by Chloe Adler
Aurelia turns toward me, her nose scrunched up and her lips held tight in a scowl, as though she’s sucking on an entire lemon.
“Great move, man,” Caspian growls in my ear. “Talk about manipulation.”
“I just want to make her happy,” I whisper back.
He snorts. “I bet.”
I turn back to the stage and take another bite of the disgusting dog and swallow without chewing it. Iphi is posed high atop forty feet of flowing, sky-blue fabric. I shove my hot dog in my mouth again to keep myself from wolf-whistling in front of her mother, even if others are doing it. The costume she wears is a form-fitting one-piece, all white except for the gold filigree climbing down her sides and hugging every single gorgeous curve.
She wears white feathers in her hair, which is down and flowing, especially since she’s hanging upside down. Her opening move is a drop, and as she falls, the audience gasps, her mother no exception. But halfway down she stops herself, reaching out her arm and clasping the fabric tightly to her waist. She does a little spin in the air, her body going so fast, and then she rights herself, looks at me and squints. No, she’s not looking at me. Shit, she’s looking directly at Aurelia. But how did she know her mother was here? I curse myself for springing this on her. What if she loses her concentration? What if she hates me? What if she faints, falls off the silks and dies?
But instead she smiles and it’s the kind of smile that lights up her entire face, almost like she’s bathing in a spotlight that’s brighter than the sun. I bite back the urge to raise an arm and shield my eyes just as hers shift to me. Her smile wavers for a moment before gluing itself back in place. Oh shit, is she angry?
Letting go of the fabric bunched at her waist, Iphi makes the full descent. Her body drops like a bright meteor headed straight to earth. Head over foot, in a perfectly straight line, she falls. Gravity yanks her down fast but I have enough time to tear my eyes from her lovely form and peek over at her mother, who can’t look away. Her eyes are as wide as disks and her hand is glued over her mouth.
“Oh my Goddess,” she bites out in a strangled yelp, and her boyfriend, the enigmatic vampire Alistair, puts his arm around her.
Iphi floats to the ground, still attached to the silks, and the audience roars, standing and clapping furiously. I expect her to climb back up, but she exits the stage and the curtains close.
I’ve seen this act before and I know it doesn’t end there. I stand, still holding the half-eaten dog. I should go backstage and see if she’s okay. It must be because I brought her mother. Caspian clasps my wrist and pulls me back down into my seat.
“You’re staying here,” he growls quietly into my ear. “You made this mess.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. I played it wrong and now I don’t know what to do. I’ll have to try and make amends to her after the show. She probably needs to focus on her job right now. I stuff my face to keep the pain at bay.
Alexis steps in front, tosses a Hula-Hoop up in the air, sets it on fire and proceeds to spin it. This is the perfect distraction. I tell myself I’m jumping to conclusions. Maybe they changed the act up again. Iphi did tell me Serlon does that frequently so the same people will keep coming back. I’ve seen the Distant Edge Circus perform several times this summer, and their acts are always a little different. It’s a smart gimmick, and as I look around at the seating, filled to capacity, it’s obvious that it works. They’re amazing performers, talented one and all.
Caspian grasps my forearm and I look down at my empty hand, surprised that I managed to finish the entire hot dog. “That was . . .” He stalls out when Aurelia leans over me and pins him with a glare.
“Incredible,” she finishes and leans back.
My brother and I exchange looks. At first his eyes are slits and then they relax. Our dissension is also our connection. Our feelings for a woman both tear us apart and pull us together.
Alexis retreats after her act and the curtain opens to a pair of tightrope-walking hand balancers. The man stands on the tightrope and his partner hands him a chair, which he places on the wire. For the next ten minutes, on the back of the chair, the couple performs handstands and other death-defying maneuvers I’m sure Rhys could name if he were here. I so wish he were here and I know Caspian does too. Already our family is fractured and I need to do whatever it takes to hold us all together. I have to get Rhys back, help Thorn return to his body, step back from Iphi. My heart spins like Alexis’s Hula-Hoop. Don’t think about that right now, Dom. I refocus on the couple. For their finale, the woman lands in a handstand on the man’s feet while he holds a handstand on the chair.
