Pretty sure I didn’t want to find out what his definition of entertainment was. “I don’t think any of us are in the shape to entertain.”
“Do you hear that, Flynn?” The ringmaster twisted his stare back to the mime. “It appears as if our star has stage fright.”
The word star should’ve stuck in my head, but for some reason, all I could think of was,Flynn? Really? That’s his name?
The ringmaster paced closer. His steps echoed against the floor and bounced off the walls, making it feel like he was surrounding me. It was suffocating, and that was before he bent over and leaned in, choking me with his woodsy scent. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t pleasant either.
“Forgive the accommodations, Poppet,” he murmured while brushing a strand of hair from my face with his gloved finger. “But every act requires a stage. Every stage requires an audience…” His stare flickered to the couple, then slid back over to me. “And every show requires a star.”
Star. There was that word again, directed at me. There were three of us here, bound to chairs, yet he singled me out.
I should probably be scared—and I was—but I also didn’t have the energy to fight any more. There was no doubt in my mind that these two psychos were going to do horrific things to us, but did I deserve any less? Besides, I’d given up a long time ago. I was just as much of a ghost as she was.
The crack of the ringmaster’s clap rippled off the ballroom mirrors, making me jerk in my chair.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you are in for a treat tonight. I am the great Felix Finnegan, and this…” He waved at themime. “is my brother Flynn.”
Were we supposed to know those names?
“Fuck you,” Austin spat back at him.
Felix didn’t say anything. He just looked over at Flynn, who moved without hesitation, closing the distance between us in three long strides. The knife plunged into Austin’s bare thigh.
My stomach lurched at the wet sound of his flesh tearing.
Austin’s guttural scream ripped through the ballroom, drilling his anguish into my skull until my ears rang.
His body bucked forward before the straps yanked him back, causing his chair to screech against the floor.
I stared as blood welled up thickly around the hilt of the knife. It streamed down his leg in bright red lines, tracing over muscle, then dripping off his knee onto the warped floor.
The drugs in my system kept my heartbeat calm, which made the entire thing feel surreal.
As more blood pooled under Austin’s chair, I found myself thinking that the knife jutting out from his leg looked like a flagpole, and Flynn had just declared Austin’s thigh his sovereign nation. I even snickered a little at the thought.
It wasn’t right, I knew that, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I barely noticed Gina stirring in the chair beside him.
Flynn left the blade buried for a moment, then slowly dragged it free. The steel gleamed bright crimson in the light as the liquid poured down, staining Flynn’s pristine, white glove.
Austin gasped and let out a sob as his leg convulsed against the restraint. He was obviously in a lot of pain, but I couldn’t stop staring at the mime’s glove.
It seemed wrong that blood stained something so crisp and clean.
“That’s going to be a bitch to clean.”
I don’t know why I said that. Then again, I don’t know why I was so focused on his glove either. I wasn’t obsessive about cleaning. Hell, my car probably had five pounds of junk-food wrappers in the back seat. But for some reason, the stains on his hands really bothered me.
Felix’s head snapped toward me. For a heartbeat, the room went quiet.
Austin’s anguished groans slowed, Gina’s muffled whimpers stopped, and even the storm outside seemed to hold its breath.
Then Felix laughed.
It wasn’t loud. It was a low, dark chuckle that wrapped tightly around us.
Flynn’s painted-on grin fixed on me as he tilted his head. He lifted the knife and dragged the flat of the blade over the bloodstains on his glove, smearing the crimson darker. Then he pressed the steel against his chest, over his heart, and bowed.
That was just plain rude. Now there was blood on his shirt.
