The Girl Who Joined the Circus

Chapter Five

As my fellow circus mates raced to get ready for the evening performance, I didn’t want to get in their way, so I found an empty cot and decided to take a quick break and search my mind for some plausible explanation for what had happened earlier.

The unused cot was in the far corner of the sleeping tent. A small travel trunk was provided at the foot of each cot, and I dropped my bag on the bed, ready to unpack it. After pulling out and placing my few possessions neatly in the trunk, I sat down. It had been a long, strange but exhilarating day.

A few hours later, I was no closer to a conclusion regarding the old woman and her caravan, the lapse in time and the strange people without any faces. I figured I’d chalk the whole thing up to anticipatory nerves. I had, most certainly, imagined the whole thing and had only my brain to blame.

Wanting to put the strange situation out of my mind, I paid attention to the fact that the performance for the evening was about to start in the big tent, as evidenced by the gathering crowd of performers who were all heading that way. Anxious to catch the show, I walked briskly alongside them, heading for the big top.

The once-empty tent was now filled to capacity. Men, women, boys and girls occupied the stands, chatting, whistling, and stuffing fists of cotton candy in their faces while they awaited the show. None of the curiosities were in sight, probably hidden outside in anticipation of their cues to enter. Only the musicians were visible, sitting on their own set of benches, right beside the stage.

The fervor of the excitement was palpable, the air electric, and I found myself eager, the strangeness from earlier in the day all but forgotten. The energy was invigorating, and before I knew what I was doing, I was jiggling my feet along with the beat of the music. I could physically feel the buzzcoursing through my system in a way I’d never experienced excitement before. Enthusiasm, anticipation, and adrenaline made for a power-driven cocktail that was intoxicating.

As I tucked further into the tent, the lights shifted. Purples and blues drifted along the benches as if we were all trapped in a shadowy dimension. The beams of light faded into a glow of green and then solidified into a yellow spotlight as Laurent appeared beneath it. Dressed in his dazzling, violet costume, he was wearing a black mask that looked as if he were trying to impersonate a plague doctor. The audience went silent, their elation suddenly sapped from the air. Dread was the name of the game now, and it hung heavier than fog.

“Midnight, ladies and gentlemen.” Laurent’s voice rang out, strangely, without a hint of the warmth to which I was accustomed. “Midnight is the time when the veil is drawn, separated between this plane and that of the next.”

A flash of light erupted on either side of him, ripping upward like a sheer, lavender curtain. Tinkling chimes pealed with the audience’s gasps.

“Where the twisted mind of Death can display His creations.”

Laurent snapped his gloved finger. A brilliant spark of green light streaked across the air, twisting like a snake. A silhouette spun and swayed within its vortex, glittering beads and bangles adding to the cacophony of wind-blown instruments. I could barely make out Valida between the embers, only briefly catching a glimpse of her face as her eyes glinted like gold coins in the flickering lights.

“Where the souls intermingle.” Laurent’s hand swung to the opposite side, fire erupting from his palm as Halfrieda came into view behind the flames, with her back facing the audience. Her hair, which was drawn up into a bun atop her head, was colored even more orange and yellow than usual from the flames. Her back was to everyone, flighty flutes accompanying the slow, rhythmic sway of her hips. She turned her head ever so slightly, and her facial hair shimmered, a burnished copper glowing brightly against the lavender backdrop.

The audience gasped as the drums thundered.

The lights faded once more, leaving the tent pitch-black, save for Laurent’s spotlight. “Yes, ladies and gentlemen, midnight is a dangerous hour for mere mortals. That is why I, Laurent Elilchelvan, will guide you through these tumultuous events.” The music slowly continued behind him as he pulled the hems of his gloves, and wisps of black smoke escaped from them. “By practice alone have I conquered the spirits behind the veil, commanding their energy to bend to my will. I promise your safety in return for your trust.”

Suddenly, the words of the old crone revisited me with a vengeance, repeating through my head like a song it’s impossible to forget.

Trust no one. Trust no one. Trust NO ONE.

The captivated audience leaned forward on the edges of their seats as Laurent tugged on his other glove, his gaze assessing the enthralled crowd. Even I was waiting in breathless anticipation to see what would happen next. Suddenly, the bleating of a brassy trumpet broke the silence. Everyone jumped, me included. Out from Laurent’s glove blew a bright, pink smoke, forming drifting heart shapes that floated above him.

Forcing thoughts of the old crone and her cryptic warning from my mind, I focused instead on how I couldn’t wait to write to Amelia to tell her how amazing the Cirque Du Noir was—how Laurent was able to capture the attention of each and every person here. I couldn’t wait for Amelia to join me in person and witness all of this for herself.

The pink smoke continued to billow around Laurent, still forming the shapes of hearts of every size and width.

“Hearts?” Laurent pulled down the rim of his top hat, allowing humor to creep into his voice. The mood lightened slightly, and the audience chuckled nervously. “It seems the spirits have chosen, ahem, the fairer sex tonight.”

The spotlight swung around the crowd, settling on a young woman. Her eyes went wide as she alone became illuminated in a sea of darkness, clearly uncertain as to why she was singled out. What was once a dreary atmosphere quickly lifted as Laurent strolled over to her, practically skipping up the stairs to kneel before the woman. Laughter filled the space, and the background lights illuminated the two of them in soft pinks and reds.

“I’m terribly sorry to put you on the spot, miss.” Laurent swept his hat off his head and held it to his chest in an apologetic gesture, only to lift it again, producing the same bouquet of flowers he’d given me earlier. “But the spirits tell me they are quite smitten by your beauty.”

The woman, who wasn’t particularly attractive with her plain, mousy-brown hair, overly large nose and dull, small eyes, covered her mouth with her hands as she giggled. She accepted the bouquet as a rainbow emerged from Laurent’s hat. Squeals of joy rang out from the younger audience members as Laurent crammed the hat back on his head. The rainbow dribbled down onto his shoulders.

“Well, aren’t I a right mess!” Laurent sighed, posing with a hand dramatically set against the forehead of his mask as he looked away from the young woman. “Now I fear the pretty miss will reject my invitation to dance.”

The crowd egged her on, cheering and clapping. She shook her head, trying to say no while grinning ear to ear. Finally, she extended her hand and Laurent, showman that he was, accepted it with glee and escorted her toward the stage.

And it was then that something inside me began to buck at the sight of Laurent with this woman. I could feel my fingers clenching into fists and when I looked down at my hands, I noticed my knuckles had turned white. Which made no sense.

You hardly know him. There’s no reason to be jealous!

But that’s exactly what I was, as ridiculous and confusing as it seemed. Why in the world was I jealous of a woman in the audience who had simply captured Laurent’s attention? It was preposterous and completely out of character for me. Furthermore, I didn’t even know Laurent! I’d simply met him earlier that day and yet… yet… there was something within in me that felt I’d known him a lifetime.

It all made very little sense.