Vagabond Circus Series

by Sarah Noffke

  “Do you not think it’s possible for a single man to command people through something mysterious like magic?” And when she looked at him, Finley knew she saw more of him than anyone else. Fanny, he was certain, knew where he came from. But the fact that she wasn’t turning him in was the biggest mystery.

  “Yes,” he said with a deliberate nod. “I know that can happen.”

  She gave a nod of approval. So many things were being communicated between them now and so much still left unsaid.

  “What was this curse this man put on the circus?” Finley asked, hardly hearing his own voice over the racing pulse in his head.

  “He cursed that any child born here could never find true happiness,” Fanny said, her words a curse to Finley’s ears.

  He clenched his eyes shut from the assault to his head and heart. Not only did he believe every word Fanny said, but he knew this man she spoke of and knew his curses were unstoppable.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Jasmine only missed one week of shows, but it was enough that the acrobats never wanted to do the act without her. When the Vagabond Circus threw down stakes in Eugene, Oregon, she was feeling strong enough to start practicing again.

  “You’re such a faker,” Zuma said to her as they sat together. “My head still hurts, and my stomach,” she said in a high-pitched squeal, a bad impression of Jasmine.

  Finley looked over from his place sitting and chatting beside Jack on the other side of the tent. He was always entertained by Zuma and always having to hide it.

  “Right, and why would I be faking being sick?” Jasmine asked, sitting on the mat. “You think I liked being laid up in bed all day? Do you want to even guess how much muscle mass I’ve lost?”

  “I can see it on you, Ms. Flabby,” Zuma said, sticking her tongue out. “And I already know you were glued to your laptop, responding to girls from that dating site.”

  Jasmine shot her a guilty look. “Well…that’s kind of true.”

  “Any luck?”

  “Nope,” Jasmine said with a defeated sigh. “Being an awesome gay girl is hard. There’s just no one good enough.”

  “Being an awesome straight girl is tough,” Zuma said, leaning across her legs, her body so used to stretching, even while dream traveling.

  “Yeah, right,” Jasmine said, stretching her eyes across the tent at the two other acrobats who were casting their eyes over every now and then. “Real tough for you, Zuma.”

  “Oh, Jaz,” Zuma said in a whisper. “You know it isn’t like that.”

  “Then why does Mr. Fire Eyes always stare at you like that?” she said, indicating Finley.

  “I don’t know,” she said in a pleading tone, trying to stop her friend’s questioning.

  “Just saying, if I weren’t gay…”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard you say this before. You’d rip clothes off,” Zuma said. “But you are gay.”

  “Yep, it runs in the family. No getting away from it,” she said flippantly.

  “That’s totally not true. Sexuality isn’t genetic. It’s just coincidence that your dads are gay and so are you,” Zuma said, wanting to laugh at her friend. “And you’ve only got one of their blood so there.”

  “True,” Jasmine said with a smile. Her fathers, Papa T and Papa Joe, had worked hard to find the right birth mother for the girl. They found a Dream Traveler who agreed to be their surrogate and the procedure was done in a lab using Papa T’s sperm. Jasmine was similar to Zuma in that she came from a good home, but her parents both had demanding jobs in a place more sheltering than the circus, and so she had left them for Vagabond Circus when she was sixteen years old. Now she’d feared she’d outgrown her family and the circus. But if that was true then where would she go?

  A scratching noise on the other side of the tent commanded all four of the acrobats’ attention. It was incessant and quite loud. And since it was late and they were all dream traveling the noise especially didn’t make any sense. Finley stood first, wondering what was happening on the back side of the practice tent that would cause such a commotion. He already had a good working knowledge of the things that did and didn’t go on at various times in various places at the circus. And it made no sense to him that someone would have a reason to be over in that area. He soon felt Zuma behind him; her presence was always known to him. With his eyes closed he could sense her nearness to him and then always banished the desires that followed.

  “What is that?” he said in a whisper, over his shoulder.

  “If you’d get in the telepathic link with me, then we could have already discussed that topic and a whole lot quieter,” Zuma said.

  Finley turned and looked at her, halting Zuma, along with Jack and Jasmine behind her. “You’ve already had this conversation with Jack and Jasmine?”

  She rolled her eyes and nodded. “Let me in, Finley and you can be in the special club too.”

  “No thanks,” he said and turned around, his attention grabbed by the scratching sound again. Or is it sawing? he wondered.

  They had already cleared fifteen feet and now they were at the back end of the practice tent where supplies and extra equipment were kept. Only crew members came back that way, and only some of the time, never during practices.

  “Are you an ax murderer? Is that why you won’t allow me in your head? Are you afraid I’ll find out where the bodies are buried?” Zuma asked Finley in a whisper, but still loud enough for Jasmine and Jack to hear. The two then stopped and laughed loud enough that the sound paused.

  Finley turned and gave them all a punishing look.

  “Go find out what that is,” Jack said through a laugh.

  “Okay, but I’m coming back with my ax,” Finley said. “Come on, Zuma, you’re checking this out with me. And if it’s something dangerous, I’m using you as a shield.” He grabbed her wrist and hardly had to pull to get her compliance.

