Chapter 24

Twenty-Four

Club's face is hidden behind his mask, but I can still see the darkness in his eyes. This place brings something inside him to the surface, and I wonder what brought him to the cirque. I only know hints from the cards. I haven't asked any of them about it, figuring they'll tell me when they are ready, but I see the ghosts that haunt Club, just as there are ghosts that hound the others. I suppose we're all haunted and that's how we arrived in Cirque Obscurum. I'd like to wipe away their darkness, but it's a part of them now, just as mine is.

The first time I saw them hunt, I flinched away from the blood. Now, in this building, I relish the feeling of sticky, drying blood on my hands and the fear in the guards' eyes who kneel before Diamond, Heart, and Spade as we reach the top of the stairs. These people are true monsters, the kind that shouldn't be allowed to live, let alone be around children. I don't know how many children there are yet or how young they are, but each of these men will pay for what they have done.

"Which one is the warden?" I ask, my voice thick with fury. "Which one calls the shots?"

Diamond looks at me before gesturing to a woman at the end of the line. The others must be guards, but it's clear this one is something else. She's tall and limber, her graying hair pulled back in a severe bun. Even as she kneels before us, she doesn't look afraid, her cool gray eyes hard and unwavering. She doesn't fear us, but she should.

"What's your name?" I ask, standing over her. When she keeps her lips pressed together, I pull the blade from my hip and hold it against her cheek. "I said, what's your name?"

She meets my eyes with the air of somebody used to being in control. It's the same look my husband had. "Fuck you."

Her voice is accented, telling me she's from somewhere outside the States. European maybe?

"Are you a mother, Fuck You?" I ask, pretending like her venom doesn't bother me. "Are any of these children yours?"

When she doesn't answer, I swipe the knife across her face, cutting her cheek. It's not deep, but it's enough to bleed and hurt. She grunts in pain, but when she meets my eyes again, she doesn't reach up to wipe the dripping blood away. I cut the other side for shits and giggles. A woman doing this to children is some other kind of evil. I expect this from men, but from a woman? I guess the maternal instincts in me can't fathom it.

"No," she growls. "None of them are mine."

I nod. "I thought so. What sort of mother could mistreat so many children?"

"She makes them call her Mother," one of the guards pipes up, clearly thinking he will survive if he cooperates with us.

I turn my head toward him. "Oh?"

He's younger than the others. "Please," he says when I meet his eyes. "This is my first night. I was going to go to the police in the morning."

"Shut up, Stephen," one of the others growls, but Club slams the hilt of his knife against his nose to shut him up.

I straighten and move over to the man. "Tonight is your first night?"

"Please," he begs. "I didn't know what this place was. I just needed the money. I have a kid. She's sick. Needs medicine. Please, this isn't my fault."

I squat down in front of him, studying his eyes. I see truth there, but I can never be too sure. He looks broken by what he's seen. "Do you have a picture of her in your wallet?"

He nods vigorously, so Spade reaches into his back pocket and pulls it out before flipping it open. He thumbs through the little plastic flaps before handing it to me. I look down at a picture of a bright, blonde-haired girl. She can't be older than seven, her toothy grin sporting gaps where she lost her teeth to the tooth fairy.

"What's her name?" I ask, flipping to find a picture of the same little girl, now bald and sitting in a hospital bed. She hugs her dad, both smiling for the person behind the camera.

"Mary," he rasps, his eyes watering. "Her name is Mary."

Nodding, I slide the wallet into his breast pocket and pat it. I stand and gesture to Club. He comes forward and cuts the ties holding the man's wrists together. He gapes in surprise as Club helps him to his feet.

"I suggest you tell no one what you saw here," I warn him, "and don't worry about calling the cops. We'll take care of it."

He nods and hesitates. "The keys for the cells are in the warden's pocket. She keeps them on her at all times." He takes off down the stairs. I wait until the door slams closed to focus on the others.

"I have kids too," another guard cajoles. "Jimmy and Katrina would be upset if I don't come home."

"Would they?" I ask, narrowing my eyes. "And how long have you worked here?" He clamps his lips shut, and I nod. "That's what I thought. Somehow, I think Jimmy and Katrina will be fine without their evil father."

Without me saying a word, Club swipes his blade across the guard's neck. The sounds he makes echo around us as he collapses and bleeds out. We're silent as the noises die away.

"Who are you people?" the woman asks, her eyes still narrowed, completely unfazed by the sight of her guard dying. That tells me all that I need to know. She doesn't care about life, adults and children alike.

I move over to her and bop her nose with my bloody hand. She leans away with a look of disgust.

"Who are we?" I repeat, tilting my head. "I suppose we're your worst nightmare."

She snorts. "No. You're not."

I see ghosts in her eyes. I often hear that people who have been hurt will hurt others, but this woman is too far gone to save. We choose what we become. We either let the evil that hurt us destroy our soul and make us the very same thing or we do something about it. There's no helping someone like this, and even if we could, I wouldn't want to. The kids in those rooms deserve better. They deserve for their demons to die.

"Kill them," I say. Heart and Diamond take out the other two guards, leaving only the warden. "Are you afraid of death?"

The woman tips her chin up. "I have died many times over. Death doesn't frighten me."

I want this woman to suffer for what she's done, but she's as unmoving as a boulder. I want her to scream, I want her to cry, but something tells me she won't do any of those things. Something tells me she'll go to her death without complaint, probably the same way she faced life—cold and uncaring.

