by Lynde Lakes
To a burst of applause, Tigra appeared outside the main cage. Suddenly handlers were herding the remaining tigers to their escape door. Once they were gone, he dropped down, did a few somersaults, bowed, and gestured toward Tigra who had just reentered the cage. Her flashing eyes and thin lips told him he’d gone too far. She grabbed his hand in a pinching hold, and, together, they bowed. He’d survived his second encounter with a tiger. But if looks could kill, he probably wouldn’t survive his next encounter with Tigra.
****
Tigra paced her caravan fuming about Hugh’s antics and her boss’s call. Coleman loved the performance. Well, she didn’t love it. She glared at Hugh. “What possessed you to change the act? I’m the head of this team. You’re the new-hire assistant. You put us in tremendous danger. Not to mention the trauma you caused my tigers. Your clown costume and monkey antics agitated them big time. Not to mention your bull-riding insanity.” She’d never admit to him that he’d pulled it off like a pro. “Where the hell did you learn to jump and climb like that? And ride a tiger like a bull?” She rushed on without giving him a chance to answer. “Don’t you realize you took a huge risk riding Stripes and hogtying him with that flimsy chain of silk? Damn you. Stripes may never be the same again. For safety’s sake, he might have to be retired. If that happens, I’ll…” She breathed in, trying to calm down. She hated…hated her complete loss of control. On the one hand, she was proud of Hugh. During the whole escapade he had never shown fear. Even when Stripes chased him around the cage. He did flips and climbed the cage bars. And the crowd loved him. Damn him! She wanted the boss to fire him! But Coleman wanted to keep him and incorporate the new act. Sure. Over Hugh’s dead body!
Hugh met her gaze with forthright intensity. “I’m sorry. I got caught up in the crowd mania. The laughter and applause was like a drug. I wanted to do more and more to delight them and keep them laughing. It was insane and I can’t believe now I took such risks. I won’t do it again. I probably couldn’t do it again. But you were great! Thanks for backing me up.”
“Backing you up? Let’s get this straight, Hugh. This is my act and—”
“Wait just a minute.” His voice deepened and his tone took on an edge that surprised her, coming from this soft-spoken man. He stepped close and drilled her with a glare as rigid as granite. “I did what was necessary to avoid ending up like your last assistant. No one was there to save me from mutilation and death but my own wits. Just like there was no one there for Rolo.”
Tigra’s breath caught as if he’d slapped her. How cruel to bring Rolo and her failure to save him into this. With all that was in her, she held back a rush of tears and fought to keep the quiver out of her voice as she said, “Okay. I see your point. But—”
“Dammit, Tigra, if you love your tigers as much as you say, and I know you do, don’t you realize if Stripes had managed to get me down, maul me, and kill me he would’ve had to be put down just like Candy?”
Tigra opened her mouth to speak, but her throat constricted.
“Being your assistant is more dangerous than lying down in front of a herd of trampling elephants. When you saw the trouble with Stripes, since this is your act and if you are the boss of it, why did you allow the backstage handlers to release more tigers into the cage?”
“I didn’t. That wasn’t supposed to happen and all of the crew denied opening the hatch.”
He snickered. “Then, based on what happened to Rolo and what happened today, I’d say I’m the least of your problems, Boss-lady. Or were the slip ups today part of you and Coleman’s plan to keep the thrills coming and the revenues flowing in?”
She stared at him, aghast. “Surely you don’t believe that?”
“At this point, I don’t know what I believe. But to clarify my position, my plan is to stay alive! And that won’t change. And I’ll make on-the-spot judgments when necessary to achieve my goal.”
Tigra felt a wave of nausea. Could Coleman have designed the foul-ups to increase the crowds and revenue? She recalled her condemning conversation with him after Rolo died. “I’ve known Coleman for a long time,” she said more to convince herself than Hugh. “The boss loves the circus too much to allow someone to commit murder for him to increase revenues. But I’ve heard there have been offers to buy the circus. Maybe someone beyond our circle is sabotaging the acts to force the price down.” Tigra sensed a number of divided loyalties and motives might be complicating the issues.
