by Sarah Noffke
Zuma gave him a remorseful look. “I don’t know. He won’t say.”
“Oh,” Jack said, disappointment oozing from his tone.
“But you need to keep trying. And there’s something else I want you to work on.”
“What’s that?” he said with a sideways look.
“Drawing out your other dream travel gift that you have.”
He blew out a sigh. “I’ve tried, Z. Maybe Dave was wrong and I’m not electrokinetic.”
“When was Dave ever wrong?” she challenged. “If he thought that skill was dormant within you then he had to be right. And I think it could come in handy.”
“Handy? Like a pair of pliers? Great, I’ll be handy in the battle to take Knight down,” Jack said.
She shook her head at him but smiled still. “I mean handy like a Taser gun.”
“Now you’re talking,” he said.
“Just promise me you’ll work on it.”
“Yeah, sure,” he said as the door at her back opened.
A kind face poked in and paused. Benjamin’s brown eyes brightened at the sight of Zuma. “Am I interrupting? Fanny sent me back to grab some books but told me not to interrupt your PT session, Mr. Fuller.”
Jack waved the boy in. “Not at all. Grab your books.”
Benjamin’s face lightened with a smile that was without a single restriction.
“Actually, Benjamin, I’m glad you came in when you did,” Zuma said.
“You are?” he said and his freckled face flushed red.
“Yes,” Zuma said, also waving him in and over. “We were discussing a plan for getting the bad guys away from Vagabond Circus.”
“You mean that mean man, the new ringmaster?” Benjamin said, his smile falling.
“Yes,” Zuma said. “And I want you to help, but to do so you’re going to have to keep a lot of secrets. Can you do that?”
Benjamin looked at Jack and then Zuma. “Will what I do make Fanny happy again? Take that worried look off her face?”
Zuma nodded confidently. “It will help everyone. It will save Vagabond Circus.”
“Then absolutely!” the boy said.
Chapter Forty-Nine
“I hear this show gets into your bones,” Gretchen Roberts said to her companion. They sat in the front row in the big top. “Oh, look,” she said, pointing at the entrance. “Liam Williams is here.” That actor, Mr. Williams, had won the Academy Award for Best Actor the year prior.
The entire tent was quickly filling with actors and actresses and their husbands or wives. Children were hardly in attendance since Vagabond Circus was quickly getting the reputation for being un-kid-friendly.
“My agent saw this circus in San Francisco. He said the show gave him nightmares for a whole week,” Doris Flanagan said from three rows from the front. She had just finished an acclaimed role where she played Margaret Thatcher.
Never before had the circus performed for so many well-known people at once. Even the last show in San Francisco, which was performed for the President of the United States and the First Man, didn’t have the anticipation that this one did. Zuma watched from the back curtain as the tent filled, her eidetic memory cataloging the faces. She was fine with performing for whomever, but she didn’t like how this elite feel was taking the circus away from the very people it was originally supposed to entertain: the non-believers. It had been months since an overworked middle-class cynic sat in their audience. These people were thrill seekers, not ones who had lost their faith in magic and needed it restored.
Zuma turned from the curtain to find Finley a few feet away, watching her. The show had been rearranged due to Jack’s absence and Jasmine’s death. The duo now performed six times in each show. Double what they used to do. But they did it without complaint and also without speaking. The pair had mastered the art of working silently, reading each other’s movements and making the alterations they judged necessary. Their muscles spoke to each other. Their eyes wrestled with one another’s. But they hardly ever had reason to speak. Finley held his hand out to her and Zuma knew he was urging her to take their place for the first act. Just then she heard Knight announcing the circus.
After the lions charged the front row, Zuma and Finley would make their first appearance of the night. She laid her hand in his, softly, so they were barely touching. Finley directed her to the area by the side curtain. Zuma relied on him since it was pitch black, but Finley could always see fine no matter how much light. Zuma felt her long white train brushing the ground behind her. The story for the circus was still the same: she was still a girl unable to experience the night at her father’s insistence, but one evening she escaped and met the monsters of the dark. However, Knight had made it more nightmarish and less of a love story. In the end, she falls for Finley, the diabolical monster, but just when she gives her heart to him he does the unspeakable.
Finley paused at the crack in the curtain just as Oliver made the lions appear in the center of the ring. The crowd of famous people gasped. One screamed. Finley gave Zuma a look she could barely see in the dark; she could only make out the whites of his lonely eyes. Then he pulled down the horned mask that covered half his face and she turned her gaze away, knowing she couldn’t really see him anyway, not when he wore the mask.
***
By the finale of the show everyone in the crowd was perched on the edge of their cushioned seat. Some had left the show early, unable to deal with the dark images Oliver was forced to conjure, or they were afraid they’d feel the heat of Sunshine’s flame. Those who remained were mesmerized by the show, like a car accident they couldn’t look away from.
