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	The back yard was bustling with activity as the circus performers prepared for their last show in Los Angeles that night. Clowns, bally girls, and freak shows of every shape and size milled about the dressing area as they put their costumes together, moving with the purpose and haste of worker bees in a hive. Most of them didn’t speak much, but it was always this way. The energy of the guests in the front yard was buzzing, but the troupers themselves operated with steely focus. All they cared about was one thing: The after party.
	It was the reason they were here, and it was the reason why they performed. After all, every face in the crowd belonged to a supernatural creature just waiting to feed on their human audience tonight.
	Werewolves and banshees and gremlins and more all gathered together to hunt and catch their prey with an efficiency the monster world had never seen before. During each show they put on, a troupe of faeries would traverse the house, leaving black, satin cards underneath the seats of selected guests in the grandstands. Each card was an invitation to the circus’s highly exclusive after party.
	At the end of the night, the ringmistress, an exquisite German beauty who commanded a room with her six-and-a-half-foot stature, would tell the house to look beneath their bleachers, and the crowd would be left mystified as to how and when the Chosen Ones were picked.
	No matter what the answer was, almost everyone who attended the shows put on by Cirque du Sombre secretly wanted to be selected. The after party was a mystery. Everyone who attended it claimed they couldn’t remember anything that happened. Some believed they were lying to keep the circus’s secret, while others grew ever more curious to attend and find out for themselves.
	The growing reputation boded well for the troupers. With the prey practically throwing themselves into their waiting fangs, it had become easier than ever before for the monsters to have their fill of blood, spirit, or whatever their preferences may be. Thus, they were eager to get through the task of the performance and move on to the moment they had all been waiting for.
	Their focused silence was only interrupted by sound of two voices.
	“That hair of yours makes you look like a woman, you know.” A small, skinny man perched on the edge of a hay bale with his stick-like legs dangling over the edge and his toothpick arms crossed over his chest. He was more than small, in fact, he was completely miniscule. If he had been standing upright on the ground, he would have been no taller than three feet. He liked to claim he was tall for his type though. Most brownies topped off at two-foot-ten.
	“Are you ever going to cut it?” the tiny man went on with the gravelly tone of a Scottish chain smoker. “It would be nice to walk up behind you for once without expecting a pretty face.”
	“I don’t know what difference it would make,” a second voice replied, younger and richer than the former. “You don’t have a better shot with any woman than you do with me, and you know it, Oscar.” The teenage-looking boy turned away from the platform he was stretching his leg against to cast the brownie a mocking smile. To Oscar’s point, he had a full head of brown hair that fell to his shoulders in tangled waves, and a lean frame to match, though his was much larger compared to the short man.
	With just a pair of black pants to adorn his body, he showed off quite a bit of tan skin and a toned torso decorated with a large, black tattoo. However, his most striking features were the blood red irises that ringed his pupils and the long fangs in his mouth. Both were traits he had inherited from his vampire mother.
	“[i]Tch[/i],” Oscar clicked his tongue. “You can’t say that. I just haven’t met the right one yet.”
	“That’s because all the girls you chase after are two feet taller than you,” Rayth rolled his eyes, alternating his stance to stretch his other leg. It was good form to get all the kinks out before a show. “Everyone who comes to the circus is here to gawk at freaks, not go on dates. Try talking to one of the faeries instead. I heard they like flowers.”
	“So, I have a type,” Oscar grumbled. “I like a tall, strong woman. What’s wrong with that?”
	“Nothing,” Rayth bit back a laugh. There was never any point in trying to change the stubborn man’s mind once it had been made up. The brownie was a hopeless romantic of a midget who was convinced his soul mate would show up at the circus someday. “Who knows? Maybe I’m wrong and some enormous, five-foot fireball will fall head over heels for you.” Finished loosening his muscles, he stepped over to the hay bale to lean over his friend with a smirk. “Just quit ogling me from behind, will ya? It’s getting creepy.”
	“Cut your lady locks, and we have a deal,” Oscar retorted dryly.
	Rayth just snorted in response and turned away from him to join the rest of the performers, who were beginning to gather near the clown alley. The opening of the show would be starting soon, and they were expecting a straw house this time. Word about the circus had spread all over southern California, and since it was the last night before they packed up for the next jump, every ticket had sold out.
	Even the sideshows had been packed all evening with people who wanted to get a glimpse of the traveling wonder before it was too late. Oddities that Rayth considered boring next to the grand show were treated like precious miracles of nature. He had a feeling the spectacles in the big top were going to make this crowd go wild.
	As the monsters congregated, they all centered around one figure: the ringmistress, Frieda Sommer, who stood before them prepared to give the same speech she always did at the start of their shows. Her crystalline blue eyes swept over the throng of creatures, slightly intimidating in their intensity. It was as if she could see more than everyone else, though no one was sure if it was true. As a faerie, she could choose to don whatever appearance she liked best. This imposing skyscraper of a body just happened to be her favorite look, and the glass-colored irises that came with it were her preference as well.
	Still, Rayth wouldn’t have been surprised if she knew more than she let on. Frieda always seemed to have an answer for everything, like a Magic 8 ball that was never wrong. He, like all the rest of the circus, trusted her to make the best decisions for them as their leader. She hadn’t let them down so far.
	“Sisters and brothers,” the faerie began once everyone was listening. She had a familial way about her and a smooth, full voice that drew Rayth in like a fly to honey. Even though he’d heard her speech a hundred times, he didn’t mind sitting through it again.
	As he waited for her to go on, he felt a sudden bump against his leg. Glancing down, he saw that Oscar had scuttled up beside him and was waiting with his arms expectantly outstretched. The communication was silent but effective. He picked the brownie up and let him sit on his shoulders, so the small man could see the ringmistress’s alabaster face above the crowd.
	Frieda committed to the usual recital about her fondness of their shows thus far, her confidence that the next one would be just as good, and a brief reminder that no one was to touch any humans until the after party had begun. It was a pretty standard message, but before anyone had a chance to walk away, she added one more piece that they hadn’t heard before.
	“And if anything unusual happens tonight, I expect you all to be flexible,” the faerie smiled warmly. “Have a good show, everyone.”
	With that, she turned around and disappeared into the big top, leaving them with no further explanation.
	As soon as she was gone, the troupe members began organizing themselves into their respective performance groups and lining up down the length of the clown alley. Everything about their movements was like clockwork after years of practice. However, Rayth wasn’t as quick to join them.
	“What was [i]that[/i] about?” he frowned, peering up at Oscar who was still seated on his shoulders. “It’s our last night in LA. What’s different about this show that she felt like she had to prepare us for?”
	“How should I know?” the brownie wriggled uncomfortably. “Put me down, Rayth. I have to get ready to join my group.”
	The half-vampire complied wordlessly with Oscar’s request and then watched him scamper off to the rest of the brownies before he moved to take up his own space in line. As baffled as he was by Frieda’s warning, there wasn’t any time to think about it. The grand entrance for all the performers was first on the agenda, and he needed to stay grounded so he wouldn’t mess up his part.
	He took a deep breath as the line started to move.
	[i]Let the show begin.[/i]