Page 7 of Circus From Hell

He looks shy. Sweet to eat. I bet he’ll be tasty.

Drool leaks over my chin, and I’m forced to uncoil myself and step back, my urgency for his flesh tainting my mind uncontrollably. My act is finished. I need to leave. To follow him and kill.

But as I take another step away, the person sitting beside him snags my attention.

A second man, with hair so dark I can barely distinguish it from the air around him. He isn’t looking at me but at the decorated man beside him that I’ve chosen for my feast. Head tilted and dark eyes focused. Compared to the bright-haired man, he’s like a dark horse, taking the light and energy from the air that surrounds him, sucking it into his soul. He looks tasty too. Not adorned with shiny metal, but he looks like a fighter with thick muscles beneath his t-shirt. I like a fighter. A runner.

He isn’t enraptured by my show, but rather, by the side of his friend’s face.

Never mind. I have already chosen my target for tonight. The shiny one will do for now. For tonight.

I’m excited for more jewellery. Maybe I can find somewhere else on my body to stick a needle through. I’ve run out of places.

The tent goes dark as I exit the stage, lighting up again with music blaring through the speakers as the clowns make their way back on, but I need to find Kreo to fix my thigh before the show ends and the crowd parts in the direction of their homes. Because that is when my hunt will begin, and I can’t let my prey get too far.

My right leg wobbles as I walk, the stitching around my thigh coming loose with every step. By the time I reach Kreo’s tent, I’m dragging it along.

There is no door to knock, only a curtain to pull. After he opens the show with a big top hat and matching red jacket, he retreats to his science, his experiments.

“Ah, come in, my child. How was the show?”

I pull up the pant leg of my jumpsuit, revealing the loosened appendage. Kreo places down his instrument and clicks his tongue, turning and patting the metal table in the centre of the room. Without a word, I hop on, letting my legs dangle. Gravity pulls the thread, stretching it further.

“This leg has always been a bit of a nuisance,” he mutters, tugging over a four-layered compartment stand. With his white leather gloves, he picks up a thick needle and a roll of black string.

Kneeling before me, he places my ankle on the base of his thigh, freeing his hands to squeeze the parting in my skin together.

As he pierces the flesh and drags the thread through, I attempt to comprehend what pain would feel like, but it’s entirely unknown to me.

“Have you chosen someone tonight, child?”

Grinning with teeth, I quickly nod, salivating at the thought of getting my tongue against a juicy thigh or stomach. Our last show was two days ago, and I was scarcely satisfied with the woman I’d hunted, so desperation is clawing at the back of my throat for more.

“I want you back in two hours’ time tonight, Karma. This is a new area. You don’t know it well enough yet.” I huff and roll my eyes. He says the same thing every three weeks. Every time we travel. I never know somewhere well enough. “And be gentle with this leg. The glue needs to settle.”

I don’t know why he bothers with the glue after the stitches. We both know it disintegrates after a few days.

After he’s finished sewing and glueing, I pull my jumpsuit leg down and hop off the bed. The bells in the neon pink balls attached to the ends of my hair jingle loudly, making Kreo smile. He’s always called it the ‘death jingle’ or ‘toll of death’, because if you hear it following you, it means you don’t have long left to live. He connected them to my pigtails to teach me how to move quietly before he allowed me out into the world to hunt by myself. I’ve become stealthier with practice, and now the noise is minimal before I pounce.

“Enjoy your evening, child. And what do we remember?” he asks in a tone I’ve overheard a woman in the crowd use to scold her little human.

I huff again. “Only one human.”

“Good girl. Only one human. Now off you go.” He’s quick to return to the cut-open cockroach on his desk, slipping on a pair of magnified goggles and grabbing a set of thin silver tweezers.

I don’t understand what he does or why he does it, but I also don’t question it. Not Kreo. Never Kreo.

As I stalk through the tent halls, being careful on my right leg, the music from the show slips through the tarp. The acrobats will be back on now, which means the show will be over soon. Enough time to get out and find a hiding place.

My attached limbs feel lighter as excitement hums beneath my skin. I’m more thrilled than usual. That man… So striking, so shiny, so fleshy. He’ll make a tasty treat. But as I sneak outside, I can’t stop thinking about the one beside him. Maybe I’ve made the wrong choice. I love sparkly jewellery and men who look like they whimper when I bite into their flesh, but I also love a challenge, a fight.

This is a hard decision.

The dewy grass in the field tickles my feet, flitting through my toes with every step. When I circle round to the front of the tent, the poster beside the entryway catches my attention. It’s always there. My glowing eyes are always there.

I stay behind a wall nearby, peeking my head around the corner so I can watch the tent and all the people who will flood out of it very soon. The sun was starting to set when the show began, so darkness now reigns supreme, my excitement with it. I work well in the shadows thanks to my eyes.

And a human’s fear is always so heightened in the dark. So tasty.