The greenish lights illuminated, showing Zuma crouched in the middle of the ring. She and Finley had already performed the duo on the wire, which involved flips and leaps that had threatened each acrobat with too many potential life-altering falls. Still they landed with a practiced grace. Then Finley had disappeared. Teleported out of the ring, leaving Zuma’s character alone. She searched the ring, which was decorated like a haunted forest, for the monster she believed she loved. Finley then appeared wearing a neon green body suit lined with sequins that made him resemble a serpent. He sped forward as Zuma’s ballet-slippered feet brought her backwards. As rehearsed, she stumbled and just as she fell back he slipped a hand behind her, catching the girl, then he slung her into his arms and spun her around. It was a beautiful blur of movements. The couple fell into an alluring tango of actions. And just as he went to shove her away from him Zuma slipped a hand across his cheek, making the monster straighten, fear oozing off his masked face. Then he disappeared again, teleporting to the back stage.
Several times during the final act Finley disappeared, leaving Zuma to spin and leap around the forest. And then she grabbed the silver rings hanging from the ceiling, the ones Knight had bent from a pole before the audience’s eyes. She gripped one and pulled herself up, manipulating her body into a series of graceful poses. But never did she stay in a position long because the bolts of fire Sunshine sent in her direction always made it necessary to seek refuge in another place in the ring.
And then at long last, when most audience members’ adrenal glands were ready to explode, Finley appeared behind a tree made by a crew member. He caught Zuma from behind. She spun to face him, desire and longing radiating off her. He spun her around like a prize he had finally allowed himself to have as the eerie music grew in intensity. He tossed her in the air and teleported in time to catch the girl as she leaped. He spun her around against him, then as the pair faced each other he withdrew something from his back. She stood staring at him, her character vibrating with anticipation of the kiss she knew was about to grace her. Finley slid his leg behind her, encouraging her back into a low dip. The tip of his mask sunk down low close to Zuma’s face. Her arms flung back like the wings of a bird, her position communicating to the audience her complete submission to the monster.
Once, twice, three times he slid the long tip of the nose of his mask against
her face. Every eye in the big top was large. And everyone’s heart beat with a strange foreboding. Zuma then grabbed his face to encourage the kiss she knew was about to happen. And just then Finley reared back, holding the long silver dagger high in the air directed at his partner’s chest. And the lights faded to black.
There was never a standing ovation after the finale like there used to be. The acrobats didn’t bow to a crowd of glistening faces and large smiles. With Finley directing them through the dark, they disappeared behind the curtain. Then the audience straggled out, speechless and changed by the show they witnessed.
Chapter Fifty
The Vagabond Circus didn’t have a party after the performance for the movie stars in Santa Barbara. They stopped having those parties a month ago. No one really saw the reason for celebrating. Yes, they performed in a successful show. One that was sold out in every city. One that stunned audiences. However, it didn’t serve the purpose that it used to. Knight said they were free to leave or do as they pleased, and although they knew they were prisoners as long as they stayed, no one left.
“There they are,” a man said as Zuma and Finley exited the big top after the show, both side by side and also a million miles apart. They were still in costume. Finley gave the man who approached them a protective stare. The man was dressed in a black suit with a blue tie. Beside him was Titus, who had an unusually positive look on his face.
“Hello, my name is—”
“Robert Johnson,” Zuma said, cutting the man off. Everyone knew the actor. He had starred in hundreds of movies and was now also a film producer.
“Exactly,” he said, shaking Finley’s hand. Then he took Zuma’s and kissed it softly.
“Mr. Johnson was extremely impressed with your performances tonight,” Titus said, a glint of pride in his eyes. He wore his hands clasped behind his back.
“I was,” the man said, letting Zuma’s hand go. Finley was afraid that the attention of this star would make Zuma blush, as it would with most girls. He was relieved to find her face impassive. She seemed to be studying the man’s slicked back black hair and full features like a detective, no attraction on her face. “I have a film series I’m looking to produce. A six-part series actually,” Mr. Johnson said. “And I was thinking the two of you would be perfect for the lead roles. You have an incredible chemistry and the right athletic skills.”
“We aren’t actors,” Zuma said in response to this.
“You could have fooled me,” the man said with a laugh, looking at Titus, who laughed too. “That was an incredible show of acting. And to be able to communicate words and emotions like you two did without saying a word, well, there are few in Hollywood as skilled as you.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re offering us,” Finley said, and Zuma then felt something catch inside her chest. She realized it was the first time she’d heard him speak in a long time. Too long. His voice was fresh water to her parched throat. She looked at him then and realized he had his tentative eyes on her, sensing her tension mount. He could always read Zuma.
“I’m offering you a chance in my movie,” the producer said with a smile in his voice. “I mean there’s a process and if you got the part, then the other movies wouldn’t be guaranteed, but they might.”
Zuma shook her head, which was heavy with braids and the jewels fastened in various places. “But we’d have to leave Vagabond Circus.”
The man nodded. “I’m afraid you would, but you might find it worth your departure from such a great organization. I think I could make it worth your while.”
“But we can’t—”
“Zuma,” Titus said, an influencing tone in his voice, “Mr. Johnson is offering you a chance to audition for major Hollywood parts. For the both of you, Finley and yourself, to star in up to six films.”
