Taming The Ringmaster

by Erin O'Kane

  Panic claws at me and I turn in my seat, facing Alcide, my eyes begging. “Do something,” I hiss.

  I feel Xavier looking at me, and Nixon’s hand lands on my thigh, but I concentrate on our ringmaster. He stares at me, his eyes calculating, and I can see him discarding idea after idea, until his face settles into a blank mask.

  “Stay here, cariño, and whatever happens, trust your family. Trust me,” he whispers, before standing. Even though he’s in rags like the rest of us, he straightens out his clothes—wrinkles dare not exist with him—and he holds his head high. If I didn’t know him, and without his ringmaster costume, I would mistake him for another rich man in this city. But a fire, a fire they can’t put out, burns in his eyes as he steps to the end of the aisle and faces the guards.

  “Take me to the Masters’ box,” he calls, his voice ringing around the arena. I watch the animals respond to that, slowly stepping from their cages.

  “Sit down, slave,” one of the guards spits, stroking the baton at his waist.

  “They will want to hear what I have to say, take me now,” Alcide replies. I don’t know if it’s the confidence or the words, but the guard looks at the Masters’ box before grabbing his arm and pulling him along to it. Alcide throws me one last look, searching my eyes—for what, I don’t know—before he disappears from view.

  Turning to face the front, I grab Nixon’s hand and squeeze tightly, my body almost shaking with the need to reach for my powers and protect what is mine. Our animals circle each other in the middle, protecting each other like always as the armed guards close in. Herding them, taunting them.

  I hope whatever Alcide does, he does it fast. My heart skips a beat when one of the guards throws a spear straight at Fluffy, but he dodges it and swipes out at the guard. No, no, no. They are taunting them, trying to provoke them into fighting before they kill them.

  Another guard unravels a whip from his side and starts smacking the ground as he walks. Fluffy growls as Tiny stomps.

  I gasp, my eyes unwilling to look away as they lunge towards him. Only when I feel a hand squeeze mine do I look down in confusion. I have my hand in Xavier’s, squeezing hard, and he is holding it back, his fingers twined with mine, letting me take out my frustration and worry. I want to snatch it back, but my eyes slowly rise to his to find him watching me. Something passes from him to me then, our gazes locked together...an understanding?

  The sound of a whip has me spinning in my seat, Xavier forgotten, and focusing back on the arena. The guard’s whip flies in the air towards Tiny, but Sid throws himself in front of it, taking the lash himself.

  Fury like never before rises within me. My body shakes, my ears fill with white noise, and I don’t even realise I am on my feet.

  “Slave, sit down before I make you!” I hear the yell as if from far away.

  “Now, slave!” he yells again. My head slowly turns, my eyes locking on his.

  “Rhea, sit down,” Nixon hisses, yanking on me. I let him and I fall into my seat, my powers so close I can almost touch them, but held at bay by the bracelets on my arms.

  My eyes drop the bracelets, but I freeze when I spot something green at my feet. Leaning down closer, I cover my movement as if I am sucking in air. There, between my legs, touching one of my feet, is a small green bud on a vine, poking through the concrete...how did that get there? My powers seem to dissolve then, and I watch in wide-eyed shock as the bud does also. Did...did I do that?

  I glance at the bracelets in confusion...if I got mad enough...if I pushed enough...could I break them? It was only for a moment, a small crack of power leaking out and into the ground, but could it be enough to free us?

  I shake my head, reminding myself to worry about that and my obviously new power later. I glance back up at the arena to see the animals curling into a circle together, no longer fighting back, just watching the guards warily.

  The armed guards try to provoke them, but the animals are having none of it. In fact, Fluffy goes as far as to yawn in their face, both showing of his impressive teeth and dismissing them. The guards stop and look at the Masters.

  Obviously enraged about the lack of results, a Master stands up. “Take the animals away! Maybe not feeding them will work! Slaves, back to your cells!” he screams.

  We are pushed towards the guards in two single lines again. I stumble and glare at the guard, but he snaps the baton across my back again and I start moving, my eyes still searching for Alcide. When I find him, I blink, confused at what I am seeing and unwilling to believe it.

