Broken People (15 page)

“So we lose some of the power on the way.”
Spinner shrugged. “It’s only for two hours tops. We can afford
it.”

With her hands propped on her narrow waist,
Anya shuffled on her feet and pursed her lips. She didn’t like to
be ignored.

“Fine.” Nicholas nodded at Spinner. “Keep a
close eye on the readings. We don’t want any surprises.”

“So bossy,” Anya said, grinning, after
Spinner left. “It suits you.”

Nicholas shook his head, recalling days long
gone when he used to act like that without giving it a second
thought. “I don’t like the pressure.” Not anymore because, this
time, he felt responsible for the result.

Anya kept smiling, implying she knew better.
The truth was, Nicholas liked to be in control, and he hadn’t been
in a long time. He didn’t remember the pressure being so great, but
that was another time and he was a different man back then.

“Stop tempting me, you devil.” Nicholas
pretended to frown at her and pointed at the stage. “Go and do your
thing.” He tried to make it sound like an order, but the smile
tugging at the corners of his lips ruined the desired effect.

“Yes, boss!” Anya laughed and ran gracefully
in the pointed direction. Instead of getting out of the way of the
retreating stilt men, she ducked and passed between the legs of one
of them. Luckily, the dogs had left the stage through the other
exit.

Aurore forced her fingers to unclench the
edge of the balcony. Had her fingernails been real, they would have
been broken by now. The way it was, half-moon shapes had remained
engraved in the fine layer of gold covering the polished wood. Gold
didn’t scratch gold but, of course, her hands weren’t made of gold.
They just looked like they were. She discreetly flexed her fingers,
hoping her companions hadn’t noticed. The only other time her
prosthetics had malfunctioned, it had happened during a cold winter
when the entire city was without power for a week. Her technician
had blamed it on the low temperature, though she had been sheltered
in the house and hadn’t even caught a cold.

Keeping her back straight and her hands
folded in her lap, Aurore urged her body to relax. Unfortunately,
she had no control over what was going on inside her prosthetics.
She felt no pain, but having lived with them for over a decade, she
instinctively knew the circuits inside were overcharged, and she
couldn’t figure out why. Her prosthetics didn’t make a habit out of
moving without her willing them to do so. Yet, they had. The
stumble while walking up the stairs had shocked her because she
never stumbled. All her moves were perfectly calculated and
executed. She didn’t have to think about them after her brain had
sent the command.

Her mind scrambled to think of a reason for
such behavior, terrified it could happen again. She paid no
attention to the show. Colorful lights flashed in front of her
eyes, and loud music assaulted her ears, but everything happened
far away as, frozen in her seat, she waited for the next twitch to
come. When the drums, sounding like cannons, announced the leap
made by one of the gymnasts from on top of the human pyramid over
the smaller tower in front, in did. Her left foot jumped, slamming
down so hard, the heel of her shoe broke the floorboard underneath
and remained stuck in it.

Dale’s arm rested heavily on the back of
Aurore’s chair. “Calm. Down.”

“It’s because of the excitement,” she said
in a weak voice.

“Sure it is.” Dale kept his eyes on the
stage but didn’t remove his arm.

Aurore waited for another act to start
before slowly rotating her ankle in an attempt to free her heel.
Dale’s hand landed on her knee, steadying it. She was about to
protest when Uncle Tem clapped his hands.

“Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!” he said,
referring to the group of female contortionists performing on
stage, all tangled up in a human jumble. “Don’t you agree?” His
eyes strayed to the hand on her leg and widened. Still, the big
grin didn’t leave his round face.

“They’re very …” Aurore paused, unable to
find the right word.

“Gifted,” Dale said.

“Yes, gifted indeed.” She nodded, though her
thoughts were not on the contortionists, no matter how skilled they
were.

“Gifted. I like that!” Uncle Tem gave Dale a
knowing smile and turned his attention back to the action on the
stage. “I like that very much,” he repeated to himself.

