“Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages: Welcome to the strangest show on Earth.”
Frieda’s smooth, German voice carried through the thick curtain of the big top as she began her opening speech. Rayth could hear it faintly from where he stood waiting in the clown alley. Her intonation was theatrically loud but still held a hypnotic, soothing quality that beckoned one to relax as she introduced the show. A tribute to her faerie magic, he guessed.
“Tonight, you will experience sights and sensations as you never have before.”
Rayth stuck a piece of twine in his mouth and reached up to pull his wild hair back from his face with both hands. As the circus’s blade master, he needed to keep his eyes clear when it was his turn to perform. Throwing daggers and spinning scythes was dangerous enough work without being suddenly blinded by a stray lock of unruly hair. Plus, it would save him the trouble of scrubbing out sweat and face paint once the show was over. The stuff could be as stubborn as gum sometimes.
“I bring to you the most eclectic group of performers Los Angeles has ever seen. Each and every one has a unique talent that will leave you breathless with awe and horror.”
With his hair pinned up in a messy ponytail, Rayth let his hands drop back down to his sides. He exhaled through his mouth, causing his cheeks to puff out as he bounced restlessly on the balls of his feet. He always got jittery right before the start of a show. Even though he knew it was just a means to an end, he really did enjoy performing in front of an audience. It was fun to listen to the gasps and cheers as he showed off his talents, and he wasn’t shy about being the center of attention. He couldn’t wait to go in.
“For their safety and yours, please enjoy the acts without the use of flash photography or any other bright lights. Many of their performances are dangerous and require dedicated focus.”
It was almost time now. Rayth mouthed along with Frieda’s words as she spoke, able to recite her speech by memory after hearing it said so many times now. No matter where the circus stopped, it was always the same thing. The faerie seemed to live by the policy, ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’
“Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the thrills of the world of Cirque du Sombre.”
As soon as the ringmistress finished speaking, the music playing inside the big top rose to a crescendo, and the grand entrance commenced.
Bursting with excitement, Rayth fell in step with the rest of the line as they paraded into the ring. The troupe moved with the rhythm of the melody in a colorful display of costumes designed to dazzle the spectators’ eyes. Every motion was choreographed and artfully executed by the troupers. Changelings flickered and morphed from one form to the next, succubi danced hypnotically, wood sprites twirled on aerial mechanics, and faeries flitted about room, captivating the audience with their spellbinding magic.
Everyone who was able to perform acrobatics did so as well.
Rayth paired up with a werewolf girl named Briella in a duet of graceful cartwheels and flips across the center of the ring. It was the same routine they executed at every show, but the feeling of twisting and turning in the air never ceased to get his heart racing. He could also forget that Briella hated him outside the fabric walls of the big top.
Like most of the other monsters in the circus, she found his loud energy and zeal for life abrasive and often snarled at him when he tried to approach her. Luckily for him, there was no room for personal biases in the ring. During the show, they were all a team whether they got along or not.
He supposed it also helped that he kept his mouth shut during the acts.
The grand entrance probably lasted close to ten minutes, but to Rayth, it felt much shorter. When it was finally over, everyone in the procession filed artistically back out of the big top except for the two oracles who would perform the first stand-alone act. Their eccentric fortune telling and pointing out of specific people in the crowd always excited a morbid curiosity in the spectators. They simultaneously wanted to hear the predictions of their fates yet dreaded to find those gnarled old fingers aimed at them.
Meanwhile, the rest of the troupe retired to the back yard once again.
As soon as he passed out of the house’s sight, Rayth turned to Briella with a toothy grin that showed off his fangs in the low light. “Nice job on that last layout,” he complimented her in a meager attempt to be friendly.
The werewolf girl glanced at him briefly before turning her chin up with an irritable scoff. Her golden braid whipped across her shoulders with the motion. “Just focus on your own part, halfer,” she growled, stalking off to join a group of creatures lounging about the hay bales.
Rayth clicked his tongue at her back. No matter what he tried, some of the other monsters in the circus just couldn’t get past the fact that he had a human for a father. He didn’t understand why they cared so much. He had plenty in common with the rest of them even if he only had half supernatural blood running through his veins.
Unfortunately, half just wasn’t good enough for everyone.
The group Briella had joined were the main culprits among those who didn’t like him, so Rayth didn’t even bother trying to approach them. Instead, he turned around and ambled over to a section of lawn chairs that had been set out for the performers to relax in. The cluster of colorful fabric seats reminded him of moms at a high school soccer game.
With a sigh, he collapsed in the closest one, a gorgeous royal blue chair caked with dust and torn along the back by a werebeast who couldn’t keep his claws to himself. His act was one of the last of the night, so he decided he might as well fit in a nap before his cue.
