The Reunion

by Michelle E Lowe

  “Is that why you and Joaquin thieved?”

  “It was a slew of things,” he explained softly. “Hunger, the fear of asking for work only to be tossed back into slave labor, and the worry of staying in one area for too long and missing out on finding the family. Joaquin and I worked like clockwork together. Stealing kept us alive, and soon it became our only means of survival.”

  “How do you feel about thieving now?” she asked, greatly interested in his answer.

  He took a few heartbeats to respond.

  “I’m tired. In my heyday, it was all fun and games, but that world doesn’t excite me anymore.” He opened the novel to the first page. “I believe I’m ready for a change.”

  He sounded sincere about giving up this old lifestyle of his as if he’d been debating it for a while.

  The air locked inside her chest when he again turned to her. Those green eyes truly captured her.

  “And I want to keep my arse outta the noose,” he quipped.

  She laughed. He did know how to make her smile.

  Taisia decided right then to stop looking at what she considered was wrong with Pierce and allow herself to find his good qualities. Most of all, she needed to trust him. She pulled the dress and corset out of the rucksack.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “It’s getting cold,” she stated, tossing them into the fireplace.

  The alcove fell dark before the fire burst through the gown and devoured it happily.

  * * *

  Drops leaked through the cracks of the barn roof and fell like small stones on the floor. Rupert Swansea didn’t mind it one bit. He had the infamous Pierce Landcross nearby.

  Rupert had been part of the British Guardians at one time, during which he’d joined up with a brutal albino bastard with a crippled arm named Volker Jäger, a man who wanted nothing more than to get his hands on Landcross. Apparently, Landcross had rubbed the loon the wrong way some years ago. They had searched for him and his brother but never found either of them. Rupert was arrested shortly after the British Guardians were disbanded. People demanded justice for the cruel and unusual punishment the Guardians displayed toward their prisoners. To save himself from the rope, Rupert offered a plea deal, giving up the albino to authorities. Jäger, however, had fled England and vanished.

  Now, Rupert would achieve what Jäger never could and snare Landcross. He had seen many wanted posters and read descriptions about the fugitive throughout the years, and so he had recognized him on the spot at the graveyard when he and the black woman rode up to the mausoleum. It was clear that the Frenchman who had visited the halfwit, Christopher Ainsworth, had been none other than Landcross himself. If Rupert could get him to London, the reward alone would set him up for good. He needed to find out about the woman and if she was worth dragging along. If not, he could have his fun with her just the same before killing her. An exotic beauty such as she would surely be a treat.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Great Cosmas Circus

  The morning remained chilly and damp, but the rain had cleared out and the sun shone in good spirits across the land. Pierce and Taisia rode to Abcoude and traded the box for food and a few supplies at the village store. They continued east, cutting through the wetlands and fields full of brightly-colored flowers. Windmill sails spun lazily in the calm winds. Once in a while, a train horn sounded in the distance. By mid-day, they had arrived in Amersfoort. Nailed to a post of a wooden fence by the roadside was a broadsheet.

  Pierce paid it little mind, but Taisia called fervently, “Pierce, wait. Stop!”

  The moment the horse halted, she jumped off and dashed over to the poster.

  “What is it?” he asked, dismounting.

  “I cannot believe it.” She turned to him. “It’s The Great Cosmas Circus!”

  “The circus your family performed in?”

  She nodded vigorously. “They must have reopened it. Let us go have a look. Just for a few hours?”

  Pierce studied the broadsheet and shrugged. “I don’t see the harm.”

  She wrapped herself around him. “Spasibo!”

  Pierce gleefully hugged her in return.

  They continued on, and soon, hot air balloons came into view. European flags could be seen sticking out from the Big Top tent. A crowd had already accumulated on the road, working their way past the fence gate leading into the farmer’s field where the circus had assembled. Pierce grimaced at the massive line and the fact they had little money. He wasn’t even sure if they could pay for admission. He needed to do some pocket-picking. He had begun scouting those who looked to have a bit of wealth on them when someone called out in Russian.

