by K. A Knight
“Welcome home, Carino.” His voice runs over me, my heart warming at his nickname for me. I’m still not sure what it means and I haven’t plucked up the courage to ask yet.
“Any problems?” Alcide turns his attention to Blain, and I fight irritation that he didn’t think to ask me.
“Let’s talk somewhere private.” Blain’s reply is quiet, as he looks pointedly around the campsite where people are milling around. A look of concern crosses Alcide’s face, but he nods in agreement.
“Meet me at my tent, I will get the others,” he orders, and the three of us nod, watching as Alcide turns on his heel and strides farther into the circus.
Jesse practically skips to Alcide’s tent, his enthusiasm palpable, and it makes me smile as I walk a few steps behind him. When we walk past one of the bigger tents, I hear Tiny inside and I pause in my tracks. Blain smacks into my back with a curse, startling me out of my daydream.
“Damn it, Harpy, give a guy some warning before you decide to just stop walking!” he complains, but there is no real heat in his tone. Ever since the attack last month, he has thawed out towards me and is more thoughtful.
“Sorry. I just want to check something first.” I flash him a smile, gesturing towards the animal tent. “I won’t be long.”
Rolling his eyes, he mutters under his breath. I don’t quite hear what he says, but I did catch the words ‘bloody animals.’ Blain doesn’t understand my relationship with the animals and doesn’t have the best relationship with half of them, especially Rumple and Bubbles. I secretly think he is scared of them, not that he would ever admit that. Stalking off into the depths of the camp, I watch his muscled body as he follows behind Jesse. He reminds me of a cat, a predator like Fluffy, strength coiled tightly in his muscles, one wrong move and you will find yourself with a knife at your throat.
Speaking of Fluffy… A smile crosses my lips, and I hurry into the animal tent. A chorus of noises greets me, my smile turning into a beam as I wave at the animals, who are just as much part of my family as the rest of the circus.
“Hey guys! Are you being good for Rex?” I coo, walking towards a curtained off area. I had spotted Rex in a pile of the animals as I walked in, and could see him trying to extract himself and make his way over to me. I giggle at the image of this huge man gently trying to make his way through the animals.
Sid appears out of nowhere and twines himself around my legs. I am beginning to wonder if Sid had ‘adapted’ more than just his unusual appearance, since his ability to appear seemingly from thin air seems supernatural to me.
“Hey boy, where have you been?” I absently scratch his head as I continue on my quest.
I peer behind the curtains and feel my heart ache at what I witness. Feeling Rex’s presence behind me, I glance over my shoulder. My happiness from seeing the animals has dimmed, and my smile portrays this. Gripping my shoulder, he gives it a gentle squeeze before walking past me and towards the injured animal.
“Fluffy, my gorgeous boy, how are you?” I call softly, crouching down in front of the big cat.
He tries to push up onto all fours once he realises it’s me, welcoming noises coming from the back of his throat, chuffs greeting me. Despite this, I can’t help but notice how he flinched when we first walked in. The beautiful, fearless big cat had been badly injured in the attack, and we had nearly lost him. It’s only because Rex and I stayed up for nights on end to care for him that he made it through. I glance down his side to look at his wound. It is all closed now, and he has a nasty scar, but I suspect that the emotional trauma is still affecting him. Blain had laughed at me when I had mentioned that I thought the animal had some sort of post-traumatic stress, but he doesn’t know Fluffy like I do, and hasn’t seen the intelligence shining through his feline eyes. Rex had agreed with me, which is why even though Fluffy is almost healed, he still stays separate from the other animals.
I rub behind his large ears and smile as he purrs and pushes himself farther into my hands, my body vibrating from the force of his purr. Rex crouches next to me, and the large cat moves from me to his human brother, pushing him to the floor as he tries to climb into his lap. Rex chuckles and I struggle to hide my laugh at the image. Fluffy shoots me an indignant look, and I swear he sticks his tongue out at me before curling up awkwardly in Rex’s lap. This is a feat in itself since Fluffy is larger than me, but watching the two of them together makes my heart melt. Rex’s eyes meet mine as he strokes Fluffy soothingly.
