Master Page 3

  Looking up, I notice Ezra’s eyes on me yet again, his eyebrows drawn together as he watches me slip my phone back into my pocket. He’s standing near the tent’s back opening with Alina, who gives me a small wave.

  His voice is clear and loud as he calls over, “Delilah, the toilet block needs a clean during the performance. and I want you to assist Jerry and Lewis with the tidy up after the show.”

  He’s deliberately trying to drive me crazy, trying to show me that I don’t belong here, but I do. I’m up to my elbows in starchy water, my sweater clinging to my skin since I refuse to show the skin on my arms, as I shout back, “You want me to litter pick?”

  Ezra crosses his arms and gives me the same look Alina used on him the other night. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is that beneath you?”

  I huff, and use one of my soaked sleeves to push my hair out of my face. “I didn’t say that.”

  I was going to have to watch my words around him, or he’d hang me with my own rope. He scoffs at me, and I notice that the others are starting to pay attention to our interaction. Not that I blame them, watching Ezra do anything was a show in itself.

  “If you want to stay here, you need to have a use. And you don’t perform, so your options are limited. I mean, all that’s of any use is your body, and I never fuck the same woman twice, so you’d be gone tomorrow.”

  One of the acrobat’s giggles as she looks me over, and Alina appears bored by the interaction as Jerry emerges behind them. I was making a spectacle of myself, but it was like my mouth was on autopilot, I couldn’t stop. It’s why I was always being punished, my inability to think before I speak.

  I straighten on my little stool, a huge pan of potatoes wedged between my legs. “I’m sorry to hear that you can’t get anyone to return for round two, but even if you asked nicely, I’d still choose to peel potatoes and clean toilets.”

  Crickets.

  There is actual silence except from the giggling acrobat now gasping. I’d spoken back to the Ringmaster and implied that he was inadequate in the bedroom department. Great start, Lilah, I say to myself.

  Ezra doesn’t look offended, instead he looks amused. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “Ezra!” a voice calls. “Wren is looking for you.”

  “We’ll finish this conversation later.” Ezra points to me, eyes narrowed. The horn emphasises the dangerous aura he has, and I can’t figure out if I’m terrified, turned on, or both by the monstrous thing protruding from his skin. It didn’t matter either way, he had Lottie, and I wanted the Carnaval, not him.

  “This is not a conversation. It’s you giving me orders and me complying, like a good member of the team because I am not going anywhere,” I call out, waving a potato at him as he turns on his heel and disappears into the tent.

  After scrubbing the toilets and cleaning up the Big Tent, I have a new appreciation of the work that goes into the Carnaval daily. It’s not an easy life, and it’s not glamorous at all. I collapse on some mats in the small canvas tent Alina told me was mine, every part of me hurting, every muscle feeling like it’s been stretched and pulled, but I relish it. Pain isn’t new to me, it’s like a familiar friend reminding me that I am still alive. Still fighting. I’m a flame they couldn’t extinguish, and I need that, otherwise I’d lose myself.

  Tomorrow, I’ll be assisting Needles with repairing some of the costumes and helping the new starter, Indigo. Ezra is upping his game, and I know each day is going to get harder, but I refuse to break. Stripping off my jumper, I glance over the raised skin on my wrists. They were reminders that I was stronger than I thought I was. That I was a survivor. My body was a messy map of my life, but it was finally mine. I pull on a T-shirt and some joggers, before crawling into a sleeping bag that smells faintly of nicotine and coffee, and I wonder if it’s from Ezra’s trailer. Laying in the darkness, my fingertips moving over the lines, I count them until I fall asleep. Darkness claims me, but I am not afraid. I welcome it.

  Five

  Ezra

  I wake to the sound of glass shattering, and I don’t even need to crack open my heavy lids to know that Lottie is having a bad day. I give myself a moment, just a single moment, before I throw myself from the bed and rush to find her.

