by Sarah Noffke
“And where is Zuma while you’re giving yourself up for her happiness?” she asked.
Finley backed up a few steps, wondering what he should do next. Wondering what he should say to get the smile back on Samara’s face. He dumbly just bit his lip.
“You’re going to send her to free Jack, aren’t you? And in the meantime you’ll go and free her by imprisoning yourself. Is that right?” she said as she strolled around the island carrying the knife with her, a threat in her voice. “Does Zuma know about this?”
He bumped into a stool and then a countertop as he shuffled back away, surprised by the woman’s shifting demeanor. “N-n-no,” he stuttered out.
She turned and stuck the knife into the watermelon sitting on the island. “As I said before, I believe in people having free choice. And in my opinion, the one you didn’t ask for, you should give Zuma the choice to decide if she wants you to make a sacrifice for her.”
“But she doesn’t know about the curse, does she?” Finley said.
“No, she doesn’t since I never wanted to create a self-fulfilling prophecy for her,” Samara said, her hands now on her hips.
“Well, in my opinion that you didn’t ask for, I think that was a good call,” Finley said. “And I also think telling her what I’m planning to do will only tarnish any of the happiness that lifting the curse creates.”
“Finley…” She said his name with that same punishing quality that Zuma had mastered.
“Free choice, right?” he said, injecting confidence in his tone.
Samara dropped her chin, looking almost defeated. Then she nodded solemnly and said, “Yes, of course.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Children lined the long concrete and metal corridor, their heads down. Gwendolyn marched in front of Knight.
“Good day, Master,” “Hello Master,” “Glory be to you, Master,” the kids said in whispered voices as Knight marched by. Gwendolyn pictured the kids were mumbling to her as they passed. At the end of the corridor Gwendolyn moved to the side, taking the position beside Sebastian.
“Everything is ready, Master,” the boy said, his eyes cast down. No one was allowed to look directly at Knight. No one. Not even Sebastian or even his newest named kid, Gwendolyn.
“Good,” the man said.
Knight turned to the fifty kids standing at attention, determined looks on their dirty faces. “Rest up, kids. Tomorrow is a big day. Tomorrow we will meet a fate I’ve been working toward for over two decades. Tomorrow we will take Dave Raydon’s greatest treasure.”
“Yes, Master,” the kids said in unison.
And the bonus to all this, Knight thought, was that he would punish Finley. The boy who betrayed him. Sebastian confirmed it. The younger boy had seen Finley at Vagabond Circus. He’d not only escaped Knight’s compound, but he’d gone to work for Dave, his nemesis. Knight would make him suffer, but not enough to kill Finley, like he did to Jack. He needed Finley alive.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“This is your room?” Finley said, his words coated in disbelief.
Zuma’s bedroom was easily the size of a small house. A king-size bed sat atop a platform at the back of the room. There was a sitting area with a leather couch and an oversized armchair to the right of the bed. And on the wall where they entered were shelves of books and a writing desk. Between all the furniture was an open space large enough for him to do multiple back-to-back somersaults in.
“This was my room. They keep it for me, although I’ve told them they don’t need to,” Zuma said, eyeing the space she hadn’t seen in quite some time. There was no nostalgia in her gaze.
“You have no intention of ever leaving the circus, do you?” he asked, his eyes running over a stack of stuffed animals and trophies in a corner.
Zuma looked at him, appalled. “Why would I ever leave Vagabond Circus?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the no dating rule,” he said and then cringed internally. How had he let that slip out of him?
“Right, well…” Zuma said, unsure how to answer that. What she couldn’t say was he was the only person in Vagabond Circus she ever really wanted and now that chance was lost. “I’ll just breed with someone outside the circus, I guess. A Middling maybe. One of my fans,” she said flippantly. “It will make for a tough arrangement, but we’ll make it work.” At other circuses most people who married were in the circus, since the nomadic lifestyle encouraged it. It was a bit unrealistic to think a successful marriage could be had between a circus person and an outsider.
Finley narrowed his eyes at her. “Or maybe the rule will change now.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” she sang, feigning nonchalance, but it was growing more difficult moment by moment. That’s why Zuma decided to really start throwing wedges between them. “Hey, but if Titus does get rid of the rule, then you should totally go after Sunshine. I’ve noticed you two get on well.”
“Zuma,” he said, a warning in his voice. “Sunshine is my friend. Don’t do this.”
“Do what?” she said, pretending innocence.
He shook his head at her and then studied the bedroom. “Is that the bathroom?” He pointed at a door.
“Last time I checked,” she said.
“Can I take a shower?” After the long drive he really needed to rinse off; maybe that would calm his nerves too.
“Go ahead,” she said.
“Thanks,” Finley said. And then he turned, giving her a clever grin. He decided that if she was going to be a witch to him then he’d play right back. “Just so you know, I’m locking the door. I wouldn’t want you getting any ideas.”
Her mouth popped open with alarm. “What kind of ideas do you think I’d get?”
