Sleight (27 page)

“Maybe you should talk to Irina about this,” I said.

“I did. She’s been having the same dream.”

“I’m thinking you might realy be going psychic on us, Irwin.” I was sort of teasing, sort of not. It’s not that I didn’t believe him. At this point, I didn’t know what to believe.

“I see things differently, Gems. My spidey senses tel me something is rotten in the state of Denmark.” Again with the Shakespearean references. “Just be careful, okay? Be on your toes.

We love you so much. I just want to do whatever I can to protect you, little one.”

I stood and patted the top of his hand just as Marlene emerged from the bathroom. She was radiant, her new (fireproof) costume sparkling in the early afternoon sunlight, the sequins and rhinestones casting tiny rainbows on the cupboards, wals, and ceiling.

“Does she look as pretty as she smels, girlie?” Irwin said.

“She looks amazing. Break a leg, Auntie,” I said, air-kissing Marlene’s cheek. “Or, not. No broken or stabbed anything, please.”

“Got my lucky penny in my shoe,” she winked and pointed her foot in my direction. “See you inside?”

Marlene left, the smel of her hairspray and perfume slow to fade. Irwin folowed her out to give me a little privacy to get ready.

I changed, threw on some makeup, and packed my violin to head into the stadium. The sound of car tires driving on the freshly poured gravel of the parking lot, the feet stamping on the tiny rocks, the swarm of voices coming from the direction of the ticket booths—it was overwhelming. The light wind carried the excited voices of the little kids scrambling toward the big top hoping to catch a glimpse of the elephants en route to the arena. With al this new noise in my skul, I couldn’t concentrate. How was I going to play? How was I going to walk into a massive tent of people without puling my hair out or screaming, or both?

I should’ve told Ted to have Irina play. Too late now.

I crammed the iPod earbuds into my ear canals and took a few deep, meditative breaths. It was better with the music overriding the sounds of the crowd. I’d just keep the headphones on until the last minute.

I nearly stepped on the smal white box resting on the top step outside the trailer. I bent to pick it up, tucking my music under my left arm, and looked around the yard for any sign of the person who’d left it.

Once in my velvet enclosure, I went through my regular routine.

A headset was waiting on my chair and a stagehand appeared to do a last-minute sound check and affix the battery pack to the waistband of my skirt. I placed the pages on the music stand and clicked on the tiny lamp so I could see what I was doing. With my violin and bow in my lap, I waited for it al to begin, for Ted’s voice to boom across the PA, welcoming attendees to our afternoon spectacle.

It was then that I remembered the smal box. I untied the red satin ribbon and removed the lid. Inside, under a cottony pilow, was a necklace bearing a silver charm about the size of a nickel: a letter G. A tiny note hidden in the box revealed the gift giver’s identity. “For luck, for my letter G. xoxo Henry.” I clasped the fine chain around my neck and tucked the violin under my chin. A few more deep breaths while waiting for the stage manager’s cue.

Ted, swirling cape and black top hat in place, stood adjacent to my area as he awaited the signal to bound through the curtain into the blazing spotlight. The opening music had begun, augmented by the circus orchestra, an eerie yet whimsical compilation intended to excite the crowd, invite them to come along on our mythical journey.

Our story was a loose adaptation of Dante’s epic poems about a young man who must travel the Three Realms, face insurmountable obstacles in each, so that he might be reborn and live forever. As I sat there, trying to shove the flood of whispers out of the space in my head, I realized that the young man and I had a lot in common, both of us faced with impossible odds, both struggling against a destiny we didn’t ask for.

I listened for my cue and secured the violin under my chin, bow ready.

“Five-second warning, Gemma…,” the stage manager whispered through my ear piece.

I cleared my mind and pushed myself into that place where I only saw, and heard, the notes. Another deep breath.

Begin.

:30:

An act of humanity and benevolence will at all times have more influence over the minds of men than violence and ferocity.

—Niccolò Machiaveli, The Discourses

The audience was electric, demanding encores from the company that pushed the show wel into a third hour. When it was finaly time for al of us to take our bows, my guardians caught the wave of the audience stil on their feet and the spotlight refocused on me as I emerged from the shadows and took my place. As much as I shunned the attention, in circus terms, this was a monumental day for Ted and his precious company, a coup that would quiet the naysayers and usher the Cinzio Traveling Players into a new age of theater and circus fusion.

