Chapter 21

Twenty-One

Although Dr. Louis says my leg is healing, I'm still not well enough to help in any acts, not really. I'm off the crutches, but now I just have a boxy boot around my leg, so I'm forced to sit out tonight's show, watching from the sidelines as they amaze and terrify. The longer I'm here, the more the darkness within me rises.

I'm not the same Ember who came here all those nights ago. I feel stronger, more confident, and there is this wicked hunger inside me, demanding to be set free. It has a brutal edge to it, one born from death and pain. I thought my need for revenge died when I left that house behind, but I was wrong. It just lit the flames that I fan now instead of running from them.

I want these men, and I want this place, but it's more than that.

I want to answer the cirque. I want to be the blade in the darkness. I just have to give myself permission to, and I did that when I chose to return.

As if relishing and understanding my acceptance of what and who I am now, the cirque calls me. Unlike last time, it doesn't cripple me. Instead, it pulses inside me, like a heartbeat deep within, echoing through my body and soul. The constant thrum grows louder, asking to be heard. My eyes go to the guys as they perform, wondering if they feel it too, but they are oblivious.

It"s just me. Why?

Turning away from the bright lights, I push from the pole I was leaning against and duck out of the tent. Outside in the empty darkness, the screams of the crowd seem far away, and that pulse only grows. I focus on it and start to move. Each step causes the heartbeat inside me to pound faster, and warmth spreads through me as if to assure me this is the right way.

I stumble across the worn grass, trying to focus on the call as it leads me away from the lights and crowds of the cirque and toward the fields behind us. The long grass blows in the breeze, the moon high above us but unable to pierce the darkness.

The call tugs me deeper into the grass, and I go willingly, open to it. The lights disappear, and when I glance back, I can't see the cirque nor hear the music, but I still walk. The grass brushes against me as I wander through it.

I don't know how long I walk for.

Suddenly, the long grass parts into a small clearing, where the stalks have all been ruthlessly stomped down. It's here I find the reason for the call. My heart clenches as two wide, terrified brown eyes clash with mine.

It's a boy, a child, half lying in the broken patch of grass as if his body can't go on, but judging by the drag marks behind him, it's clear he tried to.

Crouching, I spread my hands to show him I'm harmless as I watch him carefully. He's small, even for his age. He must be about ten or so, but he's so tiny that his bones stick out under his skin, and his whole face is gaunt like a skeleton. His eye sockets are hollow and bruised, there are cuts all across his pale, filthy skin, and his feet are bleeding. It's obvious he ran a long way.

This boy has been abused.

I don't see a card anywhere, which is strange, but the cirque called me here for a reason. Besides, I can't leave him here. I see resolve in his eyes, the belief I will abandon or hurt him like everyone else before. He's waiting for the blow, his body giving out and his soul ready to give up.

I know that feeling all too well.

"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." His lips part in disbelief, and when I move forward a little, he scrambles back, shivering in fear and cold, so I stop. "I'm Ember. What's your name?"

He swallows, his little throat bobbing as his eyes dart around, looking for a way out before landing back on me. He relaxes when he realizes he doesn't have the strength to escape, and his eyes settle back on me. I wait. I don't move, but I also don't give up. I can't leave him here, not when the wounds on his body have anger igniting within me. Who could hurt a kid like this?

"Noah," he croaks before swallowing again. "My name is Noah."

"It's nice to meet you, Noah. How did you get all the way out here?" I glance behind him for anyone who might be chasing him, but we are far from anything here.

He doesn't answer, and I nod.

"I'm from the circus." He seems to sit up taller, and I smile. "The one with the animals and clowns." I grin, and a soft smile tips up his lips. "Would you like to come with me? I can get you some food and help get you cleaned up."

"I've never been to a circus," he whispers.

"Hmm, it's a magical place," I promise, sitting when my leg aches, showing him I'm not going anywhere. "We have a tiger." His eyes widen, and I grin. "We have an elephant and so many amazing acts. You can even watch them if you want."

His eyes dart over his shoulder worriedly.

"Noah," I cajole, knowing I could lose him at any moment. He's like a scared animal. The cirque called me here for a reason, but this is more than that. This child has been abused, and I want to save him.

"You are better off leaving me," he finally responds, sounding far too grown up. "I only bring trouble."

"Don't you know?" My grin is almost wicked as I stand. He flinches but doesn't run. "We circus people crave trouble. Besides, everyone is welcome at the cirque."

I take a chance and slowly move closer, making my limp more pronounced to prove I am not a threat. When I stop before him, I crouch again so I'm not towering over him, and it's then I realize how truly small he is. He's just bones and pale skin.