“You’re going to be alright, brother,” he reassures, and although his words are addressed to the cat, I know he is also talking to me. Telling me that Fluffy will be fine, that we will all be okay.
“Alcide wants us together. Family meeting,” I say quietly, not wanting to interrupt, but knowing it’s important.
“Okay, I’ll be five minutes.” I nod at his words and start to leave the curtained off area. A distressed noise has me turning back to see Fluffy watching me.
“I’ll be back to see you later, gorgeous.” I blow a kiss his way and wave at him, giggling as his tail raises and waves at me in return.
As I leave the animal tent, after extracting myself from a cuddle pile of the other animals, I can’t help but wonder how on earth people don’t think that animals are intelligent. I am so engrossed in my thoughts that I don’t notice someone approaching me until I’m in their shadow. With a shocked gasp I jump back, my skin hardening instinctively to protect me, falling into a defensive stance like Blain taught me.
“Rhea.”
The deep voice registers with me first, I know that voice. I begin to recognize the large figure in front of me as someone I know, not some unknown person here to attack me and my family. My frantic heartbeat starts to slow, my breathing calming.
“Nixon,” I breathe, walking into his open arms and burying my face in his chest as I force myself to calm down.
I still train with Blain and the others, and knowing that I can protect myself and my family has helped, but I still worry. I don’t like being alone, and being caught by surprise tends to send me into fight or flight mode. If anyone can understand that, it’s Nixon. Everybody says that his power is strength, and while I think that is part of it, I believe that it is more than that. He is always where I need him, like he knew where to be. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, people pay attention.
I glance up once my breathing has calmed and see only acceptance in Nixon’s eyes.
“Sorry,” I say as I pull away, but he catches my hand in his, rolling his eyes at my apology, which I know is his way of telling me that I’m being silly. Pulling me along with him, we head towards Alcide’s tent. We are silent on the walk, some people would feel the need to chat, to fill the silence, but Nixon and I don’t need to talk to feel close.
Alcide is the last one to enter the tent, Rex having arrived shortly after Nixon and me. We hadn’t spoken about what happened with H.O.P.E., or about why I was sitting in Nixon’s lap. When I was taken by the breeders, Nixon was the one to save me, so I felt safer with him around. After the attack, when we had thought we had lost him, I kept getting flashbacks where he wasn’t around anymore, or that I had been taken again. It took weeks for me to stop feeling the need to keep checking up on him. I used to sit in his lap and simply let him hold me. I still struggle, but I’m getting better.
Alcide pauses when he sees me sitting in Nixon’s lap, and looks like he is going to ask a question before Rex clears his throat and shakes his head. I can feel Blain and Alcide’s eyes on me, but I ignore their questioning gazes.
“Tell us what happened at the meeting,” Alcide commands. I bristle at the order in his tone, but I can see that he is struggling with something, so I let it slide.
“Harpy’s friend is part of some fucking rebellion that’s going to get us all killed,” Blain retorts, pushing up from his seat on the edge of a trunk, before pacing the small space within the tent.
There is a stunned silence from everyone in the room as their gazes
fall on me, expressions ranging from shock to anger. I bite down on my lip, feeling uncomfortable under their stares, until I feel Nixon’s arms tighten around me.
“Lilianna is part of a group called H.O.P.E. It’s a group fighting for women, they are trying to change things, and they are training women to fight.” Silence once again meets my words.
Alcide stands and starts pacing, although with both him and Blain walking up and down the small space, it’s making my head hurt watching them.
“What did they want?” Rex asks quietly, his expression guarded. I hadn’t expected him to look so wary about it, and the somber atmosphere in the tent is weighing on me. Even Jesse seems deflated.
“We just asked them about Christmas. They didn’t want anything.”