Under the glare of the spotlight, my hands tucked in the hands of Marlene and Ted on my flanks, I spotted Henry in between two people I didn’t recognize, Lucian directly behind. The foursome clapped but remained seated, a stark contrast to the excitement of the surrounding audience who roared through the standing ovation.

The circus orchestra played the audience out of the stadium, and backstage was a celebration of hugs and high-fives. With the overload of sound, I needed to get out of there, maybe sneak through and pul Henry out of the tent so we could talk. Alone. Just as I was putting my earphones back in, Junie bounced in behind me and nearly knocked me over with a bear hug.

“Wasn’t that amazing? Omigod, that was the best show we’ve ever done! Wasn’t it?” She was jumping up and down like her butt was on fire. “Let’s go, I’m supposed to drag you to the dressing rooms for a meet-and-greet. Come on!”

“Junie, no, please. My head—I gotta get some fresh air.” I was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Nuh-uh, party pooper. No escaping! I have strict orders, so come on!”

She puled me into the festivities where the company members congratulated one another on such a successful show. Wide-mouth plastic wine glasses were passed and filed. I found a spot on the far wal of the tent and focused on it, trying very hard to avoid eye contact with the people in my midst as Junie led the way. Great show…so glad the Roulette went well…Marlene looked freaked…Sven looks hot in his tights…I think I need a raise…

when’s dinner. The performers were alive with commentary. The sound—it flirted with unbearable.

We emerged at the opposite end of the mass to join Ted, Marlene, and a handful of others who were surrounded by a group of local reporters, photographers, and distinguished guests. Even the mayor had come, his two kids and gorgeous wife beaming as though they’d just won the lottery. Lucian Dmitri stood with the older couple I’d seen in the audience, and of course, Henry, who gave me only a polite smile.

“And this gorgeous creature is my niece, Gemma Flannery, the ultra-talented violinist who gives our hero the magic he needs to survive his journey,” Ted said.

The gathering applauded for me, to which my cheeks blazed, and the mayor’s young daughter stepped forward to hand me a single pink gerbera daisy.

“I play the flute,” she said.

I kneeled down to accept her flower and ask how old she was.

“Seven.”

“That’s about how old I was when I started the violin. The trick is to practice everyday,” I said. She shook my hand and giggled, and then returned to the safety of her mother’s side.

Ted fielded a handful of questions from the media, his answers carefuly scripted by the new public relations woman, yet another cog in the Dmitri Machine. We posed for a few photos, Junie’s arm tight around my shoulders as she mugged for the shutter. While the photographer did his thing, I could feel Lucian’s eyes on me.

Finaly, the crowd began to disperse and the Dmitris approached.

“So, this is the captivating young lady who has stolen our Henry’s heart,” the elder gentleman said, stepping forward, hand outstretched. “I am Marku Dmitri.” He bowed, gently gripping my hand while planting a polite kiss on its surface. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Ms. Flannery.”

“Thank you, sir, but the honor belongs to me. Your son has done amazing things for our circus,” I said. “And it’s so nice that you could come tonight. Thank you.”

“How’re you feeling after your little fal, Gemma?” Lucian said.

His mother, though she stood right next to Lucian, said nothing, her face like granite. Hard, unwavering, cold. She stared at me, through me, like I was a bug in need of crushing.

I looked away from her glare to answer Lucian’s question. “Um, much better, thank you. And thank you very much for bringing in that amazing doctor.” I touched the area above my eye Dr.

Krishnov had sealed so flawlessly.

He leaned forward and looked closely at the stil-healing stitches.

Fortunately, I was able to cover the tiny blue lines with the edges of my hair and the bruising with makeup. Lucian’s eyes surveying the doctor’s handiwork, however, made me uneasy. You’re my father…

“Dr. Krishnov does amazing work,” he said, stepping back.

“And it is I who should be thanking you. Your musical gift gave this performance its life force today. Your talent is impressive, Gemma.

I am a better person for having heard you play.” Though he was smiling as he stared into my face, there was something in his eyes that gave me the impression of an unsaid subtext, a mysterious, powerful energy hiding within. Did he know that I knew? Did I remind him of my mother, the way Henry reminded him of Alicia?