Aurore rolled her eyes, which startled her
because she couldn’t remember the last time she had done that.
People were usually careful not to act silly around her or, God
forbid, upset her, but that wasn’t the case with her uncle, the
mayor. She also didn’t remember the last time someone had touched
her. Dale’s hand burned her through the thin fabric of her dress.
It was her bad knee, the one still made of flesh and bone.

Pure hatred flared through her, aimed at the
man who made her resent what was left of her human body. She placed
her hand on top of his and squeezed, not enough to break the bones,
but close. Dale tensed beside her and gritted his teeth. Aurore
decreased the pressure, relieved to have the prosthetic work
correctly. And then, there was another shower of lights and loud
music, and her other foot jumped.

“Is it the visual or audio stimulus that
triggers it?” Dale whispered in her ear.

Aurore shook her head from left to right,
her jaw locked too tightly to get the words out.
I don’t
know.

“Is there going to be an intermission?” he
asked.

She nodded at the program. Dale’s dark eyes
trailed from her face, down the curve of her breast, to the glossy,
brown piece of paper lying in her lap. The lack of change of his
expression told her the answer. No intermission.

“Do you want to leave?”

“I … can’t.”

After a short pause, Dale said, “I should go
and talk to Renard, tell him to tone it down.”

“These things … are programmed in advance …
They can’t change them … on the fly. I’ll be fine.”

She was for a while. The Nightingale’s
marvelous singing helped her remain relaxed in her seat, and while
aware it was misleading, Aurore couldn’t fight the feeling nothing
bad could happen to her. Then Nicholas came out on stage, and she
relaxed more. His act required no special effects so no lights
assaulted her, and he preferred to work in silence, interrupted
only by the audience’s gasps and claps when a number was
particularly astonishing. Her attempts to free her heel failed due
to Dale’s hand stilling her foot each time so, in the end, she gave
up trying.

“Oh, no …,” Dale murmured when the magic
number ended and a big wheel appeared on stage.

Nicholas pushed his trunk out of the way
and, removing his top hat, wiped his forehead. He’d done it. He’d
performed his entire act, used a small amount of power to make it
believable, and no one had noticed. He had always told himself he
was taking too many risks with the shows he did alone in the towns
they stopped in, but these shows were the only thing that made him
stand apart from the circus people, helping him to not lose his
identity.

Who was he really? He wasn’t the son of a
rich financier anymore, he did not have a life of his own, did not
have any accomplishments. He didn’t belong to the circus, and his
identity—le Fleuriste—was a sham since he was clearly no magician.
But he felt at home tonight, in his medium, on top of things, not
hiding for a change. He’d tremendously enjoyed that.

To calm his excitement, he reminded himself
he didn’t really own the circus. Big Dino would not give up on it
anytime soon, and when he did, he wouldn’t leave Nicholas in
charge. Shaking his head, he locked the trunk and signaled for a
member of the staff to take it to his dressing room while he hung
around and kept an eye on things. The crew knew their job, and he
wanted to hold onto that satisfaction a little longer.

Nicholas’s smile faltered when, turning the
corner, he found Anya bent over a waste bucket. Her mask was off,
and her face had an unhealthy green tinge. Bracing himself against
the bitter feeling he was partially responsible for her discomfort,
Nicholas slid an arm around her waist. “Let’s get you out of here
…”

“I’ll be fine,” Anya said, allowing him to
lead her to her dressing room. “I get sick every time. It’s nothing
new.”

“I know.” The acknowledgement didn’t remove
any of the guilt. He supported her all the way to the door and,
once inside, pulled a chair out for her.

Anya sat down with a tired sigh and dropped
her head in her hands. “It’s a good thing I don’t have to go out
again until the end. I don’t know how I would make it.”

She would have made it the same way she
survived every curveball life threw at her. She performed each
night despite the sickness because she was a brave girl. If she
hadn’t wanted to do it, Big Dino wouldn’t have forced her. He
wasn’t that cruel.

Anya raised her dark eyes at him and lowered
her hands. The color had returned to her face. “Don’t feel sorry
for me. With all my whining, I
do
know I need a circus act
to be part of the cast. This is the only thing that I can do
without endangering my legs.” The legs were everything for a
ballerina. She never let him forget that.