Blain laughs, but it’s a dark laugh void of all humour. “They wanted to fucking recruit you, Harpy. You may not have seen the calculating look in that woman’s eyes, but I did. They are dangerous!”
Alcide and even Rex nod their heads in agreement.
“I understand that, I’m not stupid Blain,” I retort, and I do understand that what H.O.P.E. is doing is dangerous. They are training warriors and could very well start a war. War is what ruined the world in the first place, so the prospect of another one sends shivers down my spine. I agree that the way women are treated is wrong and needs to change, but I’m not sure if fighting is the way to do it. “What we do every day, our shows, the message that we send, that is also dangerous. We can’t just hide from the world, you guys have taught me that.”
I look around the room, gauging their reactions. Blain looks like he wants to argue, but it’s Alcide who I focus on. As the ringmaster, he is our leader, so he will decide what we do next. Climbing from Nixon’s lap, I walk over to Alcide and stand in front of him, stopping his restless pacing by gently placing my hand on his chest.
“We are in no danger from them, they will leave us alone.” I glance around him and see Jesse’s dejected face. “Can Jesse tell you what we learned about Christmas now, before he explodes?”
My words have the desired effect as I see his eyes light up and an excited whoop comes from his direction. The tension in the tent dissolves, but I can still feel Alcide’s gaze on me. I look up at him, we are only inches apart, and his expression tells me that this is not the end of this discussion, but for now, he will let us have this moment of happiness.
Chapter Five
I sit by the fire pit next to the cook’s tent with Jesse sitting opposite me, staring into the flames as my mind tries to come to terms with the events of the day. The mug cradled between my hands is filled with soup, and the warmth seeps through me. Before the war, there was something called seasons, times of the year where the weather was different. There was summer, where it was hot, the grass was green and flowers bright. Then there was winter, where there was something called snow, frozen rain that covered the ground in a white layer. Spring and autumn were seasons in between, full of colours that I could only dream of.
Frederick, my master before I joined the circus, used to tell me stories of these seasons. I used to latch on to every word, which I think is why he would tell them to me. No one from the old world wanted to hear about what they had lost, so the only time he got the chance to talk about everything was when I was around. He wouldn’t tell me much, only snippets, but I would dream of this past world, the only bit of colour in my life, so controlled and rigid. Of course, I had to keep working, pretend that I was more interested in my task, whatever menial job I had been assigned. I would be punished if I didn’t complete it to Frederick’s high standards, and I never liked being in his presence, but these moments made him seem softer, more human. I never told anyone for fear of the consequences. Since the bombs dropped the seasons had changed, now we simply have the heat.
During the day it’s hot, the sun scorching the land and taking anyone foolish enough to be out in its harsh rays during the peak of the day. The dust in the air creates hazy clouds, and any rain that falls will burn your skin if you remain in it for too long. There are ways of filtering it so the water is safe to drink, but there is no way to protect from acid rain as it falls. Alcide once told me that there was something called the ozone, which was a protective layer around the world that stopped it from getting too hot, and after the world was destroyed, it heated up. We have the scorch, the hottest time of the year, but it never really gets cold. Some evenings, once the sun has set, it gets cool. We are about midway through the year, the furthest away from the scorch, and tonight the temperature has dropped, so the warm soup is comforting.
“Everything okay, Firecracker?” Jesse asks, bringing my attention back to reality. “Ready for your very first Circus Christmas?” His excitement palpable. When Alcide conceded that we could have our very own Christmas, I know he only allowed it to give us something to look forward to. After last month, we all deserve a happy occasion to celebrate.
“Yeah, it should be fun. I’m still not sure what we are supposed to do for it though. Is there a guide on how to do it in your magazine?” I inquire, still unsure how Christmas works.
“I don’t think you need one, Rhea. From what I read, I think Christmas is different for everyone, but the most important thing is being with your family,” he explains, carefully flicking through the magazine which is crumbling in his hands.
“Isn’t every day Christmas then? I mean, we are together every day, as a family,” I muse, confused.
