Broken People

by Ioana Visan

  With her chin propped in her hand, Aurore studied the specifications, but when her gaze glanced back and noticed Dale watching, her lips turned into a thin line. She didn’t want him there. She didn’t need him. She never had. She had only brought him along to protect her future gain. Dale shook his head and followed Renard outside.

  The cold air enveloped them, threatening to freeze their lungs. Dale gave in and adjusted his body temperature. He’d avoided using his enhancements lately, other than running the maintenance routines, but the magician meant business, and Dale wanted to be able to focus.

  Renard raised the collar around his neck and wrapped the coat tighter around his body. His face was paler than usual, but he didn’t stumble while he walked towards the car. “So, now you know…”

  Dale figured he was talking about his actions during the theater incident. “It was quite a display.”

  “I wish it wasn’t needed, but—” Renard shook his head, “—it was either that or let all those people die, so I chose the lesser of two evils.”

  “Do they know?” Dale asked, referring to the circus people.

  “Some of them do. The rest suspect something, but it doesn’t matter. We’re a tight group. We have to be since it’s us against the world.” He paused in his walk and eyed Dale pensively. “But no one else knew until tonight. So you understand my problem.”

  “What about the other members of the audience?” Dale was only delaying the inevitable. The real problem was him.

  “Oh, I’m not worried about them, Mr. Armstrong. The majority were too taken with Riella and her fireworks to notice anything else. And those who did, well … I took care of them. A small jolt sent to the cortex here and there, and they won’t remember the slightest suspicion. It didn’t work on you, though. I tried to enforce it all night and failed. I know when it doesn’t work. You have been trained to resist such manipulation.”

  He didn’t answer. Renard was, of course, right. Dale couldn’t be corrupted. His superiors had made sure of that. However, he was shocked to discover how powerful Renard was. The man was a real magician and, for this conversation, he’d dropped the mask.

  “I can’t force you to keep my secret, and I’m against making people disappear. I just want to be left alone.” Renard rolled the walking stick between his fingers. “The way I see it, we can be of help to each other. So this is what I’m proposing. We hit the Hrad and then part ways. The question is can you keep quiet until the circus leaves town? And will you?” He gazed at Dale with narrowed eyes. “Is what you’re looking for inside the Hrad more important to you than the reward if you turn me in?”

  That was an easy question.

  “It is,” Dale said. “I’m not at liberty to disclose any more details, but it’s of crucial importance to many people. More than you can imagine.” All of them.

  “I see.” Renard nodded. “All right. I’ll give orders for you to be left alone. I’m not convinced an ambush would be successful anyway. Rake suspects you were military, and I’m tempted to agree. He should know. He used to be one.”

  “Well, we all have secrets it seems …” While he refused to discuss his background, Dale had a curiosity. “How did you escape the drafting?”

  “My family had connections. A source informed us about what the government was planning. I took off before the drafting committee was even formed. I’ve been running ever since.” Renard swallowed hard and swayed on his feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and lay down. I had forgotten how exhausting this could be.”

  Having no intention to spend any more time than necessary in Renard’s presence, regardless of how intriguing he found him, Dale gave a short nod and headed back. He ran into Anya on his way to the factory. The ballerina threw him a glare and rushed in the direction Renard had gone, holding onto the light coat covering her bare shoulders. Well, maybe Dale had his share of guilt in what had happened at the theater. He’d come with the request, and they had put on the show to accommodate him. Or something like that. Dale wasn’t sure how that worked, but it seemed to be mandatory for the success of their operation.

  “There is an undercurrent, but nothing else.” Rake’s voice.

  Dale stopped in the doorway to listen.

  “When did you start feeling something unusual?” Rake asked Aurore.

  “Tonight. At the theater. I felt weird the whole time I was there, especially during the show when lighting rushed through my prosthetics several times.”

  Dale winced, remembering the way her body had curled and how hard she’d squeezed his hand.

