“Here,” he says, waving a beer under my nose before handing it to me. “This will make it easier. Big crowds like this always affect the senses, but you will get used to it the more you are exposed. Once you become ringmaster, you will be doing it all the time. Your senses will adjust.”
“How did you know?” I ask him in surprise, and he taps his ears.
“We all have enhanced senses, so I heard you telling John. When you get more experienced, you will be able to pinpoint one conversation even in a crowd this big.”
Grabbing the beer from him, I take a sip before turning up my nose. It’s definitely not as nice as the last alcoholic beverage I tried, but I guess they can’t very well offer that to humans.
Looking around the area closest to us, I watch a small child a few seats away, bouncing up and down in her seat. The pure happiness on her face as she waits for the show to start is infectious, and I grin and wiggle in my seat as well. After a quick conversation with the adults sitting with her, she starts furiously waving her arms up and down to get the attention of the man selling balloons a few rows away. He starts moving toward them, slowly going to get through the rows.
“I don’t recognize that man selling the balloons.” I gesture to the guy when he gets to the little girl, an indulgent smile on his face. I might not know all the names yet or have the ability to pronounce their species correctly, but I’m good with faces. Call it one of the few perks of being a bartender.
“No, you wouldn’t,” John says, taking a sip of the beer that William handed him. “We hire locals to sell the concession stuff.” The man hands over a balloon and a glow stick that looks like a multicolored firework. “Most of them have full-time jobs, but it’s a little extra they can earn, as we are after-hours. They help with ushering, concession stands, and merchandise. The humans come in around showtime and leave straight after. It’s a way for us to establish good will with the locals,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal.
William interrupts John, adding his own two cents. I’m starting to think the grandpas can’t have any conversation that’s not a team effort. “That will be one of your jobs. After tonight, we’re going to throw you in the deep end. We will be getting you to work with the show both behind the scenes and with the performers.”
“Yes,” agrees John, “in Nevada, we’ll let you handle the screening and employment of the locals,andyou will start working with one of the acts.” He mulls this over. “Not the first act, I don’t think. Not much you can do to help with that one unless you have some kind of juggling, fire breathing, or knife throwing skills you haven’t told us about?” He raises an eyebrow at me, but I shake my head.
“Not to mention the tension between you and Caspian,” William mutters beside me. I throw a dirty look his way, knowing he totally deserves it, what with theenhanced sensesand all. Gramps definitely knew I would hear that comment.
“We’re not even going to continue that discussion at the moment. I don’t have time for men, nor do I even want a man, considering all that’s going on. Plus, if I’m in as much danger as you say, how can I ever learn to trust that they want me and not the circus?” I finish off in a soft voice. William glances away, but not before I catch the hint of sympathy in his eyes.
“The mark will fade if it is not a true romantic attachment. If they are faking it for personal gain, it will disappear. And then I will kill them,” he says matter-of-factly.
“And I will bury them,” says John. “Actually, I may feed them to the Magila worm on Stol.” I’m not actually sure how to respond to that sweet sentiment, so I let it go.
The lights start to dim before I can even respond. A noisy wave of anticipation spreads through the crowd and then drops to nothing but the occasional cough or throat clearing. A spotlight shines down, illuminating a figure standing in the middle of the circus ring. It looks like he appeared out of nowhere. Eric strikes a pose like he’s Madonna circa the nineties, and his clothes definitely fit the bill too. He has sequins all over his jacket, looking like a glitter ball on steroids, but the overall effect is amazing. Top hat, cane, and long black boots over his jodhpur-style black pants. Slightly different to the outfit in my closet. The man is truly a show pony. If he hadn’t been married to my grandma, I would think we batted for the same team. He has the crowd on the edge of their seats and in the palm of his hand.
“Welcome to the Galaxy Circus.” He spreads his arms wide, cane in one hand, as his voice projects around the dome, the microphone in his lapel amplifying his voice. He turns in a circle as he continues to speak.
“Welcome to an evening of excitement, enjoyment, and eye-opening extravagance.” Smoke drifts across the floor, surrounding him and drawing the eye of the audience to ensure they are focused on him. “We have performers that will blow your mind. Your eyes will not believe what is happening before you, yet it is truly real. After tonight, you will walk away questioning everything you have ever believed.” He starts to strut his way through the drifting smoke, heading to one end of the arena and drawing the audience’s eyes with him, away from where the first act will appear.
I can see hints of movement in the dark as the performers and crew move all their props into place, some of it done by hand and some with some “special” assistance.
“First up to tantalize your senses, we have a troupe of performers whose skills are out of this world. You will see jugglers with amazing hand-eye coordination. You will see knife throwers with deadly accuracy and fire breathers with flaming talents. You will see things that you will not believe. Sit back and hold on tight to your seats, ladies and gentlemen. Here is State of Fluxx!” He disappears in what looks like a flash of smoke right before a blaze of light appears down the other end. Dylan, Caspian, and troupe are all there, the men wearing tight pants but nothing on their torsos. The women are wearing one-piece bodysuits with sequins scattered artfully over them. There are plates, batons, balls, and rings flying every which way. One group is surrounding a man riding a unicycle while holding balancing poles, the others throwing plates on them. The plates are stacking up, but he continues to balance them with ease.
There’s another group, three men and a woman, juggling glowing rings between them. They throw the rings back and forth, up and down, everything happening so fast it’s hard to focus. I can see Dylan juggling those batons that light on fire, unlit as of yet. Off to the side, there’s a man with a woman against a board, throwing ninja stars at her, and in the middle of all these people is Caspian. He’s just standing, watching everything going on.
The audience is transfixed. Every now and again, there is a gasp or a round of quick applause as the performers flourish and bow. One by one, the performers finish and leave the ring in a rush of feet and props until only Dylan and Caspian are left.
The two men start to throw the batons back and forth. Once Caspian has all three, he starts to juggle them in his hands while Dylan spreads his arms wide to show everyone he has nothing in them. When he turns to watch his partner, Caspian throws the batons higher. All of a sudden, as one of them reaches the zenith of its flight, Dylan blows out a deep breath. Flames shoot out of his mouth, setting the baton alight, and the audience gasps in unison. All around me, the whispers start.
“How did he do that?”
“Wow, did you see that?”
By now all three are flaming, and Caspian begins sending them back to Dylan. He catches them and whips them around his body—up and down, through his legs, under and over. All of a sudden, he starts catching them all in one hand. While the crowd is waiting on the edge of their seats, eager to see what’s coming next, he holds one of the batons high for showmanship then puts the flame into his mouth and closes his lips around it, putting it out.
“How does he do that?”
“Doesn’t it burn his mouth?”
“Maybe he really is a dragon.”
One by one, he puts out the batons, smoke swirling around his head and billowing out of his mouth every time he opens it to put out another flame. More artificial smoke drifts across the arena and up into the stands, joining the haze left over from the batons. It’s very cleverly done. The artificial smoke also has a distinct smell to it, which must be what the grandpas were telling me about on the first day. Makes people suspend their disbelief while fogging their senses ever so slightly.
He puts out all the flames then takes a flourishing bow. The audience erupts into applause while Dylan puts the batons down and steps to the side, giving Caspian the centerstage spot. He’s holding eight balls in his hands, all glowing brightly. He hands five to Dylan then starts juggling the other three, and after a while, Dylan starts throwing extra balls into the mix. By the end, Caspian is juggling all eight. As this happens, Eric reappears on the stage in a flash of smoke. “Audience of all ages, are these men not amazing?”
“It’s good but nothing I’ve never seen before.”
