by Emmy Grace
“I meant of my catnip-ness.”
“Oh. That.”
“I didn’t think you were jealous of Jonah. Why would you be?”
“That’s what I was saying.”
“Oh.” Why do I find this weird? “Okay, ready to go again?”
“Do I have a choice?”
I grin as I pet Lucy. “Nope.”
Liam gets back into position and I slide knives into my waistband. I’ll have to grab them and fling them out from there with Lucy crawling all over me.
I’m nearly ready to throw when I hear a familiar voice drifting across the practice field.
“Of all the things I ever thought I’d witness,” Regina says.
I’m smiling when I turn and spot her coming toward me. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw where you’d called and I tried to call back. Why didn’t you answer?”
“I must not have heard the phone ring. I’m a little distracted, ya know.”
I pat the weapons at my waist.
“What did you need?”
“I was going to have you bring Lucy to me, but as you can see, she’s here.”
Regina shoots a look of disdain to my cat. “I see. But why is she here?”
“We needed her for our act.”
“But you’re throwing knives.”
“Throwing knives…with a twist.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her, which probably looks extra comical since they’re painted up like a gorgeous skeleton.
“Oh, this I’ve got to see.”
“Don’t distract her,” says Liam from a few feet away at the wheel.
“I won’t, I won’t. I’ll be quiet as a mouse.” She holds her fingers up to her lips and backs away and I grab my cat. I look into her eyes, like I can telepathically get her to understand what we’re doing.
“You ready, Lucy?” She just stares at me with her glowing green eyes, but in my head, she nods.
A flush races up from my chest to make my face hot. Sweat pops out across my forehead. I tuck Lucy under one arm and wipe the moisture from my skin with the back of my hand.
I take a deep, cooling breath and heft Lucy-fur up onto my shoulder. When I say go, I straighten out my left arm. As Lucy lopes down it, I fling two knives with my right hand. I move that hand over to my left hand, making a bridge for the cat, which she happily takes before racing up my right arm to perch on my shoulder. I fling two more knives. We repeat the process, my targets getting lower on Liam. I reach for the last of two knives to fling between Liam’s leg. Just as I’m releasing the first one, Regina squeals. I suppose it’s out of fear for the man parts of Tasty Cakes. I think she’d take it personally if I turned him into a eunuch. Unfortunately, she makes the sound at just the right—or wrong—time, and my hand twitches in response.
The knife goes streaking across to land deep in the wood about three inches from Liam’s foot. Not at all where I was aiming.
“Good God, woman!” he growls.
I gasp, clapping one hand over my mouth.
I turn to glare at Regina, who is staring, wide-eyed, at the runaway knife.
There’s absolute silence for about thirty seconds before Regina clears her throat and starts backing away again. “I think I’d better go. Let you practice in peace.”
I’m breathing heavily, even though I’m not sure why. “I think that’s best.”
Liam just growls again.
When she’s gone, I turn back to Liam. “Sorry.”
Man, does that sound lame.
“Focus, Lucky. For the love of God, focus.”
I nod, taking a few deep breaths. “Lord, it’s hot,” I say, fanning my face. “It might be hotter here than it is in Louisiana at this time of year.”
“You’re wearing Saran wrap, for chrissake. What did you expect?”
Oh.
Duh.
My sweat suit.
I would never admit it, but I did actually forget I had it on. Regina was right about that.
I wipe my face again and get Lucy into position. This time, it goes off without a hitch. When we’re done—successfully and without bloodshed—I pull Lucy down into my arms and give her some reward loving.
“Lucy’s such a good girl. You’re so smart,” I tell her as I hold her up and rub my face in her soft fur. It’s slick and cool and feels really, really good against my feverish skin.
Behind me, a slow golf clapping starts. I look around and see that Allanda and a few others were watching.
“Very nice,” she says. Behind her is another woman. She’s older, and unless I’m mistaken, she’s the small person that was talking to Jonah night before last as he followed her on his stilts. His mother, I believe.
“Rodney would’ve loved this one,” the tiny woman says, her eyes trained on me. She’s smiling pleasantly enough. I would never guess she’s being malicious, but judging by Allanda’s reaction, she is. Must be some sort of inside thing going on between them.
“Rodney loved me, Shari,” Allanda hisses venomously. “He wouldn’t have given her the time of day.” After glowering at the older woman for a few tense seconds, Allanda looks to me. “No offense.”
“None taken.” I could care less if a detestable circus clown would’ve been interested in me. The fewer men in my life, the better.
The older woman walks away, but she looks smug. She knows she rattled Allanda.
“What was that all about?” I ask the younger woman when the other has gone.
Allanda flips her hair in a flustered gesture. “That’s Shari. She and Rodney had a thing a long time ago. She thought she knew him best. Like she had some sort of claim on him or tie to him or something. But she was wrong. Rodney loved me. He would never have left me.”
He would never have left me.
That’s an interesting thing to say, considering that the only thing being discussed was whether Rodney would’ve liked me.
“Did Shari say that he was going to or something?”
“That woman is full of crap. You can’t believe a word she says. Just remember that.”
