Then, the buzzing stopped.
Keara sucked in a breath before roaring with rage. She whirled around and faced Esmeralda, who still held the baton. She jumped back before Keara could snag her.
Esmeralda smacked the baton on her palm, trying to get the electrical currents to work again. “Come on. Come on. Light back up, you fiend!”
Shakily, Keara rose to her feet. “I’m going to kill you, you little…”
Esmeralda swung her arm out and cracked the general across the chin.
General Keara wavered for a second. Her ankle wobbled when she stepped on Esmeralda’s slipper, and she lost her balance. A yelp escaped her before she tumbled over the catwalk railing.
Someone in the audience screamed.
Esmeralda stood there, her eyes wild with shock.
More screams rang out from below.
Esmeralda flung the baton out of her grasp as if it were onfire.
“Holy shit,” she panted. “I…I killed General Keara.”
Ignacio scrambled to his feet. He eased toward Esmeralda like she was a wounded animal. “It’s okay,” he said in a soothing tone. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Her brows rose, and she blinked. “Oh, I don’t feel bad, if that’s what you think.”
Ignacio balked. “You don’t?”
“Well, sure, I do in a killing-is-immoral kind of way. Iamhuman, but…General Keara was a witch. And not the good kind.” She patted Ignacio on the shoulder. “Come on, we have to keep going while the audience is thoroughly horrified and distracted.”
Ignacio could do nothing but snort. That was his girl. She was the fiercest person he’d ever known.
Together, they raced across the catwalk and clambered down the raggedy rungs of an attached ladder. The second both pairs of feet were on the ground inside a small dressing room, they ran toward the exit.
He grabbed Esmeralda and yanked her behind a clown buggy seconds before three of the ringmaster’s ratas ran into the room they had just left.
More of the ringmaster’s guards came.
Their hiding spot wouldn’t work for long.
His eyes roamed the backstage area. There were no other exits. He needed to come up with something quick. He spotted a costume lying in two pieces on the ground not far from where they were hidden.
“I’m going to grab those,” he mouthed.
He crouched low. Slowly, he poked his head out from behind the buggy. When the guards had their backs to them, Ignacio stretched forward and snatched one of the pieces. He handed it to Esmeralda before peeking at the guards again. One of the ratas turned. Ignacio snapped back, held his breath, and waited.
A small group of dancers walked in, the sequined chains on their hips swishing. In hushed and horrified tones, they spoke about the general’s death, about the ringmaster suddenly falling ill. The ratas standing guard had the decency to look away as one of the performers stripped out of her garment. Ignacio used the distraction to snatch the second piece of the costume.
“Good riddance,” one of the ladies said. “That woman was a witch.”
Esmeralda gave him a look as if to saySee.
“She was the comandante’s hound,” the dancer continued. “They have already run through all our soldiers in the war, so now they have to go after anyone they can. They took my little brother to the front lines as a punishment for stealing boots.”
The performers grumbled and spoke of other stories they’d heard.
“All I know is that I’m sorry Paloma didn’t take a tumble too because I’d sure like a shot with that beau of hers,” a young woman with curly red hair said.
“You’re terrible,” the dancer next to her replied.