I almost recoil in horror at the scars I see littering every inch of his back, which are revealed by the torn rags he wears. I don't know how he survived. Some are old, some are new and bleeding, and there are bruises in a kaleidoscope of blues and purples. He meets my eyes again, peering up at me through long lashes, making my heart clench. "I was bad," is all he says, his voice small.

Swallowing my horror, I reach my hand out, palm up. "I promise you, Noah. You're not bad. Let me help you."

"Why?" he asks, searching my gaze. Didn't I ask the same thing once? "Why would you help me?"

"The cirque is a safe place for everyone. We help as many people as we can. I was like you once. If you let me, Noah, I promise to keep you safe."

He looks from me to my hand before lifting a shaking limb and laying his tiny hand in mine. I smile encouragingly as I stand and help him to his feet. He wavers, shivering, and I know I need to get him to the doctor.

I tighten my hold on him, feeling the bones under his paper-thin skin. Smiling down at him, I try to fight back my anger so I don't scare him. "It's going to be okay."

It takes us a while to get back, but Noah refuses to let me carry him because he's worried about my leg. His concern makes me want to cry, but I hold back my tears so I don't scare him. Once inside the cirque, he seems both lost and awed. I know that feeling, know what it's like to be faced with something so grand and terrifying all at once. I escort him to my tent and wave down a rigger on the way, asking him to grab Dr. Louis for me.

"Sit, okay?" I point at my bed, and Noah hesitates. "What is it?" I ask.

"I'm dirty," he whispers, his eyes sad.

"I don't care about dirt, Noah. Please sit." I help him onto the bed and sit next to him as the tent flaps part. Noah hides slightly behind me as Dr. Louis enters, and I warn him with my eyes to move slowly.

He nods, getting the message. "And who do we have here?" he asks, setting his bag down before moving closer and crouching.

"This is Noah. Noah, this is Louie, the doctor who helped me." I nudge him gently as he peeks out.

"Hi," he croaks.

"It's nice to meet you, Noah. I'm going to look you over, okay? I can see blood, and I want to make sure nothing gets infected and make you feel better."

Noah looks up at me, and I nod. Noah copies the movement, and Louie smiles.

"Okay, so let's get this shirt off." I slide back and go to stand to give them privacy, but Noah's hand darts out and grabs mine.

"Stay, please," he begs, holding my hand tightly, eyeing Louie in fear. Louie turns away, but not before I see the tears in his eyes, and I know the feeling. It's difficult to be faced with such horrible mistreatment of a child.

"I'm not going anywhere," I promise. "Can he take a look at you? He fixed my leg, see? He's really good. I promise."

Noah nods, and we both sit stiffly as Louie looks him over, dressing his wounds before sitting back. Noah is silent the whole time, but it's obvious he doesn't like being touched, and he flinches if Louie moves too quickly. Still, he never once complains about the pain he must be in. His ribs are busted, his back is a mess, his feet are cut so deeply I don't know how he walked, and that's just his unhealed injuries. His whole body is scarred, and it's evident he's suffered years of abuse.

"You did very well, Noah. I want you to rest now, okay? When you wake, I want you to have little meals often. Your stomach shrank, so anything big will make you sick."

Noah nods. "I know I get sick if I eat."

Louie smiles, but it's tight as he glances at me and nods his head toward the tent opening.

I nod and stand. "I'll be right back, okay?"

Noah's eyes widen as he holds my hand with more strength than I thought possible. "Promise?"

"I promise," I whisper as I wrap my blanket around him. "I'll just be outside. Shout if you need anything, okay? I'll come running back."

He nods, holding the blanket tighter, and I follow Louie out. He rubs his face, looking exhausted. "The kid is malnourished and on death's door. His body . . . He has more unhealed broken bones and lashings than I've ever seen. The scarring on his back, though, I've seen it before."

"What do you mean?" I murmur, not wanting Noah to overhear. It's clear he's been through enough.

"A whip. He was whipped," Louie growls, angry just like me. "He needs rest, food, and love, lots of it. It will be a long time until he trusts anyone, but he seems to feel safe with you. Stay with him. Let him know it's safe."

"I will." I nod. "Thanks, Louie."

"Sometimes I wonder what the hell this world is coming to," he mutters as he wanders away.

Me too, I think as I step back into the tent and find Noah already asleep, curled into a tiny ball under the blanket. I head his way and sit heavily, rubbing his back as the cirque pulses inside me, demanding retribution.

"You don't have to tell me twice. This time, it's my hunt. This time, I'll become a nightmare." Leaning down, I place a soft kiss on Noah's cheek. "Tell me your nightmares, Noah. Let me face them for you."

"Stables Orphanage," he whispers, the words dragged from his nightmares where he's trapped.

"Good boy. Rest now. Let the cirque take care of you."

I watch as he settles in once more, and then I stand, letting my expression become cold as I turn and head out of the tent.

We have a hunt, and this time, I won't shy away from it.