“Well, then …” Nicholas kneeled in front of
her and rested his palm on her ribcage.

Anya arched a delicate eyebrow. “Are you
trying to cop a feel? My breasts are higher than that.”

“I was thinking that maybe you should lock
the panel next time. Then let them try to open it. It would
still
be a comedic number.”

Anya’s grin met his. “Maybe I should … Ooh,
get out of here and stop tempting me.” She waved both hands at him,
shooing him away. “I need to make myself presentable for the final
bow. I can’t face the public with
this
face.”

“Sure you can.” It was a lovely face when
not hidden by the mask. “But do prepare for the reception. A lot of
people will be eager to see you.” Nicholas caught her hand and
placed a kiss on the back of it before getting up.

“Charmer.” Anya pursed her lips but was
unable to hide a smile of enjoyment.

“Nicholas!” The door slammed against the
wall, and Spinner burst in.

“Is it the electrical system?” Nicholas
asked, not overly concerned because there were only a few minutes
of the show left.

“No, but there are signs of increasing
tension in the ceiling beams,” Spinner said between panted breaths.
“They’re old, and Serioja and Misha swear they heard them crack
when they were flying on the trapeze.”

Nicholas stifled a frustrated sigh. So much
for everything working according to plan. “All right. Prepare to
stabilize the ceiling until the audience leaves the building. After
that, it’s none of our concern.”

“It might not hold that long,” Spinner said,
shaking his head. “We didn’t do a full rehearsal run because of
this exact reason. Now it looks like it will collapse anyway. The
strain is too great …”

“Hmm … Inform the crew we might be forced to
skip the last act. We won’t have it collapse on us.”

“People will be furious. They worked so
hard, and it’s the highlight of the show.”

“Better furious than dead,” Anya said.

Nicholas glanced at her, used to her
practical side. Things would have been different if she were the
one closing the show, but since she wasn’t, reason won. “Get
everything ready,” he told Spinner. “I’ll go to prepare the
closing.”

For the second time that evening, Nicholas
entered the mayor’s box. “How’s it going?” he asked quietly,
leaning against the archway. “Is everything to your liking?”

“It’s stupendous,” Ternchiev said, oblivious
to the tension in the couple sitting beside him. “I knew your act,
but I had no idea the rest of the acts were this good. We should
have brought you in a long time ago!”

How could he know when he’d banned the
circus from town? Someone as important as the mayor would not lower
himself to mingling with those “circus freaks”. “The audience has
been thinning lately, so we were forced to step up our game. Bigger
shows, better productions, more money … You know how it is.”

“Bigger shows indeed.” Ternchiev nodded, his
eyes glued to Riella’s light body, spinning inside a wide circle
four meters above the stage. In the spotlight, her mane danced like
a flame around her.

The talks with management to bring in her
silks had failed. The theater safety rules didn’t allow her to use
them without a safety line, and Riella’s first attempt to work the
silks with the line on had been a disaster. In the end, she had
settled for the circle. There was no need to say she wasn’t happy
about it. But the combination of red circle, red hair, and
skin-colored costume made for an impressive act, and the mayor
obviously appreciated it. The majority of the men inside the hall
didn’t need the Nightingale’s help to have impure thoughts when
faced with that sight.

Nicholas had some impure thoughts of his
own, except his focused on murdering her. The silver sparkles
decorating Riella’s costume caught his attention from the start
because this wasn’t the design they had agreed on. As soon as the
glitter intensified, enveloping her body in white fire for a brief
second, Nicholas clenched his fists tightly, annoyed by the
deviation from the script. Then it stepped outside the script
completely. The spinning circle released sparks into a personal
fireworks show.

The audience gasped as thousands of shooting
stars filled the cupola of the theater with scintillation and
smoke. The projectiles burned away to nothing before they reached
the audience, leaving behind a layer of smoke that partially
obscured the ceiling. With the spectacle they created, no one paid
attention to the ceiling curving above the stage and the dust
falling off.