“You are just fucking kidding me right now, dude,” Caspian whispers in my ear.
I grin over at him and then peek at Aurelia, who is shaking her head with a slight curl at the corners of her lips.
At intermission we stand to stretch our legs.
Aurelia and Alistair leave their seats, presumably looking for the concessions or maybe the bathrooms.
“So what was with the hot dog?” Caspian smirks. “I don’t think I’ve seen you eat one of those since you got on your health-food kick last year.”
“Too true. I needed something to remind me why I don’t eat them.”
He scoffs. “Or maybe if you had my metabolism you could eat them.”
“More like your lack of taste buds.”
“You’re just jealous and your way of dealing with it is to razz the guy with the perfect figure.” He flicks his wrists at his skinny, toned belly.
I snort. “Show off.”
“Well, he’s got it, so he may as well flaunt it.” Burgundy appears next to him.
“Hey, Burg, good to see you but please do not encourage him,” I say.
“But that’s what I do, tiger. Encourage everyone. Plus, you already had the chance to sleep with me. You know how hot I think you are.” She licks her plump lips and proceeds to eat my brother with her eyes.
“And you said no?” Caspian gawks.
“Who are you trying to bed without us now?” Tiyah asks.
Burgundy laughs and turns her head to make out with her lady. Hot, there’s no denying it, and I’m sure most of the men and some of the women in the arena are watching them.
When the vampire pulls away, she turns back to me. “Why don’t you come watch our show later?” Tiyah drops a proprietary hand on Burg’s behind.
“At the V?” I can’t go there. Or maybe I should—to take my mind off her.
“Of course at the V.” Burgundy rests her elbow on Cas’s shoulder and plays with a piece of his hair. “You can look and not touch. Might help you release a little of that pent-up steam you have.”
I roll my eyes at her. “I’m good, thank you.”
“She’s right,” Tiyah says. “If nothing else, it’s a good distraction. Our striptease is like medicine for the forlorn.”
“Huh, hey ladies,” Cas raises his hands, palms out, “Dom isn’t depressed.”
Tiyah turns toward him. “Depressed, lovesick . . .”
“Same thing,” Burgundy finishes for her.
Caspian snorts. “Love? That’s a strong word.”
I turn away from him. “Excuse me, ladies.”
Caspian clips my shoulder.
I pull away from them, turning, and practically smash into Iphi’s mother.
“Dominic,” she says and I look down at her, just barely. Was she always this tall? “I wanted to thank you for bringing me here tonight. I wouldn’t have come on my own. As you know, Iphigenia and I are estranged right now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love her.”
“Of course you love her, darling.” Alistair pecks her cheek. “And she loves you. Isn’t it time to bury the proverbial hatchet?”
Ms. Holt pushes air out of her nose. “You and your clichés.”
“It’s an idiom, darling.”
“A clichéd idiom.” She loops her arm through his, leading him away. “Now it’s time to find the wine.”
As soon as they�
��re out of earshot, Caspian has my arm in a death grip. Burg and her lovers have disappeared—no doubt chased away by Aurelia’s reappearance. “Is that why Iphi chose to spend the last two days with you instead of me? Are you having an affair with my girl?”
“Of course not. I would never do that to you, Cas. Surely you know me better than that.”
He drops into his chair and puts his head in his hands. “I don’t know anything anymore. Last week my girl was in love with me and this week I’m terrified she’s trying to dump me.”
“Look, Cas, I don’t know what’s going on there but I assure you that I would never make a move on Iphigenia without your blessing. And if you never wanted me to, I never would. I’m managing my feelings for her. What’s more important to me is us. I wouldn’t let anything come between our family.” As long as I don’t close my eyes and see her face floating there, as long as I don’t smell her sweet lilac fragrance, as long as I’m constantly vigilant, I can do this.