  Jack and Jasmine continued their laughter, strolling back in the direction of the practice tent.

  “I bet, when you’re not off being an ax murderer, you’re a cat burglar,” Zuma said, enjoying teasing Finley more than usual. They hardly gave themselves much one-on-one time to talk and they had limited it to “partner talk” as Zuma called it. But having Jasmine back had changed the dynamics a bit.

  “That’s right, I kill and pillage,” Finley said in a hush, scanning the assortment of equipment in front of them and trying to figure out where exactly the noise was coming from.

  Zuma took the space right next to him. She was too close for his comfort. Finley didn’t enjoy this cozy acrobat relationship she was moving toward. “Oh, so I bet you’re the one responsible for all those items that have gone missing lately, aren’t you?”

  She was only joking, but Finley wasn’t in a joking mood suddenly. He twisted around and stared at her with serious eyes. “That isn’t me. I’d never steal anything from anyone at Vagabond Circus,” he said, his whispered words sharp.

  Zuma blinked back at him, taken aback by his sudden turn in demeanor. “Okay…” she said, drawing out the word. “It was a joke. Just a joke.” And then she set off in the opposite direction.

  More than anything in this world Finley wanted to reach out for Zuma. Explain everything. Hope that it didn’t change anything. In his mind, she’d confess her love in reward for his confession, but he knew he was growing more delusional if that was even a thought in his head. Instead of explaining anything he used his speed to cut her off. She sucked in a startled breath as she always did when he raced in front of her. “I just meant that it really bothers me that someone has been taking from people at Vagabond Circus. I don’t even want to be associated with it in jest,” he said. And what he didn’t say was it burned him up that he knew who was doing it and couldn’t stop them. They were always a step ahead of him.

  Zuma stared up at Finley, startled by how much he’d disclosed when he usually never said anything. But then her attention was stolen away by the warmth on her limbs. She dared to look down and real
ized he had both his hands on her arms, holding her in place so she couldn’t move away from him. And the last thing she wanted to do was move away from him. But she remembered herself, as she was good at doing.

  “Yeah, the thief is a huge mystery. Dave can’t figure out who is doing it or why,” Zuma said, stepping back, away from Finley’s grip.

  He dropped his hands. They felt like anchors suddenly. “Strange for sure,” he said, but Zuma spied the essence of a lie. Finley, she could sense, knew more than he was telling, but maybe that was only because he’d been investigating. She had noticed that he was always watching people, always seeming to be finding covert information. When his attention wasn’t nailed on her then it was taking a break to snoop out the people around Vagabond Circus.

  Finley’s eyes ran over the space between him and Zuma. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, bringing his eyes up to her. “I shouldn’t always use my speed on you and just now I didn’t mean to touch—”

  The sound of scratching cut him off. He shut his mouth at once and listened to the sound of what he thought might be metal on dirt. Now that it was close enough, he recognized the sound. It was reminiscent of his childhood.

  Finley brought his finger to his mouth and faced Zuma, who nodded. They both approached the back flap, only used for maintenance. Using his speed, and wanting to scout any danger ahead of Zuma, Finley hurried to the exit. Once there, he peered out and took a giant breath of relief. He’d turned to assure Zuma before she was even five feet away.

  “It’s fine,” he said, pointing out the exit.

  “Well, what’s causing the ruckus?” she asked.

  He waved her over. “Just an ambitious ten-year-old boy,” Finley said, pointing to the side.

  Zuma poked her head out and stared in the direction Finley had pointed. Now she realized that at this location in Eugene, this exit backed up right beside where Dave and Titus’s office was set up. Her eyes took a moment to register, but then quite clearly she saw Benjamin clearing dirt out of a hole beside the office tent using a trowel.

  “What is he doing?” she questioned Finley at once, who didn’t look at all worried.

  “He’s trying to ensure he gets the best job when he comes of age,” he said, proudly.

  And just then Benjamin took a submarine-type scope he’d built and put it into the hole. He squinted through it, a clever grin on his face.

  “He’s spying on Dave and Titus,” Zuma said, revolted. Her loud voice couldn’t be heard by the boy since he wasn’t dream traveling and was in the physical realm. Dave and Titus, who were discussing various acts, also weren’t dream traveling. Finley knew that Dave didn’t usually dream travel until later in the night, if at all.

  “Don’t worry,” Finley said, placing a hand on Zuma’s shoulder and trying to corral her back. “He just wants to know what they want in the best acts. It’s his dream to be in the circus. And look,” he said, indicating the boy lying on his stomach in the dirt. Benjamin had just set down his scope and was jotting down something on a pad.

  Zuma stepped closer, realizing now that he couldn’t see or hear her. Over Benjamin’s shoulder she read, “What every Vagabond Circus performer needs to know.”

  Finley was already at her side again. “And have a listen into the conversation in there.”

  She stopped and listened.

  “Oh yes, I agree, Titus,” Dave said, speaking too loudly. “I agree that our best performers study a lot and make good grades. They also floss, they floss all the time, because a winning smile always wows the audience.”