  “Did it correlate with anything onstage?” Rake’s strong fingers moved along Aurore’s bare arm. Her wrist looked fragile in his hold.

  “It’s hard to say. It was a big shock to have them react like this. They never … umm … hurt before.” Aurore scrunched up her forehead as if in deep thought. “The lights were brighter, I think. Don’t you agree?” She turned to Dale.

  With his presence acknowledged, he stepped farther into the room. “Yes, the lights were brighter when it happened.”

  “But that can’t be the reason, can it?” Aurore asked.

  Rake’s gaze traveled to Spinner and, in the silence that followed, the answer became obvious.

  “Actually, it might …” Spinner scratched the back of his head. Something whined in his shoulder when he raised the arm, and he grimaced. “You see, we have an alternative power source, and we re-routed some of it through the theater’s electrical system during the show. Our acts needed more power than was available, but we didn’t want to leave the city in the dark.”

  “Yes, yes, I know that.” Aurore waved her hand impatiently. “But why would it affect me?”

  “It’s a different power source,” Rake said, “like nothing you’ve ever seen. Your prosthetics weren’t tested against it.”

  “I see …” Aurore looked down at her hands. “I’d better leave then. It’s getting uncomfortable.”

  Rake stepped back to let her fix her clothes. “Mr. Armstrong can give you a ride back into the city. We’ll need … one day?” He checked with Spinner.

  “One day if we work through the night,” Spinner answered.

  “One day to get the transportation ready,” Rake said to Dale. “Then we’ll need you here when we test it. I’m sure you’ll want to supervise the progress, and it will make it easier on the patient, too … assuming he is your friend.”

  “If that’s what I think it is—” Aurore nodded at the eight-legged machine image lingering on the screen, “—he won’t want to have anyone around to stare.”

  “But he’ll be the life of the party!” Spinner said. “We’ll add a disco ball, tinsel, and feathers …”

  By the time he got to feathers, Dale knew Spinner had to be joking. “I’ll be here.” He held up Aurore’s cape. She gave him a surprised look. Apparently, she was used to being obeyed, not helped.

  36

  A small crowd had gathered on the left side of the train, away from the dormant fair. Around Cielo, the dancers shuffled their feet on the frosty ground. It was too early for the sun to give any real warmth. Even the air felt chilly. As if suffering from the cold, Anya leaned against Nicholas’s arm and whispered something to him. Riella glared at them from the end of the line where she stood next to Serioja. The rest of the aerialists were missing as they wouldn’t perform at the Hrad, but the stilt men were there, walking around on their elongated legs, careful to avoid Rocket Girl’s jumps.

  The clowns tossed each other colorful rubber balls, annoying everyone. At some point, Cielo counted two dozen floating in the air. The wall of the car they were facing slid to the side, turning their attention back to their reason for being there. A pink ball brushed against Cielo’s temple.

  “Oops, sorry!” Jacko grinned sheepishly at her.

  Cielo waved a hand, signaling it was nothing. She was more interested in what was happening inside that car, but the darkness prevented her from seeing anything. She wiped her hands
on her sea-colored skirt, realizing how nervous she was. The knife throwers hadn’t let her see the patient in two days, claiming there was nothing she could help with, and while she knew the final outcome, she dreaded it a little. There were good reasons to go through such drastic transformation, and then there were bad reasons. She wasn’t sure which one this was.

  What was so important to make such a risk worth it? Armstrong wouldn’t say, and Cole couldn’t because he was still not speaking. Since he spent so much time under the influence of strong drugs to manage the pain, she had to wonder if his mind was clear enough to understand the situation and whether he was aware of the consequences, if the decision was indeed his. Armstrong seemed to be the one in charge, and each time she glanced at his folded arms and stern face, she struggled not to frown.

  The sound of gears engaging came from inside the car, and then Rake and Spinner emerged. With tools hanging on their belts and a remote in Rake’s hand, they jumped on the ground and positioned themselves on both sides of the opening. Cielo gave a small shake of her head. They surely liked to make an entrance.