He winked at her before turning around and walking off. “Oh, you know.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was no secret to Haady or Nabhi that their sister Padmal had despised Dr. Dave Raydon. It had been like this since he and Fanny adopted the triplets seven years ago. The brothers were grateful that every year Padmal stayed, even though her bad attitude never changed.
“Do you think she’ll be any more tolerable now?” Haady asked his brother as they sat back to back in the practice tent. They were best friends, more bonded to each other due to Padmal’s need to criticize them. She loved her brothers, but they knew she also resented them. It was because there were three of them that their mother gave them up. Dave had also been aware of this bitterness and had counseled the boys, trying to help them see that each child handles abandonment differently. The brothers had turned to each other for support. Padmal had turned to her anger, harboring herself there. A ship anchored in tumultuous water.
Nabhi threw a straight punch into the mat under them. “It’s ridiculous that she should feel better that our savior is dead. She’s a selfish bitch,” he said.
Haady pushed away the tears that his brother’s outburst caused. Their years in the orphanage gave them hardened eyes. But both were emotional enough that it made up for their sister’s callousness. The brothers were over six feet tall and not quite sixteen. They looked almost identical although they weren’t. And both kept their dark brown hair shoulder length. Now that hair hung loose, not in its normal ponytail.
“Maybe we give her permission to leave the act now,” Haady said, pushing the tears to his stomach. The three telekinetics had the best juggling act in the country, possibly the world. They’d been approached by many scouts, but the boys always turned down the illustrious offers, usually without Padmal knowing they were made.
“The act is better with three. And now that Dave is gone we have to ensure that the circus stays stellar,” Nabhi said.
“Yeah,” Haady said. “Well, then we have to convince her to stay.”
“Well, as long as she thinks our mother is still out there trying to find her precious daughter then she’s going to be intolerable,” Nabhi said.
Padmal was convinced that their mother was remorseful that she gave up her tripl
ets, but more than anything that she gave up her only daughter. The young girl wanted to be the child that her mother kept. Often Padmal told her brothers that one day she’d find the woman and the two of them would be so happy together, mother and daughter. Reunited at last. She didn’t care that much for their feelings when she talked about these fantasies. The brothers had offered to find their mother with her, but their sister was against it. Padmal said when she was reunited with her mother she wanted to be the sole center of her attention, and she thought her brothers owed her this because they had each other. And more often lately the girl had been threatening to leave them and track down this woman.
“Well, then I say we go forth with the plan we’ve been discussing,” Haady said.
“Yeah,” his brother agreed. “We will start tomorrow, but tonight we grieve the man who saved us. The one Padmal so unjustly hates, and one day she will be punished for it.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
When the shower turned off, Zuma knocked on the bathroom door, feeling ridiculous. She knew on the other side of the wall Finley was standing, probably drying off. “Hey, my dad wanted me to give you some clean clothes. They’re here by the door,” she said and laid them on the carpet next to the wall. It was her fault that Finley didn’t have anything with him. She hadn’t given him a chance to pack anything before they left. Zuma hardly gave him a chance to throw on his shoes.
Zuma was just rising from laying the clothes on the ground when Finley pulled the door open. He had a plush white towel wrapped around his waist, and water dripping off his spiky hair, making it look almost black. The water also beaded on his chest. Zuma startled at the sight of him, but quickly turned and walked off.
“Thanks,” he said, kneeling down to pick up the shirt and shorts that would swallow him.
“Go ahead and hand me your clothes and they’ll be laundered,” Zuma said, studying the bookshelf like its contents were new.
“No, that’s all right,” Finley said from behind the closed bathroom door. “I don’t want your parents to go to the trouble.” He opened the door and to Zuma’s relief Finley was fully clothed, the towel slung over his shoulder, his dirty clothes tucked under his arm.
“Oh, they’re not going to do it. Ginny is,” Zuma said with a laugh.
“She’s the maid, isn’t she?” he asked.
“We prefer to call her our housekeeper.” She pointed to the clothes under his arm. “Just stick those in the hamper over there and they’ll be sent down the chute to be laundered.”
“Fancy,” Finley said, moving around Zuma as she made for the bathroom.
“Not really. It’s a tube that empties out into a laundry room,” she said, not hiding the sneer in her voice. She turned on the bathroom fan Finley apparently didn’t know about to clear some steam out of the room. “So you made quite the impression on my mom,” she said, pulling conditioner and a razor from the cabinet. Since Zuma never stayed at her house, only soap and shampoo were kept in the shower stall.
“Huh?” Finley said from outside the bathroom, unable to make out all of her words over the hum of the fan.
“My mom,” Zuma said. “She won’t tell me what you two talked about and is guarding it in her thoughts. She rarely does that.”
Finley ducked into the bathroom, hanging his towel on the wall hook. “Really?” he said, relief in his voice.
“What sort of lies did you feed to her?” Zuma said, pulling a clean towel from the cabinet and threading it on the warming rack.