Did he hate me for it? Did he even care?

Ted interrupted and puled Lucian and his parents across the space so he could introduce them to some of the other performers who hadn’t been present at the prior get-acquainted dinner. Henry gave me a resigned look and moved when Lucian cupped his hand under Henry’s elbow. When our eyes met, I fingered the pendant hanging from my neck. I mouthed the words thank you to him. He smiled.

I stood alone, watching the interactions of the people around me, hearing al of it, snippets from their conversations, and yet hearing nothing. I saw a familiar face step from the crowd gathered around Ted and Lucian. Mr. Harbourne, my philosophy teacher. He put out his hand and Lucian gave it an enthusiastic pump.

“Good of you to come, Ben.” They were standing at least fifteen feet away, but I could hear the hushed tone of Lucian’s voice as if he were right next to me.

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Mr. Harbourne said.

It didn’t seem unusual that Lucian, a member of the local school board, would know Mr. Harbourne. What was odd was that they stepped away from the group and proceeded to speak to one another in a foreign language. And when Lucian looked from Harbourne directly over to me, the teacher folowed Lucian’s gaze.

They were talking about me, and the look on their faces said that they weren’t discussing the success of the show. A chil caused the tiny hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.

Lucian gestured to another person standing adjacent to his parents. Ash—and Summer Day!—emerged from the gathering and joined Lucian and Mr. Harbourne, Lucian’s arms draped around Ash’s and Summer’s shoulders. Given Ash’s prior ultimatum about my involvement with Henry and his rabid assessment of the Dmitri family, what I was seeing made absolutely no sense. And Summer Day? Why was she here again? I thought we’d learned our lesson with her previous foray behind the scenes. And why was she so damn friendly with Lucian Dmitri? I thought she hated the Dmitris.

My attempt at listening in on their conversation, which had reverted to English, was interrupted when Marlene announced that dinner was being served. She invited everyone to make their way to the meal tent, which had been transformed into a wonderland of formal linens and china, twinkly lights wrapped around metal support beams, and tiny tea lights tucked into elaborate centerpieces. No expense had been spared for this evening’s party.

Jean-Pierre provided us with four courses that had alowed him to flex his culinary muscles. Extra staff from a local catering company had been hired, and we were treated to a rare sit-down meal instead of the usual buffet-style lineup. I sat with Marlene, Ted, Irwin, and the Dmitris, and did my best to concentrate on their talk of the show and of shows to come, to drown out the bedlam consuming the tight quarters. The conversation was cautious, an air of unspoken tension hovering over the table.

“The Roulette was astounding, Ted, realy,” Lucian said. “I think it should be a regular part of the show.”

Ted gave Lucian a hasty smile and sipped his wine.

Marku, who’d otherwise been quiet throughout the meal, suddenly spoke. “It’s too bad Alicia couldn’t be here to see you fine lads getting on so wel,” he said. The chatter at the table abruptly halted. Al eyes turned to him. Lucian shifted in his chair, squaring his shoulders at his father, his intonation severe.

“Yes, Father, thank you,” Lucian said. He gave the rest of us a curt smile.

“She always did like a beautiful performance. She would have enjoyed meeting the lovely Gemma, such a talented girl.”

“Taci din gura, Marku,” Lilith snapped.

Lucian was glaring at Marku, who seemed oblivious to the foul taste he was leaving in his son’s mouth. Lilith removed the wine glass from her husband’s hand and Marku met Lucian’s eyes, the two of them regarding one another as if an attack were imminent.

Ted cleared this throat and stood, taking his own glass in hand, and proposed a toast. Marlene tapped her butter knife on the side of a champagne flute, and the older members of the table seemed to exhale an uneasy sigh of relief. I searched Henry’s face for a hint of softness, but he kept his eyes fixed on the table, his expression neutral. Ted offered the company a quick congratulatory speech and thanked everyone for their effort and dedication, for loving the show as much as he did. The company members shared their colective appreciation via a round of applause and a series of counter-toasts to Ted, and Lucian.

As I sat there, new voices began to funnel into my ears. Get the book…get to Rouen…help us, Gemma… Shades, like I’d never seen them before, were congregating around the edges of the tent, some of them less than intact. Eyes missing, jaws detached, limbs festering, evidence of their deaths prevalent on their rotting bodies.