  His eyes meet mine and they are cold, so cold I shake. He is sitting next to Arthur and Chester, sipping from a chalice and laughing with them as they watch us be herded like animals. He watches us go, with no familiarity, no love or kindness in his eyes.

  Is he playing them? Charming them...or has our ringmaster decided to throw his support to the Masters? Has he seen a lost cause? Everyone always told me he knows how to survive, that he can weather anything...has he abandoned us to this storm and found shelter in riches?

  We are thrown back into our cells and left alone for hours. I get bored and pace the edge of the bars. I can feel Nixon and Xavier watching me, but I pay them no mind. My mind keeps flicking back to the cold look of our ringmaster and the thought of them starving our animals. I feel like I’m going crazy. We are left locked up, and while most slaves seem to just go to sleep, including Xavier, I am left with nothing to occupy my time.

  I sit, I lie, I pace, before doing it all again. Nixon watches me silently the whole time.

  “No food tonight! Lights out!” comes a shout a couple of hours later. Some of the other slaves groan or complain, but no one fights back against the guard. Everyone settles in for the night, but I’m still restless, so when over an hour later, two unfamiliar guards head my way with a torch and keys, I am waiting.

  I step back into the middle of the cell as they silently unlock the door and gesture for me to come out. I have a feeling this is to meet Chester, so I throw Nixon a reassuring smile. He’s on his feet at the bars again, but calmer this time, so I am guessing he had one of his feelings. That more than anything reassures me, and I step out into the hallway as they slam the cell shut and lock it.

  The guard holding the keys pushes me along, dragging me past the bathroom and to the private room again. Once there, he throws me inside and slams the door in my face. Blowing out a breath, I turn to see Chester already staring at the setup chess board. When I step closer, I realise he has started a new game and is waiting for me.

  I slip into the seat and make my move, staying quiet, letting him simmer in silence. I have to coax him, use him, and manipulate him. Easy, right?

  We play silently for a while before he sits back with a sigh, rubbing at his eyes. “You look tired,” I say softly.

  I feel him staring, so I duck my head and concentrate on the game, making my move before I sit back and face him, giving myself some time to school my expression. Anger is still running through me and I have to hide it.

  “I don’t sleep well,” he replies, and I sense there is more to it than that. Does he want to share? Maybe if he opens up, I can use that weakness against him. Get him to see me as a person.

  “Why not?” I ask.

  He remains silent, his eyes begging me not to drag up his pain, but I need it, I need his pain and his trust. As much as I hate him, I need him and his help.

  “Who did you lose? You told me I reminded you of someone, someone who saw under your mask, who you would have done anything for. Family...a wife?” He clenches his jaw then. “No...a daughter,” I finish, and he looks away. I know I’m right. “What was her name?”

  “Marie, her name was Marie.” Every word is harsh, like it has been pulled from deep inside, his pain too great to keep locked away when faced with my questions. He needs to talk, he wants to talk, maybe that’s why he brought me here without even realising it. He needs someone who can understand, someone who can’t use it against him. He needs a place of
vulnerability, and whether he or even I like it, this is it, and I can use that against him...if I am cut-throat enough. But all it takes is the thought of my animals, my family locked up and wasting away, and I realise I am. I would do anything, be anything for them. They taught me how to love, how live again, and I won’t dishonour that now by being weak when they need me.

  I think of Blain and his knives. I will be sharp like them, brutal and unforgiving. Of Rex, and his speed and strength. I will hit strong and true like that. Of Jessie and his fun-loving nature. I will hide behind it...of Nixon and his unwavering loyalty, and Alcide and his charm. I have learned it all, and though they might not be my powers, I will gladly use them now.

  “What happened to her?” I inquire softly. I truly do feel sorry for him and I let that show.

  He sucks in a shaky breath, his eyes falling to the board like he’s unable to bear looking at me as he speaks, pain and guilt lacing each word.

  “She was killed, simply for being her,” he admits, and even from here I see the tears swimming in his eyes, wetting his lashes.

