The Fortune Teller's Daughter (7 page)

“Close your
eyes.”

“What?” I
asked nervously. “Why?”

He exhaled
as if I tried his patience. Reluctantly I obeyed and the falling sensation
eased.

Somewhere
out in the audience, someone gasped.

“Now. Open.”

A cold
brushed my skin, a winter wind that didn’t rustle the curtains or the
Magician’s hair, and around us white glittery snowflakes fell. An invisible
barrier kept us from the audience, from Katya, from the rest of the world. It
was as if we’d been caught within a snow globe only big enough for the two of
us.

The
snowflakes slowed, seemed to hang perfectly still around us.

He circled
until he was behind me, taller and broader than I was. He drew back my hair to
expose my neck to him and the audience and ran his hands down the length of my
arms. His skin was so warm. It broke my thoughts.

“This…” I
murmured but he cut me off.

“What is
your name?”

I tried to
remember.

“Sera...Serafine.”

The
snowflakes glittered so delicately. A single, perfect star shaped flake stilled
in front of my nose and as soon as I reached out to touch it, it exploded in a
shower of white sparks. Somewhere far away, I heard the audience’s applause.

“And why did
you come here, Serafine?” His breath kissed my neck as he slid around my body,
his hands never losing contact with my elbow, my wrist, my fingers. I stared at
the key hanging around his neck, and when I was brave enough, I stared into his
eyes.

“This isn’t
real,” I implored. “How is this happening?”

He canted
his head very slightly. “You don’t like it?”

“Oh, yes
but...how?” I sounded breathless. My chest hurt with how hard it was pounding.
A snowflake fell upon my cheek and melted, leaving a faintly wet trail, like a
kiss.

The Magician
narrowed his eyes. He leaned in close and all I could see was
him
, his
handsome, stormy face. He tilted his face down to mine and I foolishly thought
he might kiss me while a room full of strangers watched.

I don’t
think I would have minded.

He brought
his hand to my face, touched his thumb to my open lips, and dragged the pad
across them. He nudged them wider so that the tip of his thumb fit just between
my teeth. Unintentionally, maybe, and to my blushing embarrassment, my tongue
touched his skin. Just barely, but I felt it through my whole body. Between my
legs. Electrifying every inch of my skin.

The Magician
felt it too, sucked in a shuddering breath like he might suffocate right here
in this little snowy world he’d made for us.

“
Why
are you here?” he said quietly, alarm and warning and …
want
…creating a
dangerous mix.

“I…”

“Tell me,”
he commanded, his voice soft, barely more than an exhale. He seemed closer, or
the space between us felt smaller.

And
then…“Ladies and gentleman! I give you
Imaginaire’s
greatest
illusionist!”

Katya’s
voice cut through our cold quiet and the audience rushed back beneath the hot
lights as they all took to their feet in a thunderous ovation.

I blinked
rapidly, shook my head to clear it. The Magician stood paralyzed between me and
his audience. One violent glance towards Katya sent her shrinking back as he
took to the middle of the stage and bowed.

While the
room showered him in love and adoration, I jumped down off the stage, snatched
up my coat, and ran out of the tent.

*  *  *

The cold
against my skin acted as a much needed salve to the heat soaking my body. I’d
never seen, never felt anything like what had just happened to me inside the
Magician’s tent. His voice, seductive despite its harshness, had cast the
promised spell and even forewarned I’d allowed myself to become ensnared by
it. 

Behind the
Magician’s tent I collapsed against a support pole, far from the lights and the
path traveled by delighted carnival guests. I closed my eyes and allowed myself
to calm down. So much had happened in a few hours. Day time turned to dusk.
Soon it would be full night and I’d have lost a whole day to chasing ghosts.
Everything I’d seen and everything I’d felt was like something from a dream but
also so familiar. I believed now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my mother
had once walked these paths and visited these tents. This place was absolutely
her home. I’d never sensed her in our sad little apartment, but for the first
time since her death I thought she might be close.

