Page 7 of The Circus

“What, my job?” I ask, returning my gaze to his. We stand eye to eye, and something sinister and familiar flickers back at me through that unrelenting stare. After a heavy moment that has all oxygen squeezing from my lungs, he answers me coldly.

“Your humor.”

He turns for the hall with an uneven gait, and I follow, unsure of what else to do whilst annoyed I’m here. I should be at Cash’s, pestering him to go and find Eden with me.

“Name’s Vic,” he calls over his protruding shoulder bone. “I’ll be your handler, but you need to meet Danny Boy first.”

“Joy,” I mutter. Anything related to Richard Bird is automatically detestable to me. I’m sure his son will be just as vile, but hopefully not as cunning.

“What’s he like?” I ask to his back as we near the end of the hall. Doors line either side, each one sporting a rusted padlock. Although I’m not one to shy away from the dark and macabre, those doors and locks and all they stand for have unease creeping along my spine and sinking its teeth in.

Vic snorts, pausing next to a door on the left. He turns, his eyes now holding within them a keen sort of interest. “See for yourself, kid.”

He pushes the door open with a splayed hand, and I peer around the corner into a dank, makeshift office. Old furniture litters the space, along with a dusty desk and a crumbling fireplace. In the middle, two high backed Victorian chairs rest, a chess board nestled between them. Dick occupies one chair, and his spitting image—though twenty years younger—sits in the other.

Glancing at Vic, I salute him solemnly and step inside, eyes catching on the board. Daniel reaches for a knight, and before he even moves the piece, I know he’s just lost the game. He glances up, boyish hope flittering in his pale blue eyes as he looks upon his father. Dick’s smile is slow to curl on his face.

“That was a shitty move,” I say. Daniel’s eyes snap to mine, annoyance written all over his features. With a heavy sigh, Dick stands and straightens the lapels of his jacket. Red ink dots his thumb and forefinger. I have to wonder what poor students he’s failing now, right at the end of the school year. His eyes find mine from behind aged glasses, and the door sweeps closed, Vic disappearing like a ghost.

“Teddy, the brains I always wanted for my sons.”

Daniel stands, jaw slackened in anger. I can’t help but to smirk at him. Poor little boy never received all of daddy’s love, it seems. I would detest any fond emotions Dick foisted upon me, but seeing his son so disgruntled over that comment is comical to me.

“Keep him on a short leash, or I’ll be forced to step in, understood?” Dick says. It’s Daniel’s turn to smirk at me. I have a feeling I’ll be scraping shit off of toilet seats and changing out urinal cakes for the time being. All Dick let me know was that this was some sort of adult entertainment joint. My guess is that it’s some sort of strip club…where the dancers give moreprivatedances.

If I have to clean jizz from the couches, I’ll gouge Daniel’s eyes out and force him to eat them.

“Of course, father.”

I have to bite my tongue, lest I copy and mimic this childish fucker.

“And Teddy, not a word to Tara, are we clear?”

Tara. Hearing my mother’s name on his fetid tongue makes me want to vomit. Swallowing down my nasty retorts, I hold his gaze and nod. “Crystal.”

He gives me a lingering look meant to intimidate, and then leaves wordlessly. It’s far colder in his absence, and I let my eyes wander around the space, committing it to memory. “What move would you have made?”

My eyes snap back to Daniel’s like a rubber band. He’s genuinely curious. Tilting my head to the chess board, I say, “Your queen was in position to take that bishop, then he would’ve been fucked. It was a risk he took because he knew you wouldn’t see it.”

His eyes trace the board, and he slowly bobs his head as though he understands.

“How old are you?”

Strange question.

“Eighteen,” I say, sizing him up in case he likes little boys as much as his father does. He’d be an easy kill, but the ramifications wouldn’t be worth it. My mother’s life hangs precariously in the balance, always. If it were just me, all ofthese sick fucks would already be dead. As it stands, I have to be careful with my impulses and reactions.

He nods again, crossing his arms, his suit old but tailored. “You’ll do whatever Vic tells you to do. We need a backup circus master, since the fuck is as old as dirt.”

And about two steps away from being buried in it.

“Circus master?” I parrot, confused. Where the fuck did my assumptions go wrong? But a slow, snakelike smile forms on his lips as he nods.

“Yes.”

My brows raise, relief washing over me.

“So where are the abused elephants and dancing bears?” I ask, motioning around the office.

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