Page 8 of Circus From Hell

Clowns pull open the tent flaps to allow the attendees to exit the show. Everyone’s on a high, bustling and excited as they leave with their friends or families to go home. I’ve seen many different types of people at our circus.

My eyes are focused on finding the man with white and pink hair. I never forget a face, certainly not his. His jaw was like a sharp knife. I don’t know how much meat he’ll have on his bones, but I can still lap up his blood, sink into flesh, and make a nice piece of décor out of his teeth for my tent.

And he’s alive, which means he has a pulse—that’s my favourite part.

I don’t have a heart. I don’t have blood. I don’t have a pulse pumping through me. And when I hear their heart beating harder out of fear, feel their pulse pounding under my fingers, I lose all sense of control.

I’ve never been patient. Kreo likes to tell me to slow down, calm down, or wait. But I hate it. I hate this part of the hunt especially. Waiting and wondering when I’ll see them.

As soon as my eyes fall on the target, his jewel-clad ears hooking me instantly, the electricity charging my vessel intensifies, making me tingle. He’s walking beside his friend from before, who towers above the public around him. My target is shorter, barely bigger than me, so I don’t think he’ll put up much of a fight.

I wish I could have them both.

Not allowed. No, no, no.

The crowd disperses as they head back into town, retreating to the false safety of their homes for the night, and I focus on where the pair go. They turn left, the opposite direction to me, but I’m quick to follow, sticking to the shadows.

I lose them for a moment, anger quickly fuelling me, but I see his white hair pop up a moment later before they turn a corner.

We’re heading into smaller backstreets, the alleyways getting narrow as I follow them. They’re walking leisurely, so I have to force myself to keep pace.

As they turn off into another alley, one so dark I can sneak right after them, I lower to my hands, crouching and waiting behind. I can’t get too close and risk the glowing green of my eyes alerting them.

Whilst I watch them, I notice how the smaller one likes to speak more of the two. He’s quiet and shy, like I thought, but far more talkative. He says he liked our show. The taller man with dark hair barely says two words.

Every time their hands skim, they jerk away like they’ve been hurt.

My excitement is thunderous now that I’m so close. I can smell them. Saliva keeps threatening to slip out my mouth, my long forked tongue begging for a lick.

The man with dark hair stops walking, and his friend stops too, turning to face him. “What is it, Micha?”

I turn my head, confused as to what they’re doing, and the bells in my hair jingle faintly.

Crap!

Micha looks around. I shut my eyes abruptly so he doesn’t see the glow. Only when he keeps talking do I open them.

“I hate this,” Micha whispers, a softness I’m not expecting to his voice.

“The circus? I know. You said you’d come with me. I didn’t ask⁠—”

“Not the circus,” he groans, taking a step forward, getting closer to his friend who tilts his head back. “This, Arlo.”

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

They go silent, and I don’t understand what’s happening, but for the first time in my life, the need to consume raw flesh doesn’t overrun to the point where I can’t hold back any longer. I’m not struck with desperation to eat and steal and cause fear. I’m intrigued.

I’ve never felt so curious.

This new energy passes between them, like tense air. I can’t look away when Micha takes another step forward, and Arlo swallows loudly, taking a step back to be hit with a wall.

Then the scent of fear hits me. But it’s alongside something else, something heady.

A feeling I don’t understand courses through my body, centring in the spot between my legs, and the urge to touch my pussy damn near overwhelms me.

What is happening to me?

CHAPTER FOUR