“And who knows the opportunities available to you after that,” Mr. Johnson said, reaching into his breast pocket and withdrawing two cards.
“But we’d have to leave Dave’s circus and our family here,” Zuma said to Titus.
“But you and Finley would be away from here. Jack could go with you when he’s strong enough. Think of the influence you could make on the big screen. That’s what you want to do, to inspire, right? And you’d be safe,” Titus said.
The Hollywood producer gave a curious look at the mention of safety, but before he could offer any more encouragement Knight appeared from seemingly nowhere. The night was dark and Zuma had sensed a person approaching. Finley, who could see well in the dark, knew it was Knight. But the other two men appeared almost startled when the tall man invaded the circle, his frame towering over the group. Robert Johnson was startled because that was the effect Knight had with his strange appearance. Titus was startled because he knew Knight and what he would think of this conversation.
“Robert, thank you for accepting my invitation tonight,” Knight said, offering the man his hand. “I hope you enjoyed the show.”
He took his hand and shook it, smiling. “I did indeed. Thank you.”
Knight then turned his attention on Finley and then Zuma; both had their gazes on the ground, knowing better than to look at the ringmaster. “Two things,” he said, hissing on the last word. “The first is Zuma, I do believe I just heard you refer to this as Dave’s circus.”
“I misspoke,” she said. “What I meant to say—”
“I think you said exactly what you meant to say, but wouldn’t have dared to speak so plainly if you knew I was listening,” Knight said, the menace heavy in his tone.
“I’m sure Ms. Zanders meant no harm,” Robert dared to speak up, to protect Zuma, sensing she was about to be punished in some way.
Knight revolved slowly, like a cobra finding a better source for its attention, until he was facing Robert. “And secondly, Robert, I did not invite you to my circus so you could pilfer and steal my best performers. I invited you here so you could help promote my circus through your channels.”
“But Knight,” Titus said, his voice almost a whisper, his eyes on Robert. “You said that if the performers stuck with you that there would be opportunities. You said that in Los Angeles you’d help by showing them off to directors and producers, like Robert.”
“I did,” Knight said, looking at Titus with a sinister stare, his voice much louder. “And I meant it.” He turned to the actor. “Recruit the jugglers, the magician, the other stars in the show, but these two aren’t up for grabs.” He then looked at Finley. “Ever,” he said, drawing out the word.
“Shouldn’t that be their decision to make? Titus tells me they aren’t under contract,” Robert said.
“Yes, it should be,” Knight said, his seething stare flipping to Titus before turning back to Finley and then Zuma. “Tell me, acrobats, do you want to go off together, abandoning your commitment to Vagabond Circus to make movies? Or would you rather stay here where you know you will be safe and with the people you care for and therefore want to keep safe and healthy?”
Finley only nodded. But Zuma, realizing the threat and instantly worried for her circus family, said, “Yes, I want to stay.” She then looked at the outsider. “Thank you for your offer but we aren’t interested in leaving, Mr. Johnson.”
Robert gave a discouraged look to Titus before nodding to the girl. “Very well,” he said and handed a thick ivory white business card to her. “In case you change your mind.”
She took the card, her eyes low. He then offered it to Finley, but the acrobat knew better and simply shook his head.
“Well, I think that settles it,” Knight said, his eyes on the card in Zuma’s fingers, seeming to burn it with his gaze. “Robert, why don’t I escort you to the exit,” he said and turned and strode in the opposite direction.
Chapter Fifty-One
The day after Vagabond Circus performed for the A-list celebrities there was no change in morale. Padmal was well enough to perform with her brothers but the boys still hung their heads low, depression heavy in their every move. At lunc
h the next day, Oliver pushed his tofu and penne around in its Alfredo sauce with no interest in actually eating the overly abused morsels of food. Sunshine was absent as she was most days, spending her extra hours to relieve Fanny or work with Jack.
“If everyone is miserable then why are we sticking around to endure this abuse?” Padmal said from her place next to Oliver.
He turned to her, irritation in his every movement. “Ian told us we shouldn’t leave.”
“Who cares what that idiot said,” Padmal griped. “Have you seen that guy? He looks awful these days. I wouldn’t follow his advice.”
“Ian is under as much stress as the rest of us. Look around, Padmal, everyone looks awful,” Nabhi said.
“None of you were stabbed in the foot,” she said, leaning across the table. “You all have nothing to complain about.”
“Oh, that’s right, your woes are worse than everyone else’s, I completely forgot,” Nabhi said, not backing down but rather leaning in, creating a stare-off with his sister.
“Nab,” Haady said, placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
To everyone’s surprise Nabhi shrugged him off with a sharp movement. “No, this little princess once again thinks she suffers more than the rest of us, and I’m about tired of it. Look, Padmal, we all get the headaches. While you were lying around recovering for months, we all were performing in this demonic circus. We’ve seen firsthand and continuously the cruelty, and we aren’t going anywhere. But if you want to leave, then by all means. Haady and I can obviously handle the act without you.”
