their progress, but he fully intended on going back.
A light flashed in the corner of his eye, and he followed the bright spot moving on the cracked wall before turning to look outside the window in search of its source. Something gleamed on the balcony up the street. He reached for the binoculars and focused on the culprit. A necklace with a big stone hung on the window handle, reflecting every ray of sunshine in the street.
This was an unusual sight in the city, even knowing the window belonged to the biggest jeweler in town. In the two months he’d been there, he had never seen the Golden Lady hang her jewelry out to dry. Someone had placed it there on purpose, making sure the light reflected into his room. A signal of some sort—or so he told himself. He owed Aurore, and he wanted to get a feel for her so he wouldn’t be caught unprepared when she requested her payment.
Dale snatched his jacket and headed out. Although sunny, it was colder than he expected. He started up the street, the cold making him feel alive. He inhaled the fresh air. It was too early for the food stands to cloud it with their blasted smoke. A portly housekeeper argued with a vendor over a knitted basket. Everything felt normal in the world.
Little Rosie held out her hand when Dale passed by her corner, and he dropped a coin in her palm. No use to try and keep a low profile now. The kid reported to Aurore anyway.
He was expected. The guards stationed at the building entrance, without bothering to search him, let him in and signaled him to go upstairs. He found Aurore seated at her desk, a few dozen precious stones spread on a velvet cloth in front of her. The necklace from the window lay discarded in a box on top of a pile of folders. Dale had never seen a crystal so big, but gems weren’t his trade.
“I don’t appreciate being used as your secretary, Mr. Armstrong.” Aurore’s blue-gray eyes shot him an annoyed glance.
Since he didn’t know what this was about, Dale preferred not to say anything. He’d felt less anxious the first time he met her because he had nothing to lose then. He did this time, and the presence of his guns failed to comfort him.
“Nifty things, these.” Aurore wiggled her fingers, and their tips sparkled under the bright light of the desk lamp. “One doesn’t have to wear gloves to handle the stones.” She pushed the magnifying glass away, turned off the extra light, and laced her fingers on the desk. “Do you wear gloves in your line of work, Mr. Armstrong?”
“Not lately,” Dale said, wondering where this was going.
“Neither do I. I find it more productive if you give people things straight up.” She paused and locked her gaze with his. “So, what the hell did you tell them to make them believe they were doing me a favor?”
“I didn’t tell them anything.”
“But you let it be implied …”
It wasn’t a question so Dale grinned. “I might have.”
“Well, then …” Aurore folded the cloth and placed it in a box with complicated engravings on the sides. She left the table and took the box to a safe in the wall opposite the window. Several boxes and books were stored inside, and she added it to the pile. She didn’t lock it. “Since, apparently, we’re business partners in this adventure, it’s time we discuss the terms of our partnership.”
Dale had been expecting this. He’d been in the city long enough to know one didn’t get free favors from the Golden Lady. However, she did have a reputation of being fair.
“Shall we do lunch?” As soon as the words left his lips, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. They weren’t pals. They weren’t even associates. If she did him a favor, she would own his ass until he paid her back. It would be interesting to see what she wanted from him.
“Don’t get cute with me, Mr. Armstrong. I’m not in the mood.” Aurore tilted her head, frowning. “Actually, just so you know, you’ll discover I’m never in the mood.”
“Fine. Stop stalling then,” Dale said. “What did the circus people say?”
Aurore’s lips turned into a straight, thin line, obviously not liking to be interrogated. “They ran into a problem. They didn’t go into details, but I imagine it’s something serious enough to prevent them from meeting the deadline. They want to see you.”
As Dale turned towards the door, she said, “Not so fast. The fair doesn’t open until five, and you’ll want to take a close look at the action, so no need to go before seven.”
“They already gave me a tour,” Dale said, distracted. He hadn’t put much faith in Rake and Spinner fixing Cole, but hearing it out loud was a disappointment because it made things final.
“Yes, but was it open for business?” Aurore arched an eyebrow. “I heard people say the most interesting things happen at the circus when it’s closed, but what I was suggesting was to pay attention to the main attractions. You might get … inspired.” A glint of mischief lit her eyes.
“Okay. I’ll keep that in mind,” Dale said, though he didn’t see how that could be of any help. “May I go now?” A hint of a mocking grin curled up the corners of his lips. Like a dog on a leash, he was testing his boundaries.
“No.” Aurore’s voice went back to being business-like. “Since you’ve been around for a while, and it doesn’t look like you have much else to do with your time, I want you to do something for me. I need a bouncer in a club on Klariska Street. It’s something you should be able to handle. No guns, though. Just basic brawling work.”
“You want me to run your club?” That would be such a waste of his skills, but maybe she wasn’t aware of the full extent of them, though little seemed to escape her.
“I never said it was my club.” Aurore put on a thin smile. “Something fishy is going in there that is affecting my business in the area. I want you to find out what it is. They have an opening since one of their bouncers was hospitalized last night. You’ll get the job. All you have to do is go and ask.”
Dale looked the Golden Lady up and down. She held his gaze, apparently not offended by his inquisitive s
tare. It didn’t sound like a job offer, and she wasn’t asking. She was waiting for him to say “Yes”.
“You don’t need a bouncer, do you?” Dale asked. She wasn’t hard to read, not the part she let him see anyway.
“No.” Aurore stepped back behind the desk and rested her hands on the back of the chair. “But you’re an unknown variable to me, and I don’t like wildcards in my city. So I intend to keep you close until your business here is done. Any thoughts?”
Dale shook his head. He had plenty of thoughts, but nothing he wanted to share. Antagonizing the Golden Lady while Cole wasn’t out of the woods yet was not a smart thing to do.
“The club is called Black & White.” Aurore handed him a plastic business card with his name written on it. “Don’t try to use it anywhere else. It won’t work.”
“I’ll take a look.” Dale slipped the plastic rectangle into his pocket. He didn’t ask for permission when he turned towards the door.
“What drives you, Mr. Armstrong? You didn’t give the stones a second glance, so it’s not money. What is it?”
He wished it was an easy answer, but it had been so long. “I don’t remember.”
11
“Welcome to The Nightingale Circus!” a voice boomed from the speakers. “Clowns, acrobats, gymnasts … We have it all! Wild beasts, as well! But that is not what you came for, is it? You came to listen to the Nightingale sing! So don’t be shy and come inside! The Nightingale is waiting to take flight!”
The oversized poster propped near the gate announced The Nightingale Circus and its main attractions: the Nightingale, covered in sunshine; the Swan with her delicate feathers; and the Firebird bursting into flames. Then came the aerialist team constantly on the move, and the Blade Masters, throwing knives at each other. At the bottom of the poster was the magician in a pale blue light, and the silver flash of the Rocket Girl.
Dale took a look at the poster and handed two coins to the woman standing in the entrance booth, in exchange for what passed as a ticket. The golden foil cut in the shape of a mask was no bigger than his palm, and was obviously not intended to be used as one. When the token exchanged hands, a flashy sign came to life, alerting the visitors to return the masks before leaving. The rumor in town was whoever entered without a pass disappeared, never to be found again.