Jesse looks puzzled for a second before laughing a little, even Nixon, sitting silently next to me, smiles and gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
“I hadn’t thought of that. I think Christmas is more of a celebration, a time to be thankful for the people around you.”
Jesse continues to tell us about what our Christmas should be like, coming up with ideas and suggestions. Some of the others from camp even join in with their own ideas. Alcide and Rex had left the campfire a while ago, the latter to check on the animals. I had no idea what Alcide was doing, but he had looked troubled. I know he sees H.O.P.E. as a threat, but I don’t think they will bother us.
Nixon had been very quiet during the meeting. That in and of itself is nothing new, but I just have a feeling that something is bothering him. Finishing up my soup, I turn to look at him and see that his eyes are already on me.
“Walk with me?” I ask softly, and he nods in agreement, standing and offering his hands to help pull me up. Disposing of our soup bowls, we say goodnight to the others still sitting around the fire, and walk off in the direction of the sleeping tents.
We stroll in silence for a while, our hands linked, and I enjoy the peace that fills me as gentle light from the moon illuminates our path. We reach his tent, and he raises an eyebrow at me, silently asking if I’m staying with him tonight. Smiling, I just push my way into his tent. Ever since I joined the circus, I have had my own tent, but I feel so much more comfortable sleeping with one of the guys. My nightmares are always further away with one of them close by.
Looking around the tent, I smile, running my hands over the lush fabrics that decorate the space. I was surprised when I first stayed in Nixon’s tent, turns out my silent giant has an eye for decorating. The bed in the centre of the tent has a beautiful woven throw, and dangling from the walls are several decorative wall hangings, all with beautiful patterns, making the space feel more homely.
I hear him moving behind me, and when I turn I see he is sitting on the edge of the bed. I go to sit next to him, although something in his eyes makes me pause.
“Nix, what’s wrong?” I’m not sure if he will answer me, if he is able to put into words what he is feeling.
“I have nothing to give you.” His deep voice is quiet, and I almost don’t catch his words. His gaze is focused on the floor, avoiding my eyes. Stunned, I am rooted to the spot. Not at the fact that he answered me, but that he felt he needed to give me something. “Everyone is going to be giving gifts to those they love, and I have nothing to give you.” His words have my
heart beating out of my chest and aching for him.
“Nixon.” I walk towards him and drop to my knees. Reaching up, I place my hands on his face, raising his eyes to meet mine, and my heart breaks a little at the sadness on his face. Not to mention that he just implied he loved me. Nixon’s life before the circus was cruel and harsh, yet he chose to turn in on himself rather than become like the men around him. That he can open himself up enough to love another makes me speechless. I lean forward and decide to show him how I feel.
As my lips touch his, they are gentle, moving against his lightly until I feel him respond. I deepen our kiss, pushing him so he is leaning back, his hands supporting him as I straddle his lap. Taking the lead, I guide our kisses, my hands running down his chest. There are too many clothes. My fingers come to the buttons on his shirt and fumble with them, trying to rid him of the layer between us.
“Rhea.” His voice is soft, out of breath, and there is a note of warning there. “Stop, I don’t know if I can control myself.”
“I know you won’t hurt me,” I reassure him, kissing him again until I hear him groan and he starts to kiss me back.
I finish unbuttoning his shirt and push it off his shoulders, leaving his chest bare. He is covered in scars, but I know the worst of them are on his back, whip marks like the ones on mine. I gently push on his shoulders, and he shuffles back on the bed with me still in his lap, causing a small shriek of surprise before he leans back, as I remain straddling his hips. My eyes run over his chest, and I lean forward, kissing each one of his scars on his chest. A small, pained noise comes from his throat, and I immediately sit up and notice his eyes are screwed shut. I know he has a problem with being touched, something I found out fairly recently, and I immediately feel guilty.
“Nixon, I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” My words come out in a rush, and I clasp my hands to stop from touching him.