  “Liliya? Pochemu ty zdes’?” queried a man from the other side of the fence.

  “Izvinite?” Taisia responded.

  The gent, whose body was nothing more than a large, solid mass of muscle, stared at her peculiarly. Pierce reckoned he must be a circus worker, keeping non-payers from sneaking in. From the looks of the giant, Pierce doubted anyone even dared.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “He thinks I’m Liliya, my sister,” Taisia explained. “He’s asking why I am out here.”

  “Grand. Play along. He’ll let us in.”

  She nodded and spoke to the gent in Russian. He pointed at Pierce.

  “Da,” Taisia answered. “Him, too.”

  The human building waved them forward while continuing to speak to her in Russian.

  “He says the mob is too thick at the front gate,” Taisia translated. “Leave our horse with him and climb over. He will bring it in when the crowd clears.”

  Pierce nodded to the man. “Spasibo.”

  The gent gave a curt nod and grunted. Pierce hitched the mount to a post and he and Taisia clambered over. They headed into the mass of brightly painted circus wagons that encircled the Big Top. Beyond the colorful carriages, they spotted others that caged the circus animals. Further in were smaller tents with costumed actors yelling to the spectators to come inside as loud music sounded from the decorative bandwagon. Clowns wandered about, juggling or running around, throwing pies at each other. Magic and freak-show acts were carried out on small stages. Sitting in front of a tent was a naked fat man so large that his stomach, thankfully, covered his naughty bits. A woman, completely branded from head to toe in tattoos, inked in permanent images on paying customers with a mechanical tattoo needle machine. Children tugged at their parents to see this and that. The smell of caramel and roasted peanuts came from food carts. Circus games such as dunking booths and Test Your Strength machines were everywhere. At one point, Pierce and Taisia needed to move aside to let a line of elephants and their trainers pass by.

  Taisia was nearly bouncing off the ground. “I can’t believe it, Pierce. My sister is actually here!”

  Seeing her light up with such glee gave him enjoyment.

  Pierce eyed the hot air balloons. He was tempted to ask Taisia if she cared to take a ride with him, but she seemed eager to find her sister first. The entire field was alive with magic and wonder. Even Pierce felt like a youngster again.

  They located the performers’ wagons behind the Big Top, where the entertainers were rehearsing their acts.

  “Where do you think your sister is?”

  Taisia stopped and examined the caravan. “I’m not sure. Wait here.”

  She went over to a woman without arms, holding a teacup with her toes. They were out of Pierce’s earshot, but whatever Taisia had asked, it certainly put a shocked look on the armless woman’s face. She set the teacup down and pointed with her other foot to a blue carriage with purple trim. Taisia gave her a slight wave of thanks and signaled for Pierce to follow her.

  “Liliya is over here,” she explained. “When I asked that lady where she was, she thought I was crazy. I had to explain to her I was Liliya’s twin.”

  They reached the wagon, and Taisia stopped short. She fidgeted with her rosewood dress.

  “Aren’t you go
ing to knock?”

  “Da. I only need a moment.”

  Pierce let her have all the time she needed. It had been years since she had seen her sister, and for all he knew, they might not have parted on good terms.

  Taisia, however, didn’t have to do anything. The door opened and out came her replica. Although Pierce was aware of her twin, seeing an identical version of Taisia still surprised him. They both shared even the same dark freckles on their faces.

  “Taisia?” Liliya said in her sister’s same lovely tone of voice.

  “Privet, moya sestra,” said Tai.

  With a shocked expression, Liliya raced down the steps, her lengthy silk robe flowing behind her. She wrapped her arms around Taisia and held her tightly. A beat later, Taisia enfolded her in return. Pierce scratched his brow and waited as the sisters relished their reunion. Liliya pulled away and touched her sister’s face. Her nails were painted blue, which matched her cerulean kohl. Her hair was longer than Taisia’s, braided and done up nicely. She spoke to her in Russian and Taisia replied.