I didn’t
know if I was upset or maddeningly in love. They felt like the same emotion.

There was
heaviness to his presence that I recognized immediately even before I opened my
eyes to confirm it. Tucked away in the alcove between tents, the heat from his
body brushed across mine.

“Open your
eyes.”

I expected,
like a dream, that he’d disappear upon waking. But no. When I obeyed his will,
I found him standing so close we almost touched. Gently he hooked a finger
beneath my chin and tilted my face up to his so that his mask hovered above my
upturned nose. This close I could see the mask was made for him and him alone,
molded perfectly to the shape of his bones.

The Magician
set a hand on the pole above my head and used the leverage to lean in.

“Did you
enjoy my show?” he murmured.

“It was…”
That strange sensation of being drugged, drunk, and bewitched clouded my senses
and muddled my thoughts. “…very …”

I tripped
over the last word as he collapsed the space between us with each drawn
syllable. I could smell the powder of his make-up. His breath puffed against my
cheek, just off center from my mouth.

“It was,” I
stammered, trying to remember exactly what it was we were even talking about.
The shape of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

“Yes? What
was it?”

Before I
could answer, he touched his lips feather soft to the corner of my smile. I
turned my head towards his, but he held back where it was almost appropriate,
almost damning, even as I exhaled the smallest moan.

“Lovely,” he
breathed when he pulled away, his accent stronger in that one word than I’d
heard all night, as if he forgot to correct himself. He drew a thumb down the
sharp angle of my throat. “Join me for the rest of the evening.” He closed in
once more so that I felt his body along mine, his face tilted into my hair. I
could feel the key around his neck press into my skin. “Come away with me.”

And like
that, all at once, the spell broke. The con rushed in like a bucket of ice
water to cool my body and a sharp gasp of laughter escaped before I could stuff
it back inside. He instinctively jerked back.

“Yeah sure,”
I collected my senses and pushed him away. “And is there a Nigerian prince
hiding nearby? Perhaps you’ve got a potion that will make me taller and thinner
or an elixir of everlasting youth in your pocket as well.”

“I’m sorry
what
?”

The Magician
withdrew, shocked and appalled, which gave me a different sort of pleasure. I
relaxed, even if the memory of his mouth pressed dangerously closed to mine
still lingered a bit too fresh.

“Let me
guess, it’s this, right?” I held up my wrist, the lion charm reflecting the
lights around us. “It means something other than
very special guest
. It
means keep an eye on me, herd me only where you want me to go, and then when
you’re done playing with me, tempt me into some dark corner where I can be
diced up into little pieces as the main course at a carny feast.”

His body
language changed, shifted from seductive and rakish to faintly amused and
bored. He folded his arms across his chest and regarded me as if I were a
small, faintly repulsive child.

“
Come
away with me
,” I mocked in a poor version of his accent. “Are you kidding
me? Don’t get me wrong, that amazing, husky British accent completely melted my
heart into a puddle of dumb girly goo. But not dumb enough to think that all
that,” I waved my hand at the length of his body, then my own, “would hand pick
all this for a secret, decadent rendezvous behind the tents. I appreciate the
effort and your show really is the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen, but
I’ve wasted too much time as it is. I have to see a man about a carnival.”

I stepped
out from his immediate physical control. He let me go and took his place at a
casual lean against the tree, arms and ankles crossed. He regarded me with
those heavy grey eyes, though I did get the impression he was humoring me. I
took several steps back towards the path without taking my eyes off him.

“Rook,” I
said and pointed in either direction. “Which way?”

The Magician
canted his head and pointed down the path to my left.

It wasn’t easy
turning and leaving him in the dark. I could have wanted whatever agonizing
death lay at the end of that potential tryst, if only he’d kissed me with as
much pretend desire as he teased me with. A scary thought, that. 

__________________

That lying,
cheating, dirty rotten magician lied.

