Last Kiss Goodnight (Otherworld Assassin #1)(62)
Author: Gena Showalter

“I’m sorry, I am.” She’d known Audra had begun living with one of Jecis’s men, but hadn’t known . . . hadn’t thought . . . “You saw what Jecis did to Dolly. I couldn’t let that happen to you.”

Audra laughed without humor. “Dolly. I always hated how much you cared for her.”

What! “She was your friend too.”

“No, she was a nuisance. Who do you think told your father that she slammed your hand in the cage?”

“No,” Vika said, shaking her head, refusing to believe what her former friend was implying.

“Oh, yes. I wanted you all to myself.”

But how could she live in ignorance, when that former friend so boldly proclaimed her crime? Anger rose. “You ruined an innocent girl for your own selfish gain. Tell me, Audra. Are you happy with what your actions have wrought?”

Applause rang out, signaling the end of the act and saving Audra from having to form a reply.

Vika focused on the ring. Her palms began to sweat.

Matas stepped front and center. He operated with his usual charm and flair as he waved his hand over a big black top hat—and out flew twenty birds, each painted with all the colors of a rainbow. They soared through the tent, circling the crowd before disappearing in a haze of smoke, just as the clowns had done.

He tossed the hat aside, shadows rising from his shoulders, forming . . . lion heads. That was new. The lions turned toward Matas, opened their mouths, and ate him in one bite. He vanished. Then, even the lions vanished. Everyone looked around. A few people even stood. One second passed, two, then three. The lions reappeared at the other side of the ring, opened their mouths, and out spewed an uninjured Matas, earning more cheers.

He spread his arms and grinned . . . but the expression lacked any kind of sincerity. “And now, I summon my lovely assistant,” he called.

Audra gave her a little push, and Vika stumbled into the ring. There was a burning around her ankles, and she looked down to see the girl had blown a flame onto the hem of her gown. She stopped to pat it away, causing the crowd to laugh and her skin to heat. Smoke curled around her.

The shadows Matas always carried shot out and wrapped around her, tugging her forward. Dread threatened to consume her, but still she offered no resistance when he shackled her to a spinning wheel—the same kind of wheel Solo had been tied to in the petting zoo—with her arms above her head and her legs apart. A flick of his wrist and round and round she spun. Her surroundings blurred, and her stomach clenched.

This had not been part of his act for years, and never with Vika.

But her father wanted her scared, didn’t he? He wanted to prove his utter control over her. He wanted to break her down and remake her into something dark, like him. He wanted her reliant on his mercy. Mercy he did not possess.

Her mind blanked as, in quick succession, blades sank into the wheel beside her left and right temple. Beside her left and right hip. Her left thigh. Right thigh. Both of her ankles. Finally the spinning stopped, and Vika was surprised to find Matas hadn’t purposely nicked her.

He closed the distance between them and removed the shackles. Forcing herself to grin, Vika straightened and nodded to the crowd. For the next ten minutes, Matas had her fetch his props, “relax” on a table while he sawed her in half, his shadows hiding the fact that she was still in one piece, and he bent her over and kissed her for dramatic effect. She barely stopped herself from biting his tongue and spitting out his vile taste.

The crowd cheered. There. She had done her part. She was done.

Head held high, she strolled back to the sidelines. Several other performers patted her on the back for a job well done. For once, they weren’t treating her as if she were a leper, and she didn’t have to wonder why. They now considered her one of them, no longer set apart. And . . . a part of her liked knowing she was no longer despised, there was no denying that.

Perhaps Audra was right. Audra, who was now stepping into the ring to swing on the trapeze.

Perhaps Vika was tainted.

A vibration behind her. A big hand on her shoulder.

Jecis stepped up beside her, and her nervousness returned.

“Well done,” he said. He wore a formfitting red jacket, skintight black pants, and knee-high boots. He wore more makeup than she did, probably to prevent his aging skin from appearing washed out in the light.

“Thank you,” she replied, happy he wasn’t here to yell at her.

“Did you have fun?”

Even now, she wouldn’t lie. “No.” She might have liked the admiration she’d received there at the end, but the feeling had been fleeting—just like the admiration. These people would turn on her in a heartbeat.

Jecis swept out his arm. “Look. Look out there, at their faces. Feel the adoration of the crowd. You can have that every week.”

“I don’t want it. You had to sell your soul to get it.” Just like Audra. “I won’t do the same.”

“Sold my soul? Darling, when I took over this circus, I finally found my soul.”

How could he not see what he’d become? “Daddy, you found something dark and twisted. I liked you the way you were.”

A flare of frustration and impatience in his eyes. And . . . was that a skull hiding under his skin, peering out at her, its teeth chomping at her? “When I was weak?”

“When you were sweet.”

“And you don’t like me now?” he asked, his mouth moving contrary to the skull’s.

She pressed her lips together, refusing to answer.

He didn’t hit her, and he didn’t push her. He didn’t even speak another word to her. He simply stalked away.

Vika remained in the same spot for the rest of the performance. And, she had to admit, even she was captivated by the colorful lights, the exuberant beat of the music, and the antics of the twirlers, spinning, spinning, round and round from cords hooked to wooden beams in the ceiling, their bodies contorted in what should have been impossible positions. Some even dove through fiery hoops, lightning flashing from their hands as they met in the center.

A giant glass cannon was wheeled to the far right. A man made a big production of slipping inside the barrel. Audra swung from one of the ropes, nearing the cannon, and shot a spray of fire from her mouth, lighting the fuse. As she swung in the opposite direction, the male blasted from the center, and the fish inside the glass burst free. Only, they weren’t injured. The glass turned to glittering snowflakes, and the fish to stuffed animals several lucky people in the crowd could catch.