  “I’m sorry, were you close?” I press, even though I know the answer.

  “Yes, she was my little girl. I doted on her, more than I probably should, but she was so perfect, our miracle girl. We thought we could never have kids, and then she came along…” He pauses then and moves his piece, his eyes taking on a faraway look.

  “I did everything I could to protect her. I sold my soul to the devil for it, and yet it didn’t save her. Now I’m stuck with the devil...and he holds all the power.” He looks up then. “No one gets free of him, don’t you know? Wealthy or slave, we are all just his playthings, and sooner or later he comes to collect what is his.”

  I blink at him, but he seems to shake it off and nod at the board. I move a piece distractedly and he tuts. “Bad move,” he admonishes.

  “Do you regret it...selling your soul?” I ask, using his metaphor.

  He fingers a rook as he thinks. “No...no, I would do it again because that extra time I had with her made it worth it, but now I must pay the price and I am afraid, Rhea, you are involved in that,” he murmurs softly.

  I go quiet then, thinking through what he has said as we carry on the game, but I am distracted and he easily beats me. “Don’t worry, I will give you another chance to win,” he offers.

  “Thank you, I would like that.” I stand then, knowing they will come for me soon. “Chester?” I call, needing to get out what I wanted before I leave, even if the mood is somber.

  “Yes?” he replies, looking up at me.

  “Those animals, they are my family, they are innocents. Will you at least see that they are fed?”

  He worries on his bottom lip. “I will try.”

  “Thank you. I fear what I would do if I was to lose them...my family are my entire world. You understand that, and anyone threatening them is merely an obstacle to overcome.”

  He nods, watching me with sharp eyes. “And I work for that obstacle, so we know where we both stand.”

  I guess we do. We are both trapped in this game, each move resulting in either death or another day of survival. I turn around and head for the door, with nothing else left to say.

  “Goodnight, Rhea,” he calls softly, and I turn to see him staring off into space again, his words echoing around me.

  Who is the devil...and what did he sell his soul for?

  For her? For Marie?

  “Goodnight,” I say back, turning as the door opens to reveal a grinning Trent.

  I would sell my soul to any devil to save my family. I guess, in that respect, we are the same. Rich...slave...we are all at the mercy of our decisions, and my decisions led me here...will they lead me from here as well?

  I don’t sleep well that night, my mind replaying yesterday’s events, consumed by my fear for the animals, my animals. People never understand when I say they are like family to us, but I dare them to look into their eyes and say they are ‘just’ animals. They are freaks, the same as us, and part of that is having a more human-like intelligence. They know more than they should and act in a way you wouldn’t expect from a ‘normal’ animal. I hope Chester will honour his promise and try to keep the animals out of the fights, but the Masters will have figured out by now that they can use the animals against us.

  When the guards stalk into the dark room and smack the cell bars with their batons, I am already awake and sitting at the front of the cell, leaning against the iron rods as my mind races.

  “Wake up, freaks. It’s a special day today!” Trent appears in my line of sight, his face split into a sick grin as his eyes sparkle with dark glee, sauntering towards my cell. Licking his lips, his eyes roam up and down my body, and I have to fight the urge to shudder. I won’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing he has this effect on me. “Today is a historic day,” he continues, his voice loud for all to hear, but I know his words are directed at me. “Our first female freak will be fighting.” The room seems to fall silent as I absorb his words, my mind falling equally as quiet. Taking another step forward so he is almost pressed against the bars, Trent lowers his voice so he’s talking just to me. “Ready to show us what you’ve got, little slave?”