  I hear her cries first, the wailing and sobbing that makes me feel like someone is trying to claw my heart out of my chest cavity. She’s hurting and nothing I do will take away her pain, nothing I say can save her. She’s in our living area, crouched on the floor surrounded by mirror fragments, her fingers bleeding as she looks at her broken reflection. She’s aware, and that is when it’s the hardest. It’s when she remembers, when she sees what they did to her and realizes what her life is now that destroys me a little bit more. Fat tears roll down over her scars and past the droop in her mouth, down her marked neck before plopping onto the rug. I wish they carried away her anguish, that crying would make her feel better, but we’d been here enough times now that I knew better.

  “I’m a monster,” she screams, hands moving down her arms, across her chest, and I watch as she lifts her nightdress to see the extent of the scaring. It’s everywhere, her whole body is a mess of purple and white marks. Some of the skin looks like a shimmery paper, where they burned her, and parts of it still look raw despite the time that’s passed.

  “No,” I say firmly as I get low and creep closer, pushing away some of the mirror shards.

  “I am a freak.” She clasps a jagged piece tightly in her fist, and we both watch as blood begins to ooze, trickling down her pale skin and joining her tears on the carpet.

  I laugh, but there’s no warmth behind it. It tastes bitter even as I do it. “You say that like you didn’t know that already.”

  Charlotte helped me create the Carnaval, it was supposed to be a safe haven for people like us. People who didn’t fit in and had been cast out by society. She could have lived a normal life, she was a contortionist, which was a skill that could be hidden easily, instead she’d chosen to stay with me. This was my fault.

  “No, Ezra.” The look she gives me makes me feel like I’m still a child. In moments like this, she knows it’s not just her body that is damaged. “This is not the same. I am hideous, a horror, an abomination. A shell. I am ruined.”

  Each word is dragged out, hatred in every syllable as she looks at her reflection in a hundred different pieces of mirror. I take the shard from her hand and throw it aside before pulling her into me. “They are the monsters, Lottie, not you.”

  “Don’t,” she cries as I begin to stroke her hair and gently rock us.

  There’s a soft rap on the door, and Maia pokes her head in, probably because she could hear the commotion outside. I wave her away, ignoring her mournful gaze. Lottie is my weakness. I hate being weak, but I have the situation under control as Lottie’s breathing calms and her arms wrap around me. Her tiny body trembles against mine, and I feel so fucking helpless. And angry.

  “I can’t take your pity, Brother,” she whispers, burying her head into my chest.

  I inhale, the soft lavender smell reminding me of home as I hold her tighter. “I will make them pay, Lottie, I will make all of them pay.”

  I can’t leave Charlotte until the late afternoon when she eventually falls asleep exhausted, and when I do, I find Needles and Delilah sitting in the sunshine hand stitching some sequins and filigrees onto costumes. The way she’s laughing and smiling stirs something inside me.

  Didn’t she understand how fucked up everyone else here was? Didn’t she know what she was throwing away by choosing to stay? I watch as she stabs her finger with the needle, and instead of wincing in pain, I see the way the corner of her mouth twitches. Interesting. She stares at the blood droplet forming on the tip, saying nothing as she puts her finger in her mouth and sucks. Our gazes clash, and that’s when I see it, there’s something lurking under the innocent facade. It’s only a flicker, but it’s there. She raises an eyebrow, questioning my stare as she pulls out her finger with a pop. />
  “Delilah, Indigo needs an assistant,” I say, motioning for her to run along. There’s no show tonight, and I’m itching to put my theory to the test, telling me everything I need to know. Indigo was bringing out something strange in my freaks, and if Delilah wanted to prove that she should stay, then she needed to face him too.

  She nods. “I’m heading over to the practice tent after I finish this skirt for Needles.”

  “No, now.” I cross my arms and give her a stern look. I need to blow off some steam after this morning and watching Delilah have knives thrown at her might just do the trick.

  She pauses, putting the fabric down in her lap. “But-”

  “Did I stutter?” I’m aware that Needles is making a face as I glare at the young girl.

  “No.”

  I snort. “Then move your ass.”

  She stands reluctantly, and I can see her biting the inside of her cheek as she hands the material back to Needles, throwing me a frustrated look over her shoulder as she walks over to the practice tent.