He glowers at his shoes, then nods. “And her mother? Is that only about making her happy, not about winning her over?”
“Her mother is complicated. There are a bunch of reasons Iphi wants to go back and you know it. There’s Thorn, that’s a big one. There’s making Nolan his own amulet so she can wear hers again.”
Caspian sits back and folds his arms over his chest but he’s not disagreeing.
“We can’t keep her prisoner. If we help reunite them, which is what Iphi wants, she can move forward instead of backward, and the sooner she does what she needs to do, the sooner she’ll come back to us.”
“Us?”
“You.”
His gaze pops up, finally meeting mine again. “Don’t forget man, I’m her boyfriend.”
Ouch. I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “I didn’t realize you’d donned titles. Congratulations. That’s a big step. And what about Rhys?”
“It’s not official.” He slips into his Valley-boy accent. “I mean, it’s not like I need to ask her to go steady. This is the twenty-first century. And Rhys is her boyfriend too, duh.”
I adjust my glasses, pushing them back up the bridge of my nose even though they haven’t fallen. “I know what century it is. Forget it, I didn’t mean to insinuate that she isn’t on board with being your girlfriend.”
“Who’s your girlfriend?” Aurelia’s sharp voice stabs like an ice pick. She and Alistair have returned, plastic glasses of red wine in hand.
“Iphigenia, ma’am.” Caspian stands and proffers a hand.
Aurelia gives an even sharper laugh. “I doubt that.” She looks him up and down. “You’re not her type. And even if you were, my partner’s rakish grandson beat you to it.”
“Uh, oh . . .” Caspian stutters.
“Exactly what I was saying.” Aurelia takes her seat next to me and then puts her hand on my arm. Leaning in conspiratorially, she says, “Now you, young sir, are my daughter’s type.”
My face heats but she doesn’t let go.
“I like you.” Those bicolored eyes glow eerily as the lights in the auditorium dim.
Iphigenia
What the Goddess is my mother doing here? The woman’s emotions called to me while I was twenty feet in the air. Only love could take on a fear for my safety so visceral that it hit me like a firing squad in the midst of my drop. Why does she just show up without telling me first? That’s what threw me off. I have no way to prepare for her onslaught of feelings. Could I make myself an amulet to dampen my gift or cast a spell to keep a bubble around me or something? Maybe having my mother here is just a bad idea altogether but how can I tell her that? I hope no one besides my fellow performers knows I stopped my opening act before it even really began. Serlon rushed over to me but I feigned cramps and told him I’d pop some ibuprofen and be fine by my closing act.
I peek around the side of the curtain again just to make triply sure I’m not seeing things. Her hand is on Dominic’s arm. Could this night get any weirder?
“Is something going on out there?” Serlon grips my elbow, leaning over me to peek around the curtain.
My mother is here.” I pull back and meet his curious gaze.
“Ah. Does that up your game or throw you off it?”
I rub my face but the owner’s hands cover mine, pulling them off gently. “Makeup.”
“Right, sorry.”
“Hey,” he tilts my chin up, “if it’s too stressful for you to perform with her here, we can find another closer.”
No can do. “That’s sweet of you to offer but I’ve got this.”
“Did you really have cramps earlier?”
I shake my head, but instead of getting angry he smiles at me. “If for any reason you don’t feel up to performing, just let me know. We take care of our own here.”
“You really do. That’s why you always have such phenomenal turn-outs, top-rate performers, and an audience that travels over two counties to attend.”
Serlon grins, twirling his mustache in obvious pleasure, then looks past me to the stage beyond. Out onstage, Alexis is performing her third juggling act. This time, she’s juggling chainsaws. “Who are the guys sitting next to your mom? Didn’t they come backstage to see you a few shows back?”
“They’re . . . friends.”
“Oh no they’re not. Jared and Burgundy are friends. Plus, friends don’t make you blush.”
“Whatever.” I spin away from him and make my way to the dressing room. He doesn’t say another word and lets me go in peace. Smart man.