  Rake held out the remote and pressed a button. A portion of the car’s floor slid out, bringing something big and menacing with it. Only when the platform lowered to the ground and the sunlight hit it did it become clear what kind of machine with which they were dealing. Made mostly of shiny metal, the elongated machine looked like a boat, if boats ever had eight articulated legs. Cole sat on top of it, his legs trapped inside the body of the machine, his arms covered by regeneration cases. Only his upper body was free, his neck stiff because of the orthopedic collar keeping his head from bouncing around.

  Four of the mechanical appendages moved, slowly bringing the transporter forward into the empty space the crowd left. The remaining four legs were in the air like frozen arms, stiffly moving now and then without a given purpose. The coordination could have been better and the movement smoother, but this required practice, something he couldn’t easily do inside the car. He turned in a full circle, then stopped, facing Armstrong. A small smile twisted his lips, and his eyes twinkled.

  Cielo couldn’t suppress an internal shudder. They had done it. They had made him one with the machine, despite Cole’s inability to use his arms and legs. Her smile was bittersweet when he looked at her, encouraging but, at the same time, sad because of what he had become.

  “Don’t clap all at once, people,” Spinner said.

  A few choked laughs answered him.

  “It looks great, doesn’t it?” Spinner’s smile spread across his face.

  People replied with nods, but also puzzled looks. Cielo saw what the problem was. It lacked the color and excitement a real circus act needed to be successful. This looked like a bare act, and it wouldn’t match the rest of the show. There was also a good chance it would frighten people. This wasn’t supposed to be a horror show.

  Rake slipped the remote in a pocket of his jacket and stepped forward. “Any questions?” His eyes stopped on Armstrong.

  “Can it move faster than this?” Dale asked.

  “It has a speed limit of twenty-five kilometers per hour,” Rake said. That was five times faster than a typical person could walk. “We can increase it, but it isn’t needed, and he needs better control first.”

  Dale nodded. “Autonomy?”

  “Twenty-four hours anywhere within the city limits. An extra battery can be added, but the goal was to keep it light.”

  “Can it dance?” Jacko yelled.

  The body of the machine swayed on its slender legs. The front pair of appendages that didn’t reach the ground rose and imitated a snake. The finger-like appendices at the end opened and closed. The clapping failed as the mechanical hands missed each other by a few centimeters. Cole frowned and tried again.

  People winced as the sharp noise of metal scraping against metal pierced their ears.

  “No, don’t do that.” Spinner shook his head.

  “What else can he do?” someone yelled from the crowd.

  Cielo blinked, concerned.

  “Well, we’ll add some music, lights, a bit of color so it stops looking so freakishly white and surgical,” Spinner said, rolling his eyes.

  Without looking back, Cole raised one metallic arm with only one finger extended. It was the wrong one, but the message got through just fine. He moved again, a little more confident, and circled the simulacra of the arena bordered by the train.

  One of the dancers, whose dress appeared to be covered in icicles, took his metallic hand and twirled under it as he passed by. The clowns whistled. The girl smiled at Cole, did a little curtsy, and returned to her colleagues.

  Nicholas nodded as if designing performances in his head already. Cole needed an act of his own, one that would explain his presence there. “How much can he carry?”

  “Two tons,” Rake said.

  The stilt man on the left extended his legs and took a giant leap over Cole and his machine, landing effortlessly on the other side.

  “Do we know how tall the ceilings are?” Jacko asked. “We could totally do that!”

  “They’re tall enough,” Nicholas said pensively.

  Riella stepped forward and reached for an arm with both hands. The arm became rigid when she hung on it, and she pulled herself up, using it as a trapeze. She spread her legs wide, lifted them over her head, and landed backward with a flip, her red hair flying like a bonfire around her.

  “If you break it, you’ll pay for it,” Nicholas said.