  “Faster!” I shout as she picks up the pace, and I begin along the same path. “FASTER!” My bellowing may have drawn some of the others out of their tents and trailers, but it also has Delilah running like she’s being chased.

  I take a seat in the shadows of the tent next to Maia and Yager. That fucker doesn’t even acknowledge me, while Maia gives me a small smile, but no words are exchanged as we watch Indigo move to strap Delilah to a board.

  As she motions for him to leave the straps, I lean forward on my knees. Interesting. Did she trust herself not to move? Or was it that she didn’t care about the outcome if she did? She stands, back straight against the board, chin up, and feet shoulder width apart with her arms outstretched as Indigo grabs his knife from the stand. Positioned like this, I can see how her clothes hang off her small frame, and I think back to five years ago.

  When I first saw Delilah, she had this soft honey blonde hair and wore a fitted pink summer dress with a cardigan. She was every inch the perfect, wholesome American teenager, probably on the cheerleading squad with a football jock boyfriend. It was her eyes that caught my attention, cornflower blue and full of determination and sadness. Her parents had ushered her away from me, but there were worse things out there than overbearing parents. I can still hear her pleas in my mind when I remember our conversation, but it was like she was a different person now, wearing dark dresses with tights or baggy sweaters and ill-fitting jeans, almost like she was trying to cocoon herself in clothes. Even the poor dye job can’t detract from the fact that she is still a pretty girl, she can’t hide everything.

  She inhales, and I’m transfixed by her throat as she swallows before exhaling and nodding at Indigo, who lets his blades fly. The whole tent goes still as they glint in the air. I want to teach her a lesson in the worst kind of way, and I don’t know why she’s getting to me. I’m always in control, but Delilah was standing here, in my Carnaval, even though I’d turned her away. Her blue eyes are locked with mine as the knives hit their marks, one between her legs, one by her left armpit, and the other just brushing the top of her head. She doesn’t flinch. When Indigo throws the final and fourth blade, I wouldn’t have even known that it had touched her cheek if it hadn’t been for the scratch that begins bleeding gently. He’d done it deliberately, and she hadn’t blinked. The pain hadn’t fazed her, and there was no hiding the spark in her eyes as Indigo gently swipes a fingertip over the wound. Indigo tilts his head, intrigued, and as I’m about to intervene, Yager storms out of the tent, breaking his fascination with Delilah. The fragile-looking man smiles as he watches Yager leave, and it’s sinister as fuck.

  “You’re done here,” I bark, and it’s like a spell has broken as everyone starts moving again. Maia slips from the tent after her friend as Indigo pulls his blades out of the wood and begins packing them away, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his face.

  Delilah strolls toward me. “Am I done here too?”

  “No.” I grab her wrist and drag her from the tent and into my office trailer, pouring myself a glass of whiskey before pushing her into a chair opposite my desk. “I have questions for you.”

  She narrows her eyes, and I watch her cheeks hollow as she bites the inside of her mouth again. Shifting uncomfortably, she quietly asks, “What kind of questions?”

  Why, Delilah? What are you hiding, little caterpillar? I sit back and make a mental note for Maia and Alina to help her fix her hair, the light roots were beginning to show through, making her look even more unkempt.

  I learn forward, my elbows on the desk as I quiz, “Why are you here?” It isn’t a hard question, and it’s a vital one. One she had yet to give a satisfactory answer for.

  She shrugs. “I have nowhere else I belong.”

  I run my tongue over my teeth, we were going to play the vague game then. “I find that hard to believe. What about your parents?”

  Her face is blank as she replies, and that instantly has me on edge. It’s like a mask has slipped down into place, and I know it’s a sore subject. “I am twenty-one, I’m allowed to leave home.”

  Allowed. Odd choice of words. So she still had a troubled relationship with her overbearing parents, but that wasn’t a good enough reason to run away.

  “College? Friends?”

  “I didn’t get in, and I have none. Not real ones, anyway.” Another little shrug, she’s holding back, giving me the bare bones of an answer when I’m after the meat. I want to feel it between my teeth as I tear it apart and get down to the nitty-gritty of what makes Delilah tick.

