Page 85 of Chaos Carnival

“Ladiesandgentlemen!”Myvoice resonated through the big top, carrying power that made humans' souls lean toward oblivion. “Prepare yourselves for wonders that will make you question everything!”

The crowd's fear was perfect—not the jagged, unwilling terror that Ivan had ripped from victims, but something artfully cultivated. They wanted to be afraid. Needed it.

But something felt wrong. The mate bond stretched like a wire about to snap, making my chest ache with familiar dread. Tess had warned me this would happen, had seen it coming. I'd been foolish to hope that she'd been wrong, just this once.

“I give you...” I paused for dramatic effect, knowing the moment required theatricality, even as anxiety clawed at my chest. “The Sisters of Shadow!”

The big top plunged into total blackout, pulling screams from the audience. Two figures descended in a rain of silver dust, their Victorian-era costumes a throwback to when they'd made their pact with Lilith in 1889. Their bodies moved with impossible grace, bones seeming to bend and reform as they spiraled downward. Lilith's magic wrapped around them like living ink, creating shapes that human minds couldn't quite process—wings that weren't wings, faces that weren't faces, beauty that hurt to look at.

The Sisters twisted around each other until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. The darkness responded to their movement, stretching and warping to create scenes of ancient battles, lovers' embraces, deaths and rebirths. The crowd's fear took on a sharp edge of awe as human minds struggled to rationalize what they were seeing.

As they reached their finale, a move that shocked and awed, I slipped away. The mate bond's warning had become impossible to ignore. Something was happening.

The fairgrounds radiated with harmonized energy as I strode toward her tent, acknowledging the various performers who'd joined our little carnival of wonders. But the moment I pushed aside the heavy purple curtain, I knew.

The tent was empty of everything except magic.

Her tarot cards formed a perfect spiral on the table, each one placed with deliberate precision. Candles burned with unnatural flames, their light creating dark fingers that seemed to point toward something indefinite.

“Monstre?” I called, though I knew she'd seen this moment coming. Had probably arranged it herself.

The mate bond pulled at my chest like a fishhook, telling me she was beyond my reach. Again.

“Oscar, where is she?” I snatched up the crystal skull from its velvet cushion, my fingers tight around the smooth surface.

“My dear boy, do calm yourself. The dramatics are hardly necessary.” Oscar's cultured voice dripped with his usual sardonic wit.

“Cut the shit.” The skull's eye sockets glowed with faint amusement. “Did she tell you where she was going?”

“Ah, that would be a rather firm 'no.' Our dear Tess has become quite adept at keeping her own counsel these days.”

I fought the urge to hurl the skull across the tent. “You're supposed to watch her!”

“I'm a disembodied consciousness trapped in crystal, darling. I observe. I comment. I occasionally offer wickedly astute observations. I do not, however, possess the ability to physically restrain anyone from their chosen course of action.”

The mate bond pulled sharper, making me wince. “Fuck.”

“Such eloquence. I can see why she's so taken with you.” Oscar's tone softened. “She knows what she's doing, Maverick. She always has.”

“That's what scares me.” I set the skull back down with more care than I felt. The bond stretched thinner, telling me she was getting further away.

The cards on the table told a story I didn't want to read, especially the one placed at the spiral's center with mathematical precision.

The Tower. And beneath it, a raven's feather.

My shadows writhed with helpless rage as I lifted the feather. It was massive, primordial. No modern bird had feathers like this. It hummed with vitality that spoke of ages past, of arcana older than seraphim or demons.

A scream pierced the night. Not the carefully cultivated fear we harvested, but raw terror that tasted like metal and destiny. The sound pulled at me even as I recognized it as part of whatever game Tess was playing with fate.

Every instinct screamed to tear the world apart looking for her. But I straightened my coat, arranged my features into the practiced smile of a showman, and prepared to perform the hardest act of my existence—pretending I didn't know my mate had stalked into the night without me.

The big top's atmosphere hit me like a wave of chaos. The Sisters of Shadow hung suspended in mid-descent, their bodies creating impossible geometries as Lilith's magic turned them into living nightmares. Blackness writhed around them, forming scenes from humanity's collective unconscious. The crowd's terror had an edge of ecstasy to it, their minds trying to accommodate wonders they couldn’t possibly comprehend.

I strode into the spotlight, each step precise and measured. The audience's energy crashed over me – their fear and awe, a feast I couldn't stomach now, not knowing Tess was out there, facing some unknown dark prophecy.

“Exquisite, aren't they?” I projected my voice to the highest seats, where even the void seemed to dance. “A testament to the darkness that lies within us all.”

The crowd's nervous laughter followed my script. I smiled, all teeth and ancient hunger, while my eyes scanned the tent for any sign of Stone or Lux. For any hint that this was all going to be okay. Nothing.

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