Lilith Saintcrow - Fresh Circus

For a few seconds the words refused to make sense. Then they slammed home, and I took a deep breath. My face felt very cold, and I suspected I’d gone even paler than my usual night-working fishbelly. “You’re kidding.” It was the only thing I could think of to say.

“You see?” Perry’s grin didn’t alter in the slightest. “I vouch for her shock, brother. My Kismet is altogether too intelligent for such a blatant act.”

“Shut up, Hyperion.” The Ringmaster’s cane dipped. He watched me, his orange gaze swirling with dust and crawling all down my body. “You will swear you had no part in this, hunter?”

“For Christ’s sake.” I resisted the urge to draw a knife, or better yet, limber my gun up and make the world a better place with a few well-placed headshots. “The hostage is your good behavior. Why the hell would I want to attack any of your people?” Other than their being hellbreed, which is enough reason to seriously tempt me.

“To erase the rest of—” The Ringmaster’s eyes flicked toward Perry, who pursed his lips. A number of things occurred to me just then, and I actually had to stuff my tongue into my cheek and bite down to keep from making a snarky comment.

They were actually thinking I’d go after the entire Cirque, given enough reason. But the Ringmaster wouldn’t be so upset unless he seriously thought I had a chance at actually pulling it off.

It was an unintentional compliment. Being feared by hellbreed isn’t a nice thing, but it’s damn useful, and pleasant when it can smooth your way a little bit.

My heart rate eased a little bit. Saul crowded closer behind me. The bell on the door jangled slightly, thrumming under the murderous tension. Galina relaxed, fractionally.

“All right.” I tried not to sound relieved. “This is the first I’ve heard about an attack on the Cirque—which I consider just as bad news for me as it is for you. I give you my word I have nothing to do with it. But I’m about to.” I took a deep breath. My pulse smoothed out a little bit more, and my eyes skipped between the two ’breed, each of them vibrating with barely controlled rage. Perry hid it better, but I’ve been around him too much, for too long, to trust his outward appearance. “I’ve got some business to transact with my Sanctuary, here. Then I’ll be out at the Cirque to take a look at what’s going on. I’ll find out who’s behind this and take appropriate action. In the meantime, you’ll keep your noses clean.” Put the sting in the tail, Jill. “Perry, you’ll meet me at the Cirque.”

“I do not—” The Ringmaster began.

“I think it’s best, don’t you?” Perry interjected smoothly, taking a single step closer. “So nobody is tempted to run amok while my dear Kiss is on the scene. It would be so embarrassing to have a hunter become justified in killing a few more of your performers.” He didn’t look at the other ’breed, though. Instead, he was staring at me like he was hungry and I was a bowl of lunch.

I wish I could say I didn’t know that look. But men have been giving it to me all my life.

The other ’breed stared at me, the pumpkin hellfire smearing from his irises not abating one iota. I was suddenly glad we were inside Galina’s shop. If he moved on me she’d drop him—or more precisely, the Sanctuary warding on the walls would. If all else failed, it would give me enough time to put a few silverjacket slugs in him. And maybe sink a knife right into one of those orange-glowing eyes.

“If I find that you are, indeed, involved in this… unfortunate… event—” The cane twirled smartly, the crystal hissing as it clove unresisting air.

That’s the trouble with this job. It’s full of threats, both veiled and naked. After a while it gets ho-hum. Except when you’re dealing with Hell’s scions. The slippery, twisting, twitchy bastards threaten all the time—and they’ll get away with what they can.

“I sure hope that wasn’t a threat,” I remarked to the empty air over his black-spiked head. “Because for a member of the Cirque de Charnu to threaten a resident hunter is exceeding bad taste. Not to mention stupid. And dangerous. And—”

“That’s it.” Galina stepped forward just as the Ringmaster did, a synchronized movement that would have been funny if the hellbreed hadn’t been hissing like a steam kettle. “Both Perry and I vouch for our hunter’s innocence. Go back to your home and wait. You’ve said and done enough here.”

Our hunter. A pucker of hot liquid prickling filled the scar. The bottom dropped out of my stomach. Perry grinned like he had just gotten a Christmas present full of snackable entrails. Galina, however, didn’t notice anything.

Great.

Crackling tension rose another notch. The Ringmaster paced toward me, and I realized he would have to pass very close to get out the front door. I stepped aside, so did Saul, and I did my best to keep myself between him and the ’breed. The smooth incense quiet of Galina’s shop trembled like the skin atop fresh milk. My hands literally itched for a weapon.

The Ringmaster halted for a bare second. Adrenaline spiked through my bloodstream. I caught a whiff of sawdust and glitter, spice and fried food, with the faint thunderous note of rotting underneath. The edges of his red frock coat twitched, as if tiny insect feet were stabbing the threadbare crimson velvet from underneath.

Amazingly, he didn’t stop to threaten me again. He just passed by with a sound like fresh-tanned leather crumpling and banged out the door, leaving a scrim of evil little laughter in his wake. I let out the breath I hadn’t been holding—I’d inhaled deeply, ready for the explosion.

“Now you, Perry.” Thunder smoked and roiled under Galina’s voice. “I’ve business to transact with Jill.”

“What if I do, too?” He grinned and leaned forward, his toes digging into the floor. “Business with my hunter.”

“Perry.” Just the one word. Galina’s eyes turned incandescent. The silver at her throat sparked, a clean springtime green swirling at the surface of the metal. “It would be undignified to be tossed out of here on your ass.”

“True.” He rocked back on his heels, grinned at both of us. “I bid you a civil adieu, then, ladies.” A wink and a flash of pearly teeth between his bloodless lips, and he slid past me like a burning wind. Halfway out the door he vanished, leaving behind strangled little whispers before the door banged closed and I heard footsteps pattering away down the street, far too fast and light to be human.

My shoulders dropped. I let out another, far gustier sigh, and Galina swayed before she pulled herself upright. The glass on the floor quivered again. I watched as the broken pieces of the display case twitched slightly, arranged along spiraling rays of reaction.

Huh. That’s interesting.

Saul’s hands caught my shoulders. “You okay?” He sounded worried.

I realized the scar was twitching against the underside of my arm as if an enthusiastic seamstress was pleating the skin. At least Perry hadn’t really tried to play with it. “Just ducky. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Someone’s looking to kill Cirque performers?”

Galina said it, so I didn’t have to. “Or they have a deeper plan, and they’re going to try to pin anything that happens on you. I don’t like this.”

“Sorry about your display case.” I stared, willing the pattern to come clear, and finally blinked it away when it refused. Hunters always become full-blown psychics before the end of their apprenticeships; damn useful when dealing with the nightside. But sometimes intuition won’t tell you anything. It will just muddy the waters.

I looked up to find the Sanctuary studying me, a line between her dark eyebrows. “Don’t worry about that.” Galina was pale, and shaking just the slightest bit.