Jerry’s eyes widen as I approach him. I don’t think I have a firm grasp on my anger right now. Not only did he interrupt me while I was talking with the beautiful vixen I can’t get out of my head, but he yelled about a ride malfunctioning when carnival goers already started filling in.
“I’m really sorry, Elias,” he says now as I grab his arm to pull him to the side. “I was just fucking frustrated at this bucket of bolts. I’ve been saying for a year now that we need to replace the circuitry.”
I run a hand down my face. “Order what you need. I’ll allocate the funds for it this week.” They’ll be generously donated by Ezekiel Moore.
Jerry blinks at me, his mouth slightly open. “Really, boss?”
“Really. But Jerry?” I step closer, leveling my gaze on him. “Say shit like that in front of an audience again, and you’re done. Do you understand me?”
Jerry’s throat bobs as he swallows. “I gotcha, boss. Sorry. Won’t happen again. Promise.”
“Make sure it doesn’t,” I say lowly, then turn on my heel, leaving him sputtering.
I need to get ready for the show. Someone very interesting will be in the audience after all.
Silas is in my trailer, working on his sleek and powerful laptop, his feet up on my table.
“That’s unhygienic,” I point out.
“We tag-teamed a chick on it last month,” he shoots back unrepentantly.
Chuckling, I drop down in the booth next to him. “Fair enough.”
Silas and I share women often. After all, they’re all passing dalliances, just as we’re only passing through their small towns and small, boring lives. But for some reason, I don’t mention my blue-haired beauty to him. I feel oddly unwilling to share, like a toddler with a toy. Not that we had many toys to share, being born in the Sanctum of Ash.
I tap my fingers on the tabletop, restless, anticipating feeding my darkest needs on Jules and Ezekiel, though in very different ways. “Jerry’s going to order new circuitry for the carousel. Make sure we have the funds for it, will you?”
Silas smirks, not looking up from his screen. “Hmm. A full control system replacement? PLC, motor controllers, safety shutoffs… Thirty grand should do it. Thank you, Prophet Ezekiel.”
I laugh in satisfaction—I can’t wait to pull up the feed for the camera I hid in Moore’s study later and gloat over his reaction.
“Right. Showtime, brother.” I knock on the tabletop one more time before getting up to collect my coat, cane, and top hat.
“Ah, shit, I lost track of time,” Silas mutters. “I need to make sure the new chains are set up properly for my tank act.”
“Getting wet again?” I tease as he picks up his things.
Silas wags his eyebrows. “It makes the ladies wet in return. Want me to find someone for us tonight?”
I hesitate for a second, then decide to tell him about Jules after all. “I have plans with someone already.”
My brother blinks at me. “Someone special?” he guesses correctly.
Still, I shake my head. “How special can anyone be when we’re only in town for a week or two at most? She just… I need to get her out of my system.”
Silas raises his hands defensively. “Fine, fine. Let me know if you change your mind. Or need help.” He winks and ducks when I throw a damp kitchen towel at his face.
In the Big Top, I scan the crowd for that flash of blue hair. She either isn’t here yet or is sitting somewhere above my position in the staff alcove. I roll my lips together, thinking of the way her top displayed her tits, the way those leather pants clung to the curves of her ass. Instead of focusing on the show, all I can think about is making her scream my name after.
“You seem on edge,” Rowe says from my side. “A bit like a caged animal.” He snickers at his own dumb joke while I expel a gust of air from my nose.
“There’s a woman,” I share as I consult my pocket watch. Just a few seconds more. “A local.”
“Oh,” is all Rowe says. From the corner of my eye, I can see him trace the scars on his wrist.
Rowe had the extreme misfortune to draw the attention of a particularly obsessive Prophet—Samuel Harlan. Even two decades later, Rowe doesn’t let anyone touch him, except for Logan—and the rest of us only when really necessary. If he’s had a consensual sexual encounter, he doesn’t talk about it. I think he only truly trusts his brothers and his animals.
“Ready to show these people why they should part withtheir money night after night in our carnival?” I ask him, drawing his attention away from the broken pieces of his psyche.