Sliding down in the seat, he rested his head on the flimsy backrest and closed his eyes. However, he didn’t get a chance to drift off before a familiar voice interrupted him.
“Not you again.”
Rayth opened his eyes to see Oscar standing by his left side with his arms folded moodily and his bushy, orange brows shoved together like a fat caterpillar on his face.
He smiled amusedly, “Hey, pendejo, the only ones allowed back here are kinkers and prop men. Who do you think you’re going to meet?”
“Maybe someone got lost,” Oscar muttered. “Besides, there’s nothing else to do until it’s my turn to go on.”
Like Rayth, most of the other creatures in the circus weren’t fond of the brownie. He had a propensity to cause trouble, since his kind were beings of mischief, and the others didn’t like being pranked or having their belongings swiped from them when they weren’t looking.
In similar positions as outcasts, the two had formed something of a bond.
But that didn’t mean Rayth wouldn’t mess with him.
“You know what?” he lifted his hand to his chin as if suddenly struck by a thought. “I heard a rumor that Briella was talking about you earlier. Word around the yard is that she’s been waiting for you to ask her out.”
“Briella?” Oscar’s eyes went wide and the fuzzy orange caterpillars jumped upward.
Rayth knew the werewolf was exactly his friend’s type: over five feet. He nodded, “Oh yeah. In fact, I think you should ask her now. She might play hard to get, but she’s really been waiting all night.”
“Alright, I will,” Oscar stood up straighter, running a hand through his curly ginger hair. He turned to the group Briella was sitting with and wriggled his shoulders determinedly. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” Rayth grinned, watching the brownie stride over to the temperamental girl like a warrior marching into battle. Even from a distance, he could tell it wasn’t going to go well, but at least he managed to get back at her for calling him a ‘halfer.’ Now, she’d have to put up with Oscar’s flirting for the rest of the night.
Content with his petty revenge, the half-vampire settled down more comfortably in his ragged lawn chair to take a nap.
He slept for almost an hour before he felt a hand on his shoulder, stirring him from his light slumber.
“Your act is in five minutes, Rayth,” Frieda’s smooth-as-honey voice coaxed him awake.
“I’m up,” he yawned broadly, stretching his arms and legs to get his blood flowing again.
The ringmistress left him alone, and he got up to wait by the back curtain while the group before him, a comedic relief troupe of goblins and brownies that Oscar was a part of, finished the rest of their act.
He wondered how many wallets the troublemakers had stolen from the house this time.
Nearby, two of the prop men were already standing by with his gear. One carried a long, black bag for swords and other large blades along with a short bag for daggers and the like. The other was positioned next to an oversized wheel with medieval-looking wrist and ankle straps. Once it was time for his show, they would bring everything out to the ring for him.
As Frieda said, about five minutes passed before an applause erupted from within the big top, and the patrol of tiny men exited through the back.
Rayth held his hand down by his leg for Oscar to “tap out” as was their tradition when they traded out of the ring.
“Funny little fellows, aren’t they?”
He could hear Frieda’s German lilt inside the big top once the cheers died down.
“Prepare to hold onto the edge of your seats, because our next performer will be quite different. Instead of water guns and pies, his weapon of choice is a blade.”
There was a pause, and Rayth could imagine the ringmistress slowly pacing around the edge of the stage to build suspense.
“Our warrior tonight uses the most dangerous equipment, and every trick he performs is at the risk of his own life.”
Well, that was an exaggeration. Rayth smirked to himself. He did use real blades, but he practiced often enough that he could run through the routine with his eyes closed. The faerie was just promoting the “danger” as a way to captivate the crowd even more. If they thought there was a chance he would gore himself in front of them, there was no doubt that they’d be transfixed by the act.
“It is my pleasure to introduce to you: The Reaper of Cique du Sombre.”
That was his cue.
Taking a grounding breath, Rayth picked up his scythe from the stash of circus supplies near the curtain and headed into the big top.
Like the grand entrance, his act was choreographed almost entirely to music. The nonverbal aspect of the show made it easier to persuade the audience to suspend their beliefs and enter the world of the circus.
For his performance, a rapid four-count song played over the loudspeakers while he spun and manipulated his weapon with ease.
Though the staff of the scythe was longer than he was tall, Rayth handled it elegantly. As he made his way around the edge of the ring, he twirled it around his arms and legs and even tossed it into the air where it spiraled briskly before falling back into his outstretched hands. The polished, curved blade flashed sinisterly whenever it caught the light, and he often let it glide close enough to his skin to tease gasps of terror out of the spectators.
