Prologue

"Oh, come on, Marie. It's not that weird," my dad mutters, tightening his hold on my hand as he meets my mom's disapproving eyes—eyes that are the exact same shade of green as mine.

"She has been going on and on about seeing this circus for weeks now," my mom hisses. "Most girls want to get their dresses ready for the school dance, but not our little girl." There's disgust in her voice, as if wanting to go to the circus instead of wearing frilly dresses is the ultimate sin.

"So what? I don't want her to be like those snooty girls anyway." My dad winks down at me. I grin in excitement as his eyes land on the scene before us. "If my little girl wants to go to the circus, then we're going to take her." With that declaration, he begins to walk toward the gate, and I almost scream in victory.

For weeks, Mom told me I couldn't go to the circus. I've pleaded, begged, and bribed. As soon as I saw the vivid green flyers posted around town with stark black words stenciled across, I knew I had to go.

Something in me demanded it.

CIRQUE OBSCURUM: ALL ARE WELCOME.

OCTOBER 1-31ST.

FIND THE DARKNESS WITHIN.

Mom had been understandably horrified when I came home from school holding it. She almost had a stroke as she clutched her pearls and begged me to toss it in the trash. That didn't stop me from telling my dad about it, though, and now we're here. I can hardly handle my excitement.

I skip at my dad's side as we approach the elaborate entrance before us. The arched entryway is shaped like a yawning mouth with fangs hanging down, the face of some sort of demonic clown looking down on all those who dare enter. It's done in reds and blacks with a top hat perched on his head. At night, I have no doubt the lights will add to the eerie display, but in the daytime, it's almost comical.

Beyond the opening, I see the tip of the big top with red and white stripes—the signature look of every circus. It almost appears cute during the day, like a joyful mirage meant to beckon children in.

Grass crunches under my feet, the brisk autumn breeze making me snuggle deeper into my coat, even as I grin widely when we pass under the archway and into another world.

Tents and stalls line the walkway to the big top. Some are closed, but some remain open, serving food or offering carnival games where you can win a prize. There are caravans and old wooden houses parked throughout, all painted in the red and black color scheme with monstrous figures and drawings across each to announce who is inside.

Men and women in costume dance throughout the thin, early afternoon crowd. One tumbles by on a large ball, making me giggle. I gasp when a man in a black suit on stilts leans down, a giant, grinning maw painted on his white face and fake blood dripping around his red eyes. He gets right in my face, and I stumble back, briefly terrified, before being delighted with the strangeness of it.

"Welcome home, vindica." He chuckles before lifting one giant foot and ambling away.

Giggling, I spin to soak it all in before yanking my dad over to the closest booth. "Face painting, come on!"

"Alright, alright," Dad says with a smile before tugging some bills out of his slacks. I glance back to see my mom daintily holding her purse against her chest, clutching her cardigan shut as she looks around at the performers in horror. Ignoring her, I throw myself into the black wingback throne set next to the table and grin widely at a man dressed like a skeleton.

"Well, well, well, little darkling. What can we turn you into?" he purrs, his paints spread out before him.

"Oh, a skeleton! No! A clown! Oh, anything really." I almost jump up and down in my excitement. There's no way I can pick just one, so I let the man choose.

Smiling widely, he takes the money from my dad and grabs a palette and a brush, dragging his chair close. "Trust me, I know exactly the thing. Close your eyes, little darkling."

I do as I'm told, trusting him. I wiggle in my chair, but the man is very patient with me as he paints, and when he leans back, finished, my mother screams and turns away. My father just grins at me.

"Very scary," Dad says.

"Let me see," I beg, and the man hands me a mirror. My mouth drops open at the art he created on my face.

There are bright red devil horns above the arches of my eyebrows with a jewel at each tip. My mouth has been extended on either side in the same bright red with more jewels at each tipping point. Diamond's also frame my face, making a heart shape that ends on my chin and arches between my brows. My eyes are black with smoky tendrils trailing down onto my cheeks.

I look amazing.

"I love it," I whisper.

"Good, now go have fun, little darkling," the face painter says with a smile. "Enjoy the darkness you find."

"Thank you," I tell the man before taking my father's hand and letting him lead me away.

We spend the next hour exploring, eating, playing games, and enjoying a small juggling show. "Only one stall left, thank goodness," Mom whispers as we pass between two tents. I ignore her in favor of my cotton candy, but still, her words make me sad. It's almost over? Already?