Not that I
should have been surprised when I circled the same tent twice and found my way
back to his darkened stage before backtracking and taking the fork he did not
recommend. By the time I found the back lot I was tired and annoyed and would
have liked to have strangled the man with one of his magic ropes.

There were
no lights back here, no people either since the carnival was still going strong
behind me. The lot was roped off to warn away guests, and guarded by a man
neither in costume nor mask. He immediately moved to intercept me. I stopped
him with a death glare and pointed at the center of his chest.

“Try and
stop me. That’s all I have to say to you. Try and stop me.”

I shoved the
rope aside and stalked inside.

Alistair
Rook’s wagon held first position in the back lot. There were no signs, but it
was easily the biggest of the front wagons, not to mention the long side of it
had been painted in a hurricane of ravens circling a single, tiny circus tent.

I pounded my
fist on the little door.

The latch
clicked and the door swung open, forcing me back down the steps or risk being
knocked over. The Magician leaned out and stared down at me, this time
obviously amused.

“You really
are a pest.”

“And you are
no longer my favorite person, either.” I pushed a tangle of red hair out of my
face and waved him out of the way. “I’m also not here for you. Go away.”

The corner
of his mouth kicked up. “I used to be your favorite person?”

My mouth
opened to shoot him a scathing lie, but we were both interrupted.

“Let her
in,” came a voice from beyond the Magician. “She’s come this far, might as well
hear what she has to say.”

The Magician
hesitated then stepped aside and motioned for me to enter. I climbed the steps,
suddenly nervous.

Alistair
Rook.

The man
behind the desk seemed old, sixties, maybe seventies. Like the Magician and the
Courtesan, it was hard to tell his age. He wore a shock of white hair, and was
slighter than his position seemed to suggest. 

His green
cat eyes, bright as jewels, defied the wrinkles and the white hair and made him
look a touch wicked. They danced in the candle light that lit the room.

Alistair
Rook didn’t scare me, but he had something about him that captured and
empowered or reduced. He ran a hand across the closed ledger in front of him,
then motioned me forward.

“Come,
girl.”

His will
controlled the world. Before I knew what I was doing, I was approaching his
desk, my knees feeling weak and not quite mine.

“Mr. Rook?”
I asked. I swallowed. “Alistair Rook?”

“Yes, I am,
though I’m afraid I can’t say I know who you are. What possible business have
you with me?” Alistair Rook leaned forward and steepled his fingers in front of
his face like a comic book villain.

I almost
laughed if I didn’t think he’d have me thrown out. Or worse.

I gave the
Magician a dark glance. “You can go.”

He snorted
and crossed his arms. “Nice try, but that’s not going to happen, love.”

Rook nodded.
“You told my ticket master that you had an invitation. That’s a lie because I
don’t know you and therefore could not have sent you one. You’ve got five
seconds to tell me what you want. One.”

“I want a
job.”

Alistair
didn’t look surprised, but I could hear the Magician’s disdain when he laughed.
I folded my hands politely in front of me and waited for the carnival director
to speak next. My mother was here. Her past was
here
. I’d find answers
here that I never would out there in the so called
real world
. I’d work
for the carnival. It was the simplest, best answer to all of my problems. No
more Maurie or Elma. No more waiting.

“Jobs within
the carnival are by invitation only and as we’ve already established…”

“No, I have
an invitation. Look.” I pulled the folded postcard from my pocket, smoothed it
flat between my fingers, and handed it to him. He snatched it from my hand,
gazed at the name on the front vellum, then he raised his green eyes to meet
mine.

“This
invitation isn’t for you.”

The air in
the wagon heated suddenly, thickened until I could hardly breathe inside my
coat. Their stares were too hard, too unforgiving. They watched my every move,
waited for me to do something I shouldn’t. The pressure, the heat, the worry,
it all felt too much very fast. Without being asked, I dropped myself into the
seat in front of his desk and pulled at the collar of my coat until all the
buttons had been hurriedly undone. The carnival director raised a single
eyebrow but did not stop me.