This first part of his routine was predominantly acrobatic, and he incorporated plenty of cartwheels, handstands and backflips amongst the tricks he did with the scythe. He used to get dizzy from all the motion when he’d first started out, but after practicing for so long, he was much better at keeping his head on straight while the circus felt like it was spinning around him.
After about five minutes, the music slowed down considerably, signaling the transition to the second part of his act.
Rayth stopped by the smaller bag the prop man had put out, setting his first weapon down on the ground and picking up a few daggers. He tossed one in the air and caught it in his hand. After repeating the motion two more times, he added a second dagger and then a third until he was juggling the blades to the beat of the song.
The crowd went wild for the thrill of the perceived danger.
At the end of the short part, Rayth threw each small blade over his shoulder at the wheel behind him and proceeded to walk around the edge of the ring. He wore a thoughtful expression as his red eyes scanned through the house.
Catching on to what he was doing, most of the people in the first few rows of the grandstand shied away from his gaze, trying to avoid being selected as an audience participant.
Not all of them got away unseen.
After a brief period of searching, Rayth spotted a man who looked to be in his mid-fifties sitting in the front with his wife and two children. He hopped over the barricade that separated the performers from the towners and offered his hand in a theatrical bow.
The man turned red and shook his head to refuse the request, but every seasoned performer knew not to give up with the first denial.
Rayth beckoned him again, getting closer this time to take the man’s hand that he had held up to ward the entertainer off.
This time, his kids pitched their support.
There was no way for him to get out of it now.
With a groan, the man finally rose from his seat to the eager cheers of the audience, and allowed Rayth to lead him over to the big wheel.
When they reached it, Rayth mimed for the reluctant participant to stay put while he grabbed a small step ladder from the edge of the ring.
The man’s eyes widened as he seemed to realize what he’d been selected to do, but as he turned to get away, the performer cut him off with a scolding gesture and spun him back around to face the wheel.
It took some coaxing, but after nearly a minute, Rayth managed to persuade his nervous participant to let him strap him to the device.
Once that was done, he stepped down from the ladder and kicked it aside, leaving the man to dangle freely while he waggled a throwing knife in front of the house. He took a few paces away from the wheel and then turned around, holding the blade by his ear and stretching out his arm as he took an exaggerated aim.
After repeating the motion a couple times, he hurled the knife at his target. It embedded itself in the wood just to the right of the man’s waist, and the spectators howled their approval.
Rayth threw two more knives that landed to the participant’s left side and above his head before pausing to bring his hand to his chin, as if he was displeased.
Trotting over to the wheel, he gripped the edge and gave it a push to make it start spinning.
The man paled as Rayth took up his position to throw his knives again, but he had nothing to worry about. The half-vampire had better eyesight than any pureblooded human could ever hope to achieve. He knew he wouldn’t miss.
Rayth threw three more knives at the poor sap before he finally released him.
As soon as the man was back on his feet, he staggered back out of the ring, knock-kneed from both dizziness and fright.
The crowd laughed in amusement and the music changed one more time as Rayth got ready for the last part of his act.
Reaching into the larger bag, he drew a sword, which he brandished for everyone to see.
He paraded the blade in a short circle before coming to a stop in the center of the circus ring. Tilting his head back, he turned the weapon around in his hand and lowered it into his open mouth. The sword slid almost up to the hilt as he swallowed it, and he let go briefly to give a curt bow—or more accurately bend at the knees, since he couldn’t lean forward without impaling himself—before he pulled it back out.
As expected, the house went wild for the finale, and he bowed again with a little more flair while Frieda returned to the big top announce the next act.
During her short speech, Rayth collected the scythe he’d left on the ground and returned to the clown alley. With his solo performance finally out of the way, all that was left was to wait for the show to end and the after party to begin.
He couldn’t wait.
“Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages: I do hope you enjoyed tonight’s show,” Frieda projected from the center of the ring. The last act of the night had just ended, and the time had come to dismiss the crowd. Her crystal-like eyes swept over the delicious faces of each human in the audience. Most of them would be going home shortly, but her faeries had been hard at work throughout the last hour and a half selecting those who would be invited to attend the circus’s private after party. The lucky few would become dinner for her entourage of monsters that night.
“As I’m sure many of you know, we have a tradition here at Cirque du Sombre,” she continued, smiling mysteriously out at the house. “The time has come for you to look beneath your seats and find out if you’ve been chosen to join us for our exclusive, after-dark entertainment. If you find a black envelope, it means you are welcome to attend. Just show your invitation to the bouncers at the back curtain, and they will let you in.”
Hey blue eyes drifted over the crowd once more only to land on the face of a young, blue-haired girl. “I hope you’ll find it in your interest to join us. Goodnight, everyone.”
With that, she disappeared through the back of the big top, and the grandstands came to life as the sea of people began to disperse.
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