  This time, I can’t hide the shudder that runs through me, and he laughs as he slaps his hands together in glee. “I’ve got a bet going on how long you’re going to last. I think ten minutes, max.” His sneer makes me narrow my eyes and I stand up, leaning against the bars with my arms crossed to show him exactly what I think of him. If that’s what he thinks, then I’m going to show him precisely what I’m made of. I’m sure as hell not some meek slave girl, and I’ll use their prejudices against them. “Shame, really, to waste a body like yours in the ring. I’m sure I could think of better uses for it…”

  “Trent! Stop fucking around, we don’t have time for messing with the slaves,” the other guard shouts from the opposite side of the room, causing Trent to let out a growl of frustration. He pushes away from my cage and stalks over to the other guard. “After the attack on the city last night, they want to make an example of the slaves. They are sure there is some rebellion scum in here.” The words are whispered, but I catch them. Attack? This rebellion must have been behind it, and they seem to think that some of the rebellion are in here. Storing the information away for later, I look around to see if anyone else hears it and I see Xavier looking directly at me, nodding once.

  Letting out a deep breath, I lean against the bars, my body slumping now that Trent has gone. That relief doesn’t last long, though, as I registered what he said. I’m fighting today. No. No, no, no. I can’t fight, I have no training, I’m going to be killed instantly, and even if by some chance I win, can I really kill someone? My thoughts race and I have to grip on to the bars to keep me upright as panic threatens to overtake me. I’m aware of someone moving beside me, but thankfully no one touches me.

  “Don’t let them see you like this.” I hear a voice, but I can’t quite register who it is. “Snap out of it, Rhea!” The harsh words pull me out of my panicked state, my eyebrows pulling together in a frown as I turn my gaze on the owner of the voice.

  Xavier is standing the other side of the bars I’m leaning against, his hands clutching the rods on either side of me, his knuckles white with the force of his grip. My awareness starts to come back and I’m conscious of Nixon calling my name from the cell behind me, but I keep my gaze on Xavier in front of me.

  The sound of the cells being opened on the other side of the room reaches us, and I eventually take a step back from Xavier, turning to face a worried-looking Nixon as we wait for our cells to open. A shout rings out around the room and I frown, moving to the front of the cell to see what’s going on, but I can’t see anything. Whatever’s happening is on the side of the area I can’t see. The noises get louder and more shouts ring out, more guards flood into the space, all heading towards the back. My stomach twists in knots, since the other guys are over in that part of the room.

&nb
sp; Trent strides to our side of the room, his fury evident as he looks around at us in disgust while the sound of slamming cell doors fills the space. “Thanks to some of your fellow freaks, your mealtime privileges have been revoked.” Groaning fills the room, but no one sounds surprised, obviously this has happened before. “Save your fighting for the arena! Remember that you only eat because we say you can.” His eyes land on me before flicking to Xavier, his expression darkening before he stalks off.

  My stomach growls in protest at the thought of receiving no food, especially since we didn’t eat last night. My thoughts once again flash to the fact I’m going to be fighting today. Exhaustion runs through me, my limbs feeling weak as I raise my hands to rub my face. How am I supposed to fight like this? The only bonus is that whoever I fight will be feeling just as weak as me. My thoughts run in circles and I push myself to my feet, circling the small cell. What will the guys do if I die? It would kill them, especially Nixon.

  “Don’t start thinking like that.” A dark presence appears at my shoulder and I know it’s Xavier without having to look.

  Continuing my circuit of the cell like a caged animal, I keep my eyes on my path. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re already thinking like you’re going to lose.” The anger in his voice has me stopping, and a frown pulls at my brow as I glance over at him. “Think like that and you will lose.” I’ve seen Xavier angry before, it seems to be his default setting, but there is something different about his anger this time.

  “How am I supposed to win? What if they pit me against one of my guys?” The hopelessness of the situation hits me. “I’m not a warrior like you!”

  “You don’t want to be like me. Stay true to you, otherwise, they will turn you into a mindless killing machine like me.” His self-loathing is clear to hear, and it makes me frown. Although I don’t really know him, he’s like us, and it makes me want to comfort him.

  “You’re not like that.” There is a confidence in my voice that makes my comment into a statement, and I find that I believe every word of it. He may be harsh, brutal, and deadly, but I bet he thinks of every person he has been forced to kill. A mindless killing machine wouldn’t do that, they would revel in the death. Xavier doesn’t. He pretends that it doesn’t affect him, but it does, I can see it.