Page 4 of Circus From Hell

Snake doesn’t give up as I descend the single step to land on the grass. He crawls down my body and stops in front of me, pressing his head against my ankle to try and push me. Does he not realise that he weighs less than a finger?

As I step around him, a clang from inside the forbidden trailer snags my attention, and Snake freezes. I stare at the padlock. Is someone in there? If it’s locked, then it’s not Kreo, and that means someone’s in there when they shouldn’t be.

Snake scurries up my leg as I sneak over to the back end of the trailer. There are no windows, but when I look closer at the bottom, I notice a tiny ridge in the metal. A small opening that I could poke an eye through.

I place the jar onto the floor, fall onto my knees, and crawl forward, the dewy grass dampening my jumpsuit as I creep closer to the crack in the metal. Snake moves to sit on top of my head, waiting for me to get close enough.

The hole is smaller than my eye, and when I press as far as I can go, I’m met with darkness. That is, until my glowing eyes adjust to the sudden change, and I can see the shadowed edges of objects forming. It’s too dark to make anything out, but opposite me, I see something move briskly in the darkness.

Another bang. It sounds like metal.

I move away, knowing that this is wrong, and pick the jar back up, running to Kreo’s tent. I can’t tell him what I was doing.

But what was that?

“Ah, perfect girl, thank you!” Kreo says with a big smile as I step inside and hand him the jar. “Now get some rest. You too, Project One.”

Snake immediately jumps from my head to run out of the tent, and Kreo is already back to focusing on the needle and thread in his hand as he sews up the cockroach’s stomach.

CHAPTER TWO

ARLO

Ilove the circus.

Ever since I was a child, thanks to my mother, it’s been a place I find exciting and comforting, wondrous and powerful. No two circuses are the same, and that’s why they’re so stimulating. It’s not often that they come to this small city.

My feet have fallen in time with Micha’s as we cross the road, and when I turn to look up at him, he has a grim expression on his face. He’s not the biggest fan of the circus, but he makes the sacrifice for me.

When the back of my hand not-so-accidentally brushes the back of his, I feel sparks zip up my arm. He looks down at me to meet my gaze, and the corner of his lips lifts in this smirk that always makes my heart pound. Before I can focus on that feeling, I pull away.

It doesn’t matter what I secretly feel for this man. It doesn’t matter what he pretends he feels for me with his wandering eyes. The unspoken connection will remain unspoken. He’s made it clear that he’s not interested in me that way.

We approach the back of the queue as my heartbeat quickens. That classic carnival tune that people seem to find creepy blares out of hidden speakers, and there are murky red and green swirls everywhere we look.

There’s a group of clowns circulating the queue, interacting with their audience before they fill the tent.

Micha hates clowns. I’ve never understood why he’s so freaked out by them; I’ve always enjoyed the different outfits, the various ways they do their make-up—it’s all intriguing.

Everyone’s been raving about this circus. The ‘circus from hell’ they call it. Some have been utterly confused about how they pull it off. Not to mention the fact that they showed up out of the blue and nobody from around here has ever heard of them before. But then I guess this is a tiny city.

“Creepy fuckers,” Micha mutters.

I can’t help but laugh beneath my breath. Micha’s always been tall, at least ever since we met in our late teens, and considerably stronger than me, but he’s more unnerved by the smaller things than I am. Face him with someone breaking into the apartment we share? He’s fine. Put a clown mask on his desk? He’ll burn the place down.

“Don’t worry. I’m here to protect you.” I nudge his ribs.

“You protect me, huh? You couldn’t protect me from a paper bag, Pipsqueak.”

I ignore the way his teasing makes me feel, turning to look at the big poster pinned on the side of the circus tent that I’ve seen plastered all around town. It shows clowns, fire-breathers, tightrope walkers, and, in the middle, is the reason why I’ve been so entranced by this particular circus.

The star of the show.

Atop her head is a neon pink and green jester hat, with two pink balls that she holds between her long fingers, but the whole ensemble almost looks like hair, like two great thick pigtails. Her skin is a very pale blue. She’s dressed in a tight, black, off-the-shoulder jumpsuit paired with a ruffled collar around her throat, and her feet are bare.

Her face is what hooked me. Her smile is unnaturally wide, her dark blue lips pulled up by stitches in the corners, and her green eyes glow so bright, even through the poster, that I feel like they’re staring into my soul.

I’ve never seen anything like it. The make-up team here must be insane.