“Is she Jonah’s mother?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so. He mentioned that he’d grown up in the circus.”
“Yeah. He’s a good kid.”
“Kid? Aren’t you two about the same age?”
“Close.”
“You two ever have a fling?”
“Sure we did. But it was short. He wasn’t right for me.”
Sure we did.
Alrighty then.
“Any hard feelings on his part?”
“Not that I know of.” Her expression falls into one of concern. “Why? Do you think he could’ve had something to do with Rodney’s murder?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just asking questions, taking it all in.”
I hate to think that Jonah could be capable of something like this, but now I have to add him to the list of possible suspects, even if it’s a long shot.
When the silence stretches on uncomfortably, Allanda attempts a smile. “Well, I guess I’d better let you practice. The act’s looking good.”
Her eyes dart over my shoulder, toward Liam I presume, before she turns around and walks off.
Liam is stepping off the wheel when I make my way over to him.
“Did you hear that?”
He nods. “I did.”
“Looks like this place might be full of suspects.”
“A lot of people with motive, but only one killer.”
Casually, I let my eyes scan all the people I can see from my vantage point, which is quite a few since I can see a lot of the camp, too. “The million-dollar question is which one hated Rodney enough to want him crushed?”
12
Liam and I spend the remainder of the morning and early afternoon practicing again and again. We even do it a couple of times with Liam spinning, which isn’t his favorite thing in the world. I can tell because each time we do it, he gets quieter and quieter.
By the t
ime we’re told to begin getting ready for the matinee, we’re more comfortable with it. Comfortable but exhausted. Or at least I am. I think Lucy-fur is, too. She keeps pinning her ears back when I set her on my shoulder. But she keeps doing what I want her to do, and that’s the main thing. Just a few more times and our first day at the circus will be over.
Boudreau goes over the basics of how and when things will work—who will roll out and position the wheel, how we will be announced, how we are to enter, and what’s expected of us during that time.
I’m a nervous wreck by the time Liam and I are introduced. I’m sweating bullets, and I can’t be sure if it’s from anxiety or this stupid suit I’m wearing. Every time I move, I feel like I’m in my own personal slip and slide. By the time this night is over, I’m going to need a pair of scissors and a squeegee just to get out of this thing.
But I suck it up because right now I have much more important things to worry about than some mild—or embarrassingly copious—sweating.
Liam and I stride out, hand in hand. Lucy-fur is perched on my shoulder. I’m trying to walk carefully, but it must not be careful enough for her, because she’s hanging on for dear life.
With claws.
I’ll have two-dozen tiny puncture wounds to prove it.
Part of me is grateful for the ventilation, though. I feel like I’m in a pressure cooker.
The lights are bright as we make our way into position, but not so bright that I can’t see the crowd that’s filling the stands. For a few seconds, I’m bedazzled. It’s like living inside one of my many childhood dreams. Most of them centered around performance of some sort—ballerina, circus act, member of Blue Man Group (one day they’ll have to have a woman, right?)—until I got older and started poking around in criminal investigations. But still, even after all this time, this fulfills some deep-seated need in me, and I drink it in.
The people clap and cheer, and I smile and wave an arm. Liam does the same, only he isn’t smiling. Of course, he’s not smiling. If he were, I’d assumed he’d been drugged.
I hear a familiar squall and I look in that general direction until I spot Regina bouncing up and down like she’s on a pogo stick. Suzie Lynn is beside her with both arms stretched high overhead as she waves like a lunatic.
Despite my rising body temperature and the makeup that won’t come off, despite being punked by some old people and being attacked by a housewife last night, my smile gets bigger.
I love my friends.
Ominous music begins to play. It’s definitely got a circus flair to it, but it’s not the happy, light notes I normally associate with these events. It does a great job of setting the mood for something dangerous.
A little shiver passes through me.
If I miss, this could very well be dangerous.
But I won’t miss.
I won’t miss, right? I’m Lucky Boucher.
Emphasis on the “lucky.”
I give Liam a tremulous smile as he starts to move away from me and toward the wheel. He knows me well enough to know that the gesture isn’t genuine.
He steps back to me quickly and leans in. “Just like we practiced. You’ll do great.”
“Of course, I will,” I say with false bravado. And then, “Right?”
“Right. Of course, you will.”
I nod and exhale, trying not to shake my hands as my anxiety rises. “I just…” I take a breath and let it go in huffed segments, like Lamaze.
“You just what?”
“I might be on the verge of a teeny tiny panic attack.”
I feel light headed.
Liam grips my arms. “Lucky, this is no different than what we practiced. Ignore everyone out there. Focus on me, okay?” He bends down to meet my eyes. He stares into them intensely, like he’s trying to zoom some calm confidence through my eyeballs and into my brain. “Just look right at me.”
I gaze into his eyes. He breathes with me, but slower, and after a few seconds, I match his cadence. I can feel my muscles loosening ever so slightly.
I nod. “Okay. I got this. Let’s just get it over with.”
He keeps looking at me as he backs away, like he’s trying to impart one last bit of oomph. I grab onto it with both hands and tuck it into my tight chest.