“Good one, Tigra. Blame someone outside your closely-knit, secret-filled Carney-Circus Community.”
She glared at him. “You have a sharp mouth for a guy who is hanging onto his job by a thread.” She started pacing again. “But none of this is getting us anywhere. I see your point, and understand why you did what you did. I don’t know where you got the skills you exhibited, although I’m amazed and grateful. We were unbelievably lucky today. From now on, there can’t be changes made to the act without my say so. I won’t put up with you changing things and risking our lives and the lives of my tigers. And strip out of that costume and get it back to me within the hour. Now get out of my sight before I do fire you!”
He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t know about you circus women. You all seem intent in getting me out of my clothes.”
Tigra threw a pillow at the closing door, pretty sure Bubbles was one of those who’d hit on him. But were there others?
****
After all the Big Top performances were over Tigra headed for the menagerie carrying Hugh’s clown outfit. She joined the circle of tigers in their haven and lay down with them. She stroked their fur lovingly and then stroked the costume. Humming softly, she allowed each tiger to smell the rich, oddly feral scent. After the chaos in tonight’s performance, she needed her Bengal’s to know Hugh was their brother as she was their sister, and he wouldn’t harm them or her. She wanted to avoid any further conflicts between Hugh and her cats. When all the tigers went to sleep, Stripes hugging the costume, she eased away. She needed a run to shake off her human anxieties.
****
Vance Skull Kilman, garbed in his usual black attire, felt the walls of his caravan-trailer closing in on him again. He smiled. Tonight there was nothing to stop him from slipping out into the darkness and fulfilling his lustful desires. He longed to seek out an unsuspecting female and, from her soft neck, suck in the erotic, sweet warm blood…
Chapter Eleven
Hugh sat on caravan thirteen’s pull-down terrace, drinking a pitcher of ice water and watching workers going about their business. Always on call, he had his cell phone handy. He waved at Les Morton, one of the other new roustabouts, as he entered Bubble’s caravan. Les’s face reddened as though he’d been caught with his hand up a skirt. Maybe that was part of his evening’s plan. The wiry bundle of masculine energy used to be a high-wire performer like Skull. But a serious accident had left him with a limp and off balance which ended his career. Les had told him he was now a master painter with plumbing experience. Hugh laughed. Maybe with Les’s injuries he needed a massage. Or maybe the very forward and aggressive Bubbles needed her plumbing unclogged. Hugh chuckled again. Maybe they’d take care of both problems during his visit. Better him than me.
Tigra waved as she jogged toward him in her running sweats. Smiling, he signaled a hello, trying to appear nonchalant. Her graceful lope reminded him of the way one of her tigers might move—one who had been un-caged for the first time—swiftly, liquidly, and with ferocious purpose. As she passed, with slanting and fiery emerald green cat eyes, she sent him a fierce side-long glance.
He figured she was still upset about the chaos of tonight’s performance with the Bengals. He understood, and wanted even more than she did, to avoid any further conflicts between him and her cats. Or her.
The caravan security lights illuminated her reddish blonde hair with streaks of golden highlights. Her locks were mussed as if raked angrily with those long, blood-red dagger fingernails. The sweat on her upper lip revealed a body-hea
t he dare not contemplate without consequences. Her outfit was black, but the white cursive lettering printed on it proclaimed I love pink. He shook his head. Even her clothes were a contradiction.
She had barely left Caravan Row when Skull ran by, also wearing all black. He seemed to be keeping a trailing pace, not gaining, not falling behind as though following her. His cape flowed dramatically behind him like the staring villain in a horror movie. Hugh tried to like everyone, but Skull reminded him of the evil in his past. And the man was standoffish and weirder than most of the other entertainers. What was the guy up to? Hugh hoisted himself to his feet. He had to join the jogging parade to find out—and to keep Tigra safe. He shook his head. Could he survive as Tigra’s protector without losing his heart—or his life?