I check my appearance in the dressing-room mirror. Some of my makeup has smeared and I reapply. Removing the feather headdress, I drop onto the yoga mat in the small area I set up for stretching. My next and final set of the night requires more contortion than I’ve done in the past but it’s something I’ve slowly worked more and more into my routine. I’m not nearly as bendy as I wish I were, but with focus and discipline I’m better than I was even a month ago.
I drop into my side splits, raise my arms above my head and close my eyes, trying to center myself. My mother is the last person I expected to be here. At our last interaction, she refused to change Thorn back into a human and slammed the front door in my face. But didn’t I preempt it all by moving out? I understand how badly she didn’t want to lose her last daughter. The woman has gone through so much in her life, it would be surprising if she weren’t bitter. Aurelia lashes out because she doesn’t know how to hug. What would it be like to go through 186 years with minimal physical contact and connection? That would make anyone testy.
I twist my body, moving into my center splits, and then pancake flat down to the floor between my legs. I know what I have to do and I’m the only one who can. It’s my job to put our family back together.
“Meow.”
A kitty? Before I can sit up, it jumps on my back, curls up and starts to purr. “Army?” My mom’s cat is here? I sit up and the cat shifts and jumps off. It walks in front of me, sits and begins to groom itself. Not Armageddon. This cat is smaller and half tabby, half black, even his face. How strange. I’ve never seen anything like him.
“Hey, kitty.” I hold my hand out and he stops grooming to sniff it, then stares me in my eyes, holding my gaze like a well-trained dog. His eyes are like my mother’s, bicolored, heterochromia iridium. One is blue and the other is yellow. He licks my hand and I giggle, delighted. I’m kind of an animal whisperer, which works out since I freaking love them.
Alexis pokes her head into the dressing room. “Up in five. Hey, is that your cat?” She walks over to the kitty and reaches for him, but he hisses, leaping away from her and running out of the room. “Yikes. Did I scare it or did it scare me?”
“Nope, not mine. Just a fan. Cats are weird.” I get up and follow Alexis out of the room.
“Understatement,” she says.
The curtain closes and I help her pull down and unhook my apparatus, which is pulled up to the ceiling during the other performers’ sets. The hand balancers g
rab their chairs and other accoutrement and leave. Alexis steps through the curtain for her final performance, juggling swords.
I strike my pose as she flits through the curtain and throws me a wink. Then it opens. Waiting for the full reveal, I grasp the fabric with one hand and walk around it, slowly twisting it into a corkscrew shape. My music starts and with a flourish, I crouch and jump to mount, using my arm to propel me skyward. Upside down, I hook a leg over the silks and pull myself upright. I proceed to climb hand over fist to the top, letting the fabric flow from my legs. Once I’m high enough up, I part the two pieces of cloth open with my hands. Holding one side in each hand, I invert. My body is as stiff as a board in between the lengths of silk, held up by my arms. I pause for effect and then open my legs into side splits. Twisting my body around, I place one hip down next to my hand and jut the other leg out in stag pose, bending both legs at forty-five degree angles from the knees. Still holding up my entire body weight, I wrap first one and then the other foot and drop down into middle splits. The crowd is rapt as I spin my body upside down, only held in place by the wraps around my ankles. They gasp collectively.
“Meow.”
Oh no, not now, kitty.
I unwrap one ankle and proceed to lace the fabric around my stomach, preparing for a drop.
“Meow.”
I’m facing the ceiling and there he is, padding along one of the support beams at the apex of the tent.
“Oh no, that poor cat is stuck!” someone cries out from the audience.
When I peek at them, their heads are all craned above me. It takes everything I have not to burst out laughing at the show-stealing cat. All right, well, it’s not in my nature to ignore such a thing.
“Here, kitty,” I call out, unwrapping the silk from my midsection. Abandoning my act completely, I climb up the fabric, hand over fist, twisting my feet around a section and pulling myself up. When I get to the top, instead of running down the beam away from me, the cat slinks over to my hand and sniffs me.
“Awwww,” someone calls out, “she’s saving the cat.”