I reach up to scratch Lucy-fur behind her ears, and do my best to ignore the claps and chants and rustling coming from all sides as the crowd winds up.
“Okay, Lucy, here we go,” I tell her, plastering a big smile on my face.
I throw the first set with the cat stationary. It goes off without a hitch, which bolsters my confidence a bit.
The second, I do with Lucy. Just like we practiced, I bend and straighten my arms as she moves along them in a circuit that ends around my neck. It, too, goes smoothly and quickly.
I raise a hand at the applause that roars through the stands, and I walk to Liam to retrieve the knives for the third part.
The spinning round.
“You’re doing great,” he says, one corner of his mouth lifting up. This must be Liam’s version of a pep talk and reassuring smile.
I need to have a chat with him about the smile part.
“One more and done,” I quip lightly.
“You got this.” He nods as if that’s the final word.
I nod in return and head back to my spot. Allanda, who volunteered to help with this spinning as we practiced, steps up to the side of the wheel. When I nod at her, she gives it a pull and sets it in motion. Although the audience can’t see it, there’s a tiny motor behind the wheel that’s triggered, and it keeps the wheel moving until Allanda stops it.
Slowly, Liam goes from upright to sideways, to upside down, to sideways again, to upright. Now that I think about it, it’s almost hypnotic to watch his body spin lazily, like sluggish hands on a giant clock.
I hear Allanda hiss my name. “Lucky, do it!”
Her voice jars me out of my strange reverie, and I wiggle my shoulder to ready Lucy. And we begin.
One knife, two knives.
Three, four, five knives.
It’s when I go to throw the last one that it happens.
I don’t see it coming.
It’s just suddenly there.
Something flies up my nose.
Literally.
I jerk. I can’t help it. No one doesn’t react at all when something flies up their nose. No one.
Not even Liam.
Okay, maybe Liam, but he’s not fully human, so that makes sense.
My reaction sets off an awful cascade of events, kind of like when my animals get wound up. Only this happens in the blink of an eye.
Bug flies in nose.
Head jerks.
Cat claws.
Arm twitches.
And knife…
Well, the knife doesn’t go in the exact direction I’d intended for it to go.
The last thing I hear is a not very well-concealed curse. A pained curse. And it’s followed by a word that sounds an awful lot like, “Lucky!”
Uh oh.
I hear a distinct gasping sound, like the whole crowd inhaled at the exact same time. Murmuring so loud it’s almost deafening follows. I tune it out, though. My focus is singular.
Lucy jumps down and hunkers on the ground when I take off across the space that separates me from the irate man who’s trying to get off a moving wheel. I try to follow his body with my eyes, searching for bleeding or evidence of significant internal injury from being stabbed, but I can’t make heads or tails of anything until Allanda stops the wheel and rights Liam.
He’s already half way off the wheel, and when he limps away from it like it bit him in the butt, I see the pale flesh and ooze of blood coming from the inside of his right thigh.
My mouth drops open.
Of all the places to nick…
Liam moves steadily toward me. I might even call it stomping, but it’s hard to stomp when you’re favoring a leg that’s been sliced open.
I start backtracki
ng the closer he gets. I hold out my hands in that universal stop sign that he’s plainly ignoring.
“I didn’t mean to do that. Something flew up my nose.”
“Unless it was a 747, I don’t want to hear about it.”
“It wasn’t, obviously, but it felt like it. It was big. Huge even. And it went all the way in. Probably even penetrated my brain.” I’m nodding rapidly, hoping one of my many hurried words will make a dent in his rising fury.
I stop when he’s almost upon me. I close my eyes and brace for impact.
Impact that never comes.
Cautiously, I crack one lid and then the other. Liam is standing about half a centimeter away from me, silently glaring down at me.
“What are you doing?” he asks tightly.
“Bracing myself.”
“For what?”
“For whatever you’re planning to do to me.”
At that, despite the pain he must be feeling, Liam’s expression falls into one of concerned disbelief. “You really must think I’m a monster.”
That surprises me enough to straighten me up. “Huh?”
“Do you really think I’d ever lay a hand on you, no matter what you did to me?”
I feel like there’s a right answer here, but for whatever reason, it’s eluding me. “I…I don’t know,” I murmur with a shrug.
At first, Liam doesn’t react, but when he does, it makes me feel like a big, steaming pile of poo. He doesn’t say anything; he just slumps a little through his broad shoulders and shakes his head in disappointment. Then he moves around me and walks (or limps) away.
For a few seconds, I’m completely oblivious to what’s happening around me in the circus tent. When I come back to the present moment, the wheel has been moved, the next act is in place and in progress, and Allanda shows up at my side to hustle me out of sight.
“Here, take your cat,” she says, pushing Lucy-fur into my arms.
“What…what are you doing?”
“Getting you out of the way. You can’t just stand around like this. You’re in the way.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
I let her lead me out the back entrance and into the nomadic camp. I glance around for Liam. When I don’t see him, I whirl in a tight one-eighty and start to race off in the opposite direction until Allanda stops me.