****
Tigra headed through the ghostly white veil of fog that curled about the edge of the circus grounds, moving swiftly through the soft muted colors of the night toward freedom and, if lucky, discovery. She had a hunch if anyone connected with the circus had stolen the gold arrowhead, they would have stashed it one of the caves. The sooner the thief was uncovered the sooner the police would move on to something else. And if the thief was also the killer, Rolo and Candy’s deaths would be avenged and her secret would once again be safe.
Increasing her pace, she left the road and entered the hilly wilds of Shandon Hills. She inhaled earth, vegetation, and rotting wood. The mountain’s lower foothills were dotted with a camouflage of low concealing brush and according to Hugh, a scattering of rocky caves—a perfect refuge for wolves, tigers, even vampires. Tigra squinted into the shadowy darkness. To ward off her fear of the possible danger waiting in the caves, she forced everything from her mind but her goal: find the golden arrowhead.
She hadn’t gone far, when, with her tiger-sharp hearing, she heard a twig snap behind her and then the crackle of underbrush. Her already pounding heart quickened its pace and her nerves grew tauter by the second. Instinct and the knowledge a thief and a serial killer was operating in the area alerted her and she moved deeper into the shadows. Fear fluttered in her gut and goose bumps rose on her arms. Even the moaning wind wailed a bleak warning. Fog floated in vaporous layers about the tree trunks. Ahead were two huge granite boulders and beyond that a series of caves. She should have brought one of the tigers with her. Should she morph into a tiger now? She’d learned to shift back and forth at will. But occasionally the shift failed.
Edging forward more slowly now, she listened to the haunting gusts and moaning lament. She sensed the foggy darkness was alive with danger and she had the heart-thumping feeling a supernatural creature was nearby. She raked her fingers through her wild mane. She sniffed the air and caught the scent of mustiness. Her flame hair, even in the night’s foggy haze probably caught enough light to make her too visible.
She spied a cluster of moon poppies. She’d read on the Internet during her research on werewolves that devouring the moon poppy, which bloomed only in the night, could possibly ward off or prevent the cursed transformation for the night. But would it work for a tiger caught in the world of duality? Right now she didn’t want to test the theory. If she needed to morph, she didn’t want anything blocking it.
****
As Vance Skull followed Tigra, he spied a group of six young women ahead. He grinned. They were the circus groupies who had no doubt tired of wrapping themselves in the lure of the circus performers for tonight. He grinned. Nearly always there was one among them looking for a wild experience. Suddenly, the perky blonde waved goodbye and veered away from her five companions. He’d seen her laughing and having a good time with them in the arcade earlier. He’d always liked blondes and this one was a younger, thinner version of Marilyn Monroe. Her manner was flirty, sexy, and hot as they come. There was a vitality about her that burned as brightly as his passion.
She headed west along the road bordering the hills. Not one to pass up good fortune when presented to him, he changed focus and made a westward detour.
Her youthful, perfumed female scent floated back to him. He inhaled deeply. As he
widened his steps, the scent grew stronger. It was just as he always imagined and many times experienced: a lovely creature sauntering home from the circus, slipping through the shadows, unaware, vulnerable….
With his intensified vampire hearing, he heard her soft humming. Was the little nymph bolstering her courage to wander the night at the edge of the hills alone? Don’t fear your fate. I’ll take care of everything, my lovely, and I promise the pleasure before the pain will be worth your submission.
He caught up with her. A moment of fear glinted in her eyes.
“Don’t be afraid, beautiful. Remember me? I’m one of the Big Top entertainers, Lorenzo Cantrell, High-Wire King. My friends call me Vance or Skully. Did you enjoy my performance?”
Her body posture relaxed, as though in submission, and she twisted about like an excited puppy. “It was awesome.”
He smiled his trademark easy grin with a slight up curve of the lips he seldom backed up with any real emotion. “A lovely young woman like you shouldn’t be out alone at night. May I walk you home?”