  “Boyfriend?”

  She pauses.

  Six

  Delilah

  “Boyfriend?” he snarls as his dark eyes are glued to my face, and I pause.

  “Uh…” I mean, technically Trevor is my boyfriend, but I never chose him. We’d grown up together, our parents were friends, and we just sort of fell into it.

  Ezra scoffs, and there’s an edge of jealousy to his words. “You’re telling me you’ve left some poor fucker waiting while you’ve joined a freak show?”

  Was Trevor waiting for me? Yes. My father would try to bring me back soon, and Trevor would do whatever they told him to. He followed the rules, he behaved.

  Ezra stands and paces the small space, whiskey still in his hand. I watch his lithe body move as he processes my words, trying to figure me out. Alina told me that Ezra likes to be in control, he needs to be, but I had already figured that out. He’d watched as I’d cleaned the Big Tent, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. Just now with Indigo, he’d liked being the puppet master. He wanted to push me, to see how far I’d go, but he didn’t count on me needing it just as much as he did. Sometimes pain is the only way I feel, and I know I shouldn’t think like that. I know it’s fucked up, but it’s how I stay sane.

  “Don’t you care about him at all?” He places his glass down and rolls up his sleeves before leaning against the desk, head tilted, long legs stretching toward me.

  I stare straight ahead. “He’ll forgive me. He has to.”

  The corner of his mouth pulls up. “Religious type?”

  “Yes,” I admit. “We go to the same church.”

  Not that it was your typical church, and if you didn’t live your life in line with the teachings, you needed to be brought into line. Punishment was a standard requirement of your parents, they needed to have a stern hand to bring you back into God’s good graces. But Ezra didn’t need to know that, he just needed to let me stay.

  “So, you’re feeling a bit oppressed by your religious middle-class upbringing and thought you’d run away from home for a summer, do dangerous stunts, get drunk, fuck some freaks, and then go back home? That’s not how this works, Delilah.” He grabs my chin as he berates me, and I refuse to blink as I inhale the scent of whiskey mixed with those stupid cigarette’s he’s always puffing on.

  His face is inches away from mine, and up this close I can see the way the skin at the base of his horn looks
tender, it’s a painful reminder that he’s a monster and he lives with that every day as it cuts through his flesh, growing and twisting.

  “Do you want to touch it? Want me to press it against your skin as I fuck away the American sweetheart facade?” he taunts, his lips almost touching mine. “Want to get fucked by a freak?”

  The rough ridge of his horn starts rubbing against my forehead, biting into my skin. The friction burns, but I don’t move. I can’t. It hurts. But I need it.

  “I knew it,” he breathes, and I can almost taste the smoky scent that lingers.

  His words break the spell, and reaching up, I grab a handful of his hair and pull him away from me. I get to my feet, face burning. “Don’t pretend you know a thing about me, Master Black. You don’t have a clue.”

  Ezra says nothing as I call him Master like he’d instructed when I met him five years ago, but his gaze is intense as I leave, slamming the door behind me. I run into Yager outside, but he ignores me after giving me a condescending glance, Maia following behind, curiosity clear on her small features, but it’s gone as she chases after her friend.

  I manage to avoid Ezra the next day, hiding in the practice tent with Alina and Maia as I clean the equipment ready for tonight’s performance. Maia is practicing her routine, with Darryn assisting while Alina and I watch from the sidelines. She’s beautiful as she moves through the air, and I can see why she’s the Human Fairy, it isn’t just the wings, it’s the delicate way she moves.

  Alina sips from a mug of sweet tea as Maia dismounts. Crossing her legs in a way that makes even my mouth water, she leans back and advises, “If you’re part of the show, he’ll go easier on you. Ezra likes money, and if you can make money, you’re safe.”

  “No one is safe from Ezra.” I chuckle as I clutch my backpack. I’d brought a few things from home with me, but I’d been waiting for the right time to practice. The stunt in his office only showed me that he was still trying to push me out, and if I didn’t do something soon, he might succeed. I wasn’t ready to go home yet. I belonged here, and it was time I showed him that.