  Taisia took her sister’s hands and held them as she spoke in English. “Liliya, let me introduce you to a friend of mine, Pierce Landcross.”

  Liliya shifted those identical cognac eyes to him, and they traveled greedily up and down him. Her smile was as beautiful as her sister’s. Pierce touched his fingertips to his chest and bowed slightly to her while taking her hand to kiss it.

  “A pleasure,” he said, his lips on her hand.

  “An Englishman,” Liliya cooed. “How delightful.”

  As he rose, Pierce did his best not to get delightfully distracted by how loosely her robe was tied.

  “You are a handsome charmer,” Liliya remarked in broken English.

  Pierce felt a mixture of uneasiness and pride. The corners of his lips rose as he bowed his head to her. “Spasibo.”

  “Do you speak Russian?”

  “Only that word. I’ve heard it a lot lately.” He grinned at Taisia.

  Liliya kept her smile as she admired him. Taisia cleared her throat loudly, drawing Liliya’s attention to her.

  “Where is your lover, Alexander?” Taisia inquired curiously.

  Liliya waved dismissively. “I left Alex years ago. He was too stuffy. No adventure in him.”

  Aside from hairstyle, the two were identical in nearly every aspect. However, Liliya did act more like a princess who belonged to some fantasy dynasty, while Taisia was more grounded.

  “I stepped out because I sensed you near,” Liliya said to her sister. She set her sights on Pierce. “Twins are always intertwined with each other.”

  “I see,” he said.

  “What about Mother?” Taisia wondered.

  The joyfulness in her eyes dimmed. Her smile fell to a sorrowful frown.

  “Liliya?” she exhorted.

  In a soft, mournful tone, she said, “Mother died a few years ago. Her heart finally gave out.”

  Taisia sucked in a good amount of air and exhaled slowly. Her eyes swam in tears.

  “She always had a weak heart,” Taisia said, her tone trembling.

  “Hey,” Pierce whispered, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  She looked at him, tears now rolling down her smooth cheeks. If she so desired, he’d hold her to him so she could weep until she cried her last tear.

  Instead, she requested, “Pierce, would you mind if my sister and I spoke alone for a while?”

  “Not at all,” he said soothingly. “I’ll go wander about.”

  He left the sisters to their privacy and headed into the throng at the front.

  The first thing he came across was a performer dressed in a sea captain uniform who was cajoling patrons to come on over. Nearby, was a giant tank of water with an octopus resting at the bottom. On a platform near the rim of the aquarium were four skimpily dressed pirate ladies holding rods with red, yellow, blue, and green-colored flags tied at their ends. In front of the tank was a small circular racetrack with short walls segregating each circuit. Paintings of rats in the same colors as the flags were depicted on the sidewall of the track. Rat racing, Pierce reckoned. The sea captain was stationed behind the enclosed pens where the racing rats were kept. He spoke French, which allowed Pierce to understand him.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said when enough people had gathered. “Come meet Pat, the Predicting Octopus! She can foresee the future.”

  People laughed, which only made the captain’s smile widen.

  “Don’t believe me? Try your luck!” The captain theatrically raised his hand to the women. “Ladies.”

  All the women dipped their rods and flags into the water, keeping them against the corners of the tank near the bottom. Pat, the Predicting Octopus waited a moment before crawling over with her extended arms twisting and flowing about her big, egg-shaped head. She reached the yellow flag and wrapped those lengthy arms of hers around the flagpole.

  “There you have it,” the sea captain announced. “Yellow is Pat’s choice of the day! Now place your bets!”

  Those up for the challenge put banknotes and coins into one of the four colorful jars displayed on the same table as the racetrack. Most mocked Pat, the Predicting Octopus, and bet against her, while some decided to side with the creature and stuffed their loot into the yellow jar.

  Once all bets were made, the sea captain took hold of a thin, striped, colored rope connected to the small pens and raised a pistol into the air. “Ready? Set. Go!”

