Page 77 of Circus From Hell

Arlo.

Soren grabs my calf and rips it free. I feel broken wood cut through my jeans and skin, but the pain is distant, my focus on Arlo forefront.

Keep screaming. Be alive.

I run up the rest of the stairs and turn into the room straight ahead.

I nearly fall to my knees.

Arlo is in the corner of the room, a ray of moonlight from a broken window shining across his horrified face.

Standing. Breathing. Not dying.

The squelching noise comes from the other corner of the room. Beneath the shadows, I can see the back of a feral person moving frantically, devouring the human beneath them. I see the second dead body to the side, blood and guts covering the floor surrounding them. Their eyes are wide open and unseeing. From their thick clothing, the blankets behind them, and the empty tins of food strewn across the wooden floor, I deduce the fact that they’re homeless and squatting in this abandoned building.

Karma isn’t eating my brother.

Arlo snaps to look at me as I run across the room, and I see the fear slowly seep from his face. I grab the back of his head and hold him to my chest. Arlo’s arms come around my body, squeezing me. Tears of relief and retreating fear slip down my face before I can process them. Arlo’s body racks against me with every sob.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” I whisper, flattening his curly hair with reassuring strokes. “We’re both okay, little brother.”

“Are Soren and Karma okay?” he asks quietly, but the snapping of bones and tearing of flesh haven’t stopped, so I don’t move to check or let him see.

“Soren’s fine. Karma is…” I trail off, unsure how to answer. “She’s still eating.”

“Those men. They looked so scared when I ran in here, but they looked terrified of her when she followed me.”

“Don’t think about them. Only you matter right now.”

“Karma,” he breathes, trying to look over my shoulder, but I block his view. “I was so scared, I was—” He sucks in a deep breath, like he’s struggling to catch it. “But she sounded in pain when she was chasing me. Like she needed to eat me. I got lucky these guys were here, Micha. We can’t let it get this bad again.”

“Shh, shh.” I bring his head back to my chest. “Don’t worry about it, Arlo. We’ll sort something out. Ignore it for now.”

We stand here, hugging and listening to the sounds of a dead circus performer eating a person alive. The sounds feel like they go on forever until they start to quieten, but I don’t let Arlo look—or let myself look, for that matter—until it’s silent.

Soren clears his throat from the doorway. “Erm, she’s asleep.”

I pull back and grab my sweet stepbrother’s face. “Be a good boy and go downstairs for me. Don’t look at the corner. Wait for us there, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers, and I watch him closely to make sure his eyes stay averted from the crime scene as he sneaks out of the room. Despite how strong he can be, how strong he likes to act for Karma, I know his heart is fragile. He’s seen her in that state before, but there’s only so much he can handle.

I walk over to the pile of bodies—two dead and one sleeping. Well, technically they’re all dead.

Karma is curled up in the corner, covered in sprays of blood. I can’t identify either of the other bodies other than the fact that they’re male-appearing. Their faces are torn apart, their clothes are ripped to shreds—I’ve never seen anything so violent.

“She must have been really hungry.”

I ignore Soren and lean down to scoop Karma up in my arms. She stirs, mumbling something incoherent, as I sling her over my shoulder. I’m greeted with her pale-blue ass in my face, and Soren raises an eyebrow when he sees me eyeing it up.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he scoffs, turning and marching away. I give the round, smooth flesh one last look, the thought of leaving marks across it making me inappropriately horny. There are two dead bodies next to my feet, and I’m preoccupied with thinking if dead skin can react to handprints. What has my life turned into?

This girl has literally put herself into a food coma. The bells in her hair jingle with every heavy step I take towards the stairs, and I find Arlo on Soren’s back.

“He was tired,” Soren answers when I offer the pair a look.

“I did just have to run, like, a million miles,” Arlo sasses, already regaining his perkiness now he’s being manhandled by strong muscles. Am I jealous that it’s not me doing the manhandling, or am I slowly becoming accustomed? “By the way, I’m never doing that again. I don’t do physical cardio.”