Excitement flickered in her eyes. “Sure. Thanks. Without moonlight, it is a bit spooky.”
He nodded toward the dim, blinking street lamp. “It would help if the electric service crew would take care of that. None of the lamps along this street seem to be operating properly.” He smiled. And I like it that way.
“You have a nice smile, Vance.”
“Thanks. But wow, look at yours. Are you a model?”
She laughed. “No. I’m a student at SBVC, working on my associates of arts.”
“Oh, a college girl. You must be quite bright. I barely got through high school.” It wasn’t the truth, but she didn’t want the truth. She wanted adventure, excitement, and seduction. He put his arm lightly around her shoulders, noting her fair, slender neck. “Would you like it if I left six free tickets at the entrance tomorrow night? I’d like to see you again.”
“Oh wow, that would be double awesome.”
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.
She giggled. “Your hands and breath are so icy.”
“It’s a cool night.” But things will warm up soon, my sweet, innocent playmate. Raw, naked desire pulsed in his penis. He looked down at her with his hypnotic gaze and drew her into the shadows of a huge evergreen tree. “You have enticing pouty lips. Has anyone ever told you that?”
Her eyes glinted and she shook her head, allowing her blonde hair to caress the lines of her enticing neck.
“May I steal just one kiss before I leave you safely at your door?”
She nodded, almost shyly.
He decided to make her wait for it. He stared into her eyes and created the needed telepathic bond. He deepened his probe, using his mesmerizing power of hypnotism to go into the very soul of the poor, helpless young creature. His mind, his brain and hers locked in psychedelic euphoria. Then he put everything he had into the kiss and she molded into his body. He drew her down to the grassy hillside parkway with him and gave her what she’d been enthralled and awestruck into allowing. He sucked on the tender skin of her neck and together they soared to a wild and heightened erotic state where their brains produced their own hallucinogens. Then he placed his hand over her mouth to silence the screams he knew would come, and bit down on her neck, sinking his fangs into her juggler. Her scream came out muffled against the relentless pressure of his hand. He suctioned the blood and gore into his mouth as he rode her into a glorious solitary climax. He checked for a pulse, knowing there would be none. He cleaned his mouth and teeth with an untraceable and undetectable solution. Next, with his special acid pen he cleaned away all traces of DNA and then ran into the darkness, discarding her to an eternal sleep.
****
Morphed into her feral form Tigra ran free through the dark shadowy night, enjoying the sounds of crickets and other night creatures. Suddenly, she splay
ed her ears sideways, like outstretched bat wings, listening. Alerted by her enhanced tiger-sharp hearing, she stopped dead still. Was that a muffled scream she’d heard? After a moment, she decided it must have been the cry of the moaning wind. Another gust whistled through the trees. A falling leaf brushed her face, like the eerie touch of evil. Her pulse pounded erratically.
Skittish now, she turned and searched the brush and thick, shifting shadows behind her. The movement must have been rippling branches. She inhaled a strong, overpowering scent of wolf. She raked her fingers through her wild mane. Were there wolves in these hills?
Something flashed in her peripheral vision. Her animal eyes picked out distorted shapes. A sinking feeling slithered through her. She melted deeper into the shadows and ran, crouched low, through the brush, silent as the night pressing down on her. She could scarcely breathe. With a gripping sense of rising panic, she circled back toward the circus.
She couldn’t remain in her tiger form. When she returned to where she’d hidden her clothes, she scanned the perimeter: both sides, ahead, and behind. Satisfied she was alone, she began the morphing process.
Concentrating, she willed herself to morph back to her human-form. Shifting in and out
of her dual transitions so quickly required tremendous physical stamina. And sometimes the quick turn-around weakened her. She hoped that wouldn’t be the case this time. Before she was completely shifted, she heard twigs snapping and leaves crunching. Oh, no, there was someone or something coming toward her at a ground-eating clip and it was too late to stop the process.