“I didn’t tell her any lies, Zuma,” he said, scolding her with his eyes.
“Hmmm…” she said, walking past him and touching the door handle, trying to encourage his exit. “Well, whatever you fed her she’s taken with you.”
Finley, taking the hint, turned to leave the bathroom.
“She thinks I should be nicer to you,” Zuma added.
Finley paused at the threshold and turned to her, a look of hope in his eyes.
“Oh, don’t get excited,” she said. “I usually never do what my mom says. Actually most often the opposite.”
Zuma was trying to punish him, get under his skin. She’d been working at it all day and he had finally had enough. Finley reached out and grabbed her arm. He did it gently but it still worked to grab her attention. Zuma, of course, saw this coming but allowed it. She had been pushing him.
“You may be furious at me, Zuma,” he said up close to her face. “You may despise me and be repulsed by me, but keep in mind that I’m still in love with you. So try to hide just a little of your hostility because it’s breaking me right now.”
Zuma drew in a breath, her nostrils flaring. How dare he throw his love in her face, she thought. How dare he manipulate her after the day she had?
“How about I help you by breaking the fingers you have so boldly put on me?” Zuma said, eyeing his hand on her. “Then maybe you won’t like me so much.”
That’s where she was wrong. There was nothing she could do to lose his affection. Finley was cursed to love the girl who despised him. He’d tried to stop it, but every part of Finley was owned by Zuma. And just the fact that she was the only person who was skilled enough to actually break his fingers only deepened his attraction to the girl. He dropped his hand from her arm and stalked away. Zuma started the shower just after she heard him exit her room. She didn’t know where he was going, but she was hoping he hadn’t left her. He promised he wouldn’t.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Crust had partially sealed Jack’s eyes shut. Three times he attempted to open them and was deterred by the eyelashes yanking against each other, making tears swell from the pressure. His shaking hands picked at the crust surrounding his swollen eyes. When he finally opened them he wished he hadn’t. His view was of blood and waste and his broken legs, which were curled up and cracked in front of him. His jeans were soaked with his own blood.
Jack pressed his eyes back closed. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been passed out. The skylight above him where he entered still had a night sky behind it. Knight had left him there to die, he suspected. It was a cruel death. A loser’s death. Jack didn’t know it, but after a long twelve hours, he would be dead. He pressed his eyelids firmer together.
Right then if his consciousness was strong enough Jack would have dream traveled away, transported himself to a final beautiful setting. Have a last happy memory in this lifetime. But that wasn’t an option for the dying man. He didn’t have the focus to dream travel. That feat could only be achieved with optimal levels of consciousness and right then Jack was slipping in and out, his mind blanketed by pain. He opened his eyes and screamed out. All his pain and anguish so perfectly described in that one guttural sound. And if anyone heard him, they dismissed the sound, so used to hearing tortured screams inside Knight’s compound.
Chapter Thirty
Showered and wearing a pair of brand new pajamas, Zuma sat curled up in her bed not reading the book lying in her lap. It was an old favorite, Life of Pi, and yet she couldn’t keep her focus on it. Every noise made her jump, thinking it was Finley returning to her room. She did mean to hurt him, but she was sorry for it. The look on his face when he reminded Zuma that he was in love with her and she was hurting him, cut the girl. It wasn’t fair that he could remind her of this after he’d broken her heart. In essence, he was saying she couldn’t punish him for his decisions which led to Dave’s death. That wasn’t fair, and yet he wasn’t completely wrong. She knew even if she couldn’t forgive him that every unkind act toward Finley wasn’t productive. It was bad karma. It was Zuma tearing out her own heart.
Her eyes had fallen shut without her permission when Finley finally returned to her room. Zuma pushed to a sitting position, slightly bewildered. “You’re back,” she said, tossing the book on the bedside table.
“Yeah, well I considered sleeping in the garden until the sprinklers kicked on,” he said and she spied the dampness of her father’s clothes on Finley. She suppressed a small grin but he didn’
t notice it.
“That’s where you’ve been? In the garden?” Zuma asked.
Finley stood six feet from her bed, looking unsure what to do with himself as he stared around the oversized room. “Yeah,” he said, not looking at her.
“I thought you’d left,” she said, watching him closely, waiting to see how he’d react to her words.
He spun his gaze at her, his eyes narrowed. “What? I told you I wouldn’t.”
She shrugged. “And as we’ve already established, I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.”
Finley pressed his eyes shut and laid his hand across his brow, shaking his head. To Zuma he looked tired, not just tired, but bordering on defeated.
“I made up the sofa for you,” she said, pointing to the brown leather couch now draped with sheets and a fluffy comforter. “I hope it’s all right.”
“Thanks,” he said, dragging himself to the makeshift bed. “Yeah, it’s fine.”
“Oh, I forgot a pillow,” she said, tossing a cushion from the other side of her king-size bed at him. Finley reached out with his super speed and grabbed it.
“Thanks,” he said.