  He fired a shot and pulled the rope, raising the four gates. Painted rats scampered out over their own enclosed circuit. The rodent painted yellow walked out, sniffed, and then suddenly shot down the racetrack. The red rat walked fast, while the last two merely stood about. The yellow rodent ran as if its feet were on fire. Pierce noticed how the sea captain kept a hand on the side of the track just out of sight. Pierce causally strolled around behind the captain until he saw what he had suspected. On the wall of the racetrack were four tiny switches, one of which the captain steadily flicked up and down. Pierce imagined that each circuit was wired to give the “chosen” rat electrical shocks in order to get it to run like mad. The cheering crowd drowned out the sound of the buzzing electricity.

  The yellow rat crossed the finish line. Pat, the Predicting Octopus, could go to sleep tonight knowing she was still psychic.

  Pierce wandered on until a strange tree built out of steel caught his eye. Curious, he approached. Along the way, he stumbled across people surrounding a showman upon a short stage. Behind him was an iron cylinder, large enough to fit a person in, with an ovoid-shaped glass porthole. The heavy thing was mounted on a stand that appeared to be the ribs of a boat, keeping the metal casket in place. Fixed to one end of it was a wooden box, no bigger than a cigar box, with four dome-shaped, glass lids fastened on each side of it. Thick metal wires stuck out from the tops of each of these glass lids, and ran up alongside a five-inch glass tube, where they connected to the screw cap of a blub above. Below, attached to the side of the of the box, was a copper wire that ran across the short stage to the podium, where it was also connected.

  Pierce focused on the showman who was sporting thick muttonchops and an even thicker, dark brown mustache with hints of grey. He wore a tweed jacket and a bowler hat decorated with wires, watches, and a few tin feathers. He stood beside a podium with an arm raised high as though giving the speech of a lifetime. “Come gather round, ladies and gentlemen!”

  Pierce snaked through the throng to get a better look and spotted dials on the podium.

  “Behind me,” Mr. Muttonchops continued, “is a cryo chamber. A chamber that can bring people back from the dead!”

  The audience gasped.

  “How does it work, Mr. . . . ?” a curious spectator asked.

  “Brooke, my good man. Professor Raphael Brooke. And you just asked a very important question. Allow me to explain” He walked over to the four glass lids. “This is the Wraith Insulator, or soul catcher, if you will. This battery-operat
ed device plays many parts needed to bring forth the spirits of the departed and contain them.” He tapped on the metal wires sticking out from the lids. “This is what’s known as an electrical conductor. These particular conductors carry traces of electricity that form underneath each of these cupolas. By my hand, I shall deliver currents at different velocities. The electricity travels through the electrical conductors”—he pointed to the bulb—“and gives off signals from a transceiver inside this sphere that I have dubbed The Hold.”

  The Hold? Pierce thought. What the bloody hell does that do?

  Professor Brooke raised the heavy iron lid of the cryo chamber.

  “Now what I have in here is this,” Professor Brooke explained, reaching in and bringing out a lifeless lamb. “I killed it this morning for this experiment.”

  The head of the lamb lay limp over the crook of his arm. “The reason why I have a dead lamb is because the wraith needs to be drawn to its own self. Otherwise, the wraith will be summoned with no real place to go. To catch a wraith, however, we first need to call it. I have learned to do just that.”

  He returned the lamb to the cryo chamber and as he closed it, someone else asked, “Call to the deceased? Are you about to hold a séance?”

  The audience chuckled. A smile touched the corner of the professor’s lips. Clearly, he was used to mockery.

  “No, not a séance, for we’re not simply communicating with the deceased. We’re drawing them to us and returning them to their own bodies through the miracles of science! And it can be as simple as storing static electricity inside a Leyden jar. Observe!” He started turning the dials on the podium. “First, the transmission to the targeted departed must commence. Using certain electromagnetic waves to commutate, the Wraith Insulator sends a mess-age much like a telegraph. This takes skill.”

  “What if you call the wrong ghost?” the heckler asked. “Can it enter into the body nonetheless?”