Turning my head, I glance between tents as we pass to see a young boy in a black waistcoat and slacks. He's speaking sadly to a huge clown, his hands moving fluidly with his storytelling. He looks so normal but feels anything but. He's strange. I miss a step at the sight of him, and my father catches me so I don't fall. I don't know how, but they must sense me watching. When they turn, and I meet the black eyes of the boy so close to my age, my heart nearly stops. He's beautiful, but he turns away before I can study him closer.

"Ember, keep up," Mom chastises when I trip again.

Turning away, I focus on my steps, not wanting to get in trouble or for the day to end prematurely. We stop outside the last tent, and even my dad looks dubious at its appearance.

"Maybe we should just go home," he suggests, scratching his graying hair. "What do you think, squirt?"

"Not a chance," I declare before handing him my cotton candy, then I push through the closed flaps. The sign above the door announces that the psychic is in, as well as some other words I don't understand.

Fata manus

The decor inside the tent makes my eyes widen. The chill from outside is gone, and it's replaced by a spicy warmth that surrounds me as I step deeper inside. It's dark in here, with candles and lanterns strung from the ceiling and placed out on every available surface. Brightly colored material hangs along the walls in strips, and in the middle of it all is a round table with a black cloth draped over it. Upon it is a deck of cards spread out across the top.

"Hello?" I call boldly.

"Well, aren't you a brave little soul?" comes a smoky voice. A woman appears as if from nowhere, despite me not seeing any of the curtains move. Unlike the other performers, she doesn't wear face paint. Instead, she has lots of dark makeup on that only adds to her mystery. She's dressed in a long black gown that catches the light, and rings adorn every finger. There's a tattoo of an open eye on the middle of her forehead, and I'm mesmerized by it. "Aren't you afraid?" she asks as she studies the soft pink dress my mother insisted I wear. Clearly, I don't fit in here—not dressed like this.

"Not really," I admit. "I don't tend to get scared."

Smiling, she sits at the table and gestures for me to do the same on the opposite side. "Then come have your fortune read, little one. Let us find your fate."

I sit happily as she shuffles through the deck of cards before placing them on the table, then she lays her hands palms up around them. I place mine in hers, and her eyes close as she focuses on whatever it is she does. I see her mouth moving, and the lanterns and candles around us seem to flicker before they go out and we're doused in darkness. My heart speeds up, but I don't let go, and when her eyes open and a single candle comes to life on the table, I jump. Her eyes are no longer soft brown. They are bright white.

I stare in awe, my heart in my throat, as she releases my hands and spreads the cards out. She flips one, two, then three of them before looking back into my eyes.

"Oh, my brave little soul," she murmurs, but her voice is deeper now, darker, as if coming from behind her. "Life will not be kind to you, not in the beginning."

"I'll fail my tests." I sigh in understanding. "Mother won't be happy, but I hate studying."

"I wish that were all," the voice says. "Darkness encircles you, but remember that those who hide in the light can carry just as much evil as those in the shadows."

I frown, unsure what she means until she turns her hands over and grasps mine. She presses her palms to mine, and I feel something materialize between our fingers. "Take this. It's our card. Once given, it belongs to you. When you call, we will come. You'll know when the time is right."

"Why?" I wonder out loud as I tug my hands away to see the black matte card with red engravings. It's a joker, but the joker has a knife gripped in his hands and a heart lies across the edges.

"We always come for those who need to be saved. Remember that." She leans back, and the candles suddenly flicker to life, her eyes fading back to brown. "Your parents are getting worried. You should go."

"Ember?" I hear my dad's voice from outside, and I scramble back to my feet.

"Coming," I call as I clutch the card to my chest. "Thank you," I tell her, curious about who she is.

"No, thank you, little one." She stands, sweeping her skirt behind her. "One day, you will understand just what your purpose will be."

Nodding, I head to the tent entrance before my parents can come in after me. There are already enough rumors about how strange I am, how different. I don't need any more. Mom already worries for my future and how I'll marry and have a family if I'm an outcast.

I don't care about any of that, but I hate how she worries, even Dad.

"Remember, little one," the fortune teller calls as I stand half in and half out of the tent. "The darkness will always come when you call. Cirque Obscurum's doors will always be open to you should you wish for it."

Ignoring the strange feeling inside me, I nod and head back into the sunlight.

I clutch the card where my parents can't see, and it seems to burn in my palm.