  Riella, of course, paid him no mind but glared when Cole stepped to the side and offered his mechanical hand to Anya.

  The ballerina took it and climbed on the machine, where she walked from one end to the other without fear of losing her balance. Her poses and pliés were perfect, as if she were on the stage and not on a moving, uneven platform. She slid off along one of the smooth, arched legs, a smug grin on her face when Nicholas caught her.

  “I can work with that,” she said when he released her.

  But Cole hadn’t finished his demonstration. He didn’t stop when he came face-to-face with Cielo. He simply pointed at the empty seat behind him and turned so she could get on.

  Cielo hesitated. The crab-like machine didn’t look safe, and she didn’t want to break her other leg, too. But Cole’s set of back arms stretched behind him, turning into safety rails. Laughing, Cielo held onto them and climbed on. The machine moved faster and faster, taking her away from the circus and across the field.

  “Hey, come back here!” Spinner yelled after them.

  When Cole refused to listen, Rake waved at Fei Lin, and she took giant leaps to catch up with the runaways. She did, but she didn’t try to stop them. She accompanied them.

  37

  Still flushed from the ride, Cielo left Cole in Rake’s and Spinner’s trustful hands, and walked away before they could start their scolding. Not that they didn’t have a good reason to be upset. Taking off like that had been an irresponsible thing to do with the machine still in the prototype stage, but it was so much fun.

  She bumped into Dale, and his hands shot out to prevent her from falling. Under his piercing gaze, Cielo’s smile vanished. Annoyance washed over her because she had done nothing wrong. She lifted her chin up.

  “You’re asking too much of him.” The words came out before she could actually think them.

  “And you’re forgetting he works for me,” Dale said. He took his time before stepping back. His tone was reserved and not aggressive, but the warning was there.

  “He’s useless to you if he can’t work.”

  “He’s useless period if he can’t work.”

  The staring contest lasted for several seconds before Dale said, “But your people are supposed to take care of that.”

  “You’re rushing it—”

  “There’s no time.”

  “And if he fails? Will you say it was worth the risk?”

  “It’s only worth it if we succeed,” Dale said.

  That was
cold. So cold. For the first time, Cielo wondered what he wanted so badly from inside the Hrad. She’d never cared before. The circus policy was to fix them and then forget about them. But while the patient was at the circus, he was still under their care. “I won’t let you—”

  An arm slid around her tense shoulders, pulling her back. “Don’t threaten my crew, Mr. Armstrong,” Nicholas said.

  Cielo hadn’t heard him approach.

  “I was only stating a fact.” Dale’s eyes traveled from Cielo to Nicholas and then back to her. “I’ll come back tomorrow,” he said and left the car.

  “I could have handled him.” Cielo glared at Nicholas as she stepped away from him.

  “I know,” he answered with an easy smile. “But he doesn’t have to know that.”

  “He’s killing him. He wants too much, too fast.”

  “Cielo, we don’t kill people.” Nicholas’s fingers brushed against her cheek. “We’ll be there every step of the way. We’ll make sure he’s all right in the end.”

  “It’s not good enough.” Cielo shook her head. “We should call off the deal.”

  Nicholas gave her an odd look, and the corners of his mouth tightened. “Armstrong can expose us all. I’m sorry, but the deal stays on.”

  “Well, you’re not the boss here.” Cielo frowned at him, hands on her hips. She’d go and wake up Big Dino if she had to, but this madness needed to end.

  “Perhaps not,” Nicholas said quietly. “But I do know my contract. Do you know what the first clause is? Protect the Nightingale at all costs. That is what I’m doing. ” He turned and started for the exit, leaving a frustrated Cielo behind.

  38

  “How did it go?” Aurore looked up from the jewelry box she was inspecting when Dale entered her office and plopped himself down on the sofa. The security guards had orders to let him pass, but they missed announcing his arrival. They were obviously slacking.