  Zuma’s face lit up and then turned to Finley. “Dave knows. They know,” she said in astonishment. “They’re feeding Benjamin information.”

  Finley was smiling widely back at her, but it wasn’t from the information they’d just discovered, but because of the look on Zuma’s face. Her face with a pure smile on it had too many effects on him, but more than anything it made him happy. Then at the thought, his face fell slack. At least Zuma could have fleeting moments of happiness, it seemed, if nothing else.

  “How did you know?” she asked Finley. “About Benjamin? How did you know he wasn’t up to something nefarious just now?”

  Finley turned his gaze to the eager boy, lying on the ground and listening to the conversation on the other side of the tent. “Just look at the kid. He wants to be someone when he grows up,” Finley said and then added, “And he wants to be a part of Vagabond Circus when he grows up. It’s obvious in everything he does.”

  “He must have snuck out of Fanny’s trailer,” Zuma guessed. “But I guess it’s safe to allow him to stay here after hours since he’s up to something good.”

  “I agree,” Finley said. What he didn’t say was that he’d charged Benjamin with the job of keeping an eye on Dave on the nights he had rehearsal with the acrobats. He hadn’t realized the boy would dig a hole and build a scope to do it, but now he realized he enlisted the right kid for the job.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  As Dave had suspected would happen, most of the initial excitement among the circus members had died down after the newness of being the most popular circus in North America had faded. Most relations among the Vagabond Circus employees had gone back to normal. Sunshine wasn’t smarting off to everyone. Fanny’s kids were mostly calm. And the crew all seemed happy, although there was more work, with a full house every night.

  Finley could hardly believe he’d been with the circus for over three months. It felt like no time at all to him and then also, like the longest stretch of his entire life. No doubt the last few months had been demanding for him, but not because of his role in the circus.

  What he was most proud about was that he’d figured out how to create a wall between Zuma and him. It came down sometimes, because she had a knack for finding his loose mortar and pushing at it. But for the most part, he’d been able to keep his distance. There were times where he spied a look in her that dared him to cross new boundaries, but he reminded himself of who he was then, and why he was here. And still he cared for her, wanted to help break the curse, one that Fanny said the girl wasn’t even aware was on her. Finley didn’t have any free time, but he still used any spare second he had to deliberate on Zuma’s curse and how to break it.

  The autumn winds had started to blow at the big top one afternoon when he caught himself staring at her across the space. They’d just set up in southern Oregon and Finley realized how perfect the schedule was. They’d be out of the Pacific Northwest before winter hit. The Vagabond Circus would spend all of the cold months in California where temperatures are mild. The bad news for Finley was that the further south they got, the more he’d have to watch his back. And there were other problems that were plaguing him. Weighing on him. And yet, he never felt like he had the focus he needed to finally resolve all the problems. To free himself of the mission.

  “Why are you staring at me?” Zuma asked from her place on the mat. She had her feet touching in a butterfly stretch.

  He blinked rapidly. “I wasn’t,” he lied and knew his face gave it away immediately.

  However, Zuma let it go. She too seemed comfortable with having the wall up between them. Well, not comfortable, but resigned to it. The acrobat had more spare time than Finley and she used most of it to wonder about him. Always she had something else planned, and always her thoughts flocked to the boy of mystery with eyes like a cheetah’s. Finley wasn’t overtly mean to Zuma anymore, but he also wasn’t nice. And still, no matter what, she could turn her gaze to find him staring at her. She stayed away from him, and him her, spending his time with the freaks: Sunshine, the triplets, and Oliver. But every time she looked at him from her place between Jack and Jasmine, Finley was staring at her. His eyes seemed to always be on her. Always watching and trying to piece and unpiece her together in his mind. And Zuma hated that she liked the way his stare felt on her, like silk against her skin.

  “Are you ready to get started?” Finley asked, pushing to a standing position. He me
ant their final act, which Dave wanted them to practice at least once in each new location before the first show.

  “I guess,” Zuma said. They’d practiced and performed the act so many times that she was sure she could do it under the worst conditions: blind, sick, or heartbroken. Those were what she considered the worst-case scenarios.

  She took her place.

  “Try not to do that one thing this time,” he said, getting into position.

  “What thing?” she said.

  “The second part of the act, where you rush the sequence.”

  “Oh, is that what you think I’m doing?” she said, standing tall, not offended in the least by him. “Because I think you’re too slow and I’m doing it perfectly.”

  She was probably right, but Finley found that a slight bit of criticism helped to reinforce the wall between him and Zuma. So he made a point of throwing something critical at her before each practice. “I think you’re mistaking the word ‘perfectly’ for sloppy,” he said in his usual offhanded manner.

  And for whatever reason, something shifted in Zuma. Her face. The stoic expression she always wore, it cracked. Just a bit. And for a second Finley spied an emotion in her he’d only seen once. That first rehearsal where he’d insulted her callousness toward her family, where he’d actually hurt her. That expression of pain flared in her eyes.