"Allow me," Diamond murmurs as he kneels beside her. He doesn't brandish a knife. All he does is look into her eyes. They stare at each other for what seems like forever before Diamond whispers, "Tell me your nightmares."

Her lips part, and I can tell she struggles with her answer, as if she doesn't want to speak the words. Ultimately, Diamond is his own beast, and the word slips from her lips in a barely audible whisper.

"Fire."

Heart giggles. "Being burned alive is the worst way to go, I hear." He tucks his knife away. "I'll go grab some gasoline."

He disappears downstairs as Diamond looks over at me. "There are no children up here." He reaches into the warden's pocket and pulls out a ring of keys. "You three go get them out. Heart and I will take care of this one."

I look at the woman again, at the way she stares unflinchingly at me. Anger fills me again. It's not enough. It's not enough!

Without thinking, I swing. My fist connects with her jaw, and she goes down with a gasp and a grunt of pain. "That's for Noah," I spit. I jerk her back up by her hair. "And this one is for the other children." I grab her arm and twist, breaking it just as Roger once did to me. This time, she lets out a satisfying cry of pain as I drop her arm and kick her down. "Evil fucking bitch."

No one stops me. No one keeps me from hurting her. Each of them nods in understanding before we separate. We pass Heart on the way downstairs, two large metal containers of gasoline in his hands. He whistles a happy circus tune and grins at us as we pass.

"I hope you brought the marshmallows," he says. "We're going to have one hell of a fire."

Watching him climb the stairs, I realize I love that man.

There are ten cells total. As we unlock each one, Spade encourages the children to follow him out of the house while Club counts them. Some of the rooms have ten children. Some have even more. A few are empty. They are all too skinny and frail. Spade has to carry a couple of them because they are too weak to move on their own.

"Fuck," I curse once we reach sixty kids. "Dr. Louis is going to be busy."

One of the rooms holds only a single kid, an older girl. Her eyes are hollow as we open the door, and she scrambles back.

"We're not going to hurt you," I tell her, holding my hands out. "We're getting you and your friends out of here. We'll take you somewhere safe."

"You promise?" she croaks. As she lifts her head, I get a good look at the bruises around her neck in the shape of a hand.

"I promise." I nod, fighting my anger so I don't scare her. "We're going to burn this hellhole down."

She nods and hesitates, tears forming in her eyes. "I can't walk. I . . . I need my wheelchair."

My heart twists. Fucking monsters!

I kneel and meet her eyes. "I don't know where that is right now, but we can carry you out. Would that be okay?" She hesitates when Spade steps around the corner and kneels with me. "This is Spade. He can help you." I notice the small, grungy stuffed animal clutched in her hands. This girl has to be fifteen at least, maybe older if she's been malnourished for too long. When she moves, I realize it's an animal I recognize. "Spade has a tiger."

Her eyes widen. "A real one?"

Spade nods. "A real one. Her name is Freedom. Would you like to meet her?"

"Yes," she murmurs, and then without any more hesitation, she reaches up for him to help her.

Spade lifts her without strain and carries her out, all while telling her about the other animals he trains and works with. We'll have to find her a wheelchair. I didn't ask why she needed it, but something tells me she came to this place in it, and they treated her like trash.

"That's all of them," Club says as he comes around the corner. "We checked the whole house just in case. They are all outside, and I've already called the cirque. They are bringing out one of the trucks so we can take them all back."

I nod and grab his hand. "Then let's burn this place down."

As we walk through the entryway, Diamond forces the warden to the base of the stairs. She's tied up, her eyes wide and panicked now in a way they weren't before. Heart giggles as he dumps the rest of his gasoline on top of her.

"Stop! You can't do this! Someone help me!" she screams, struggling to free herself, but there isn't much she can do while tied up with a broken arm.

Her cries make me smile, and when I step outside of the house, I see some of the children smiling at the sight too. This is for them.

Heart comes strolling out, but he leaves the front door open so we all get a good look at the warden as she screams and struggles. She's framed like a fucking masterpiece.

"Who would like to do the honors?" Diamond asks, pulling out a box of matches.

At first, no one volunteers, but after a few seconds of silence, a boy limps forward. He's probably sixteen, but my guesses are skewed due to their abuse. His eyes are hollow, and he's covered in dirt, but he stands tall despite his limp as he takes the matches from Diamond. He pauses before the entryway, watching the warden scream.

Another child walks up and puts her hand on his shoulder, and then another, followed by another. Eventually, all of the children who are able to walk stand with him, offering comfort as he strikes the match.

"For Juliet," he rasps, holding the match before him.

"For Juliet," the children repeat, and then other names are voiced, honoring them—Molly, Darah, Brendon, William, Gary, and Veronica. The list goes on and on.

He throws the match. We watch the house go up in flames, the blaze rushing toward the warden. Her screams grow more shrill, more pained, as the entire place begins to burn. We view it together, the evil being engulfed by the inferno. We're silent, listening to the crackling of the flames and the sudden, abrupt stop of the warden's screams just as the truck pulls up.

"Time to go," Diamond commands, turning to help the kids into the large trailer we usually use to transport animals. It's not ideal, but there are so many of them, we couldn't get them out quickly any other way.

The boy lingers as he watches the flames, but the others follow Diamond. I step up to rest my hand on his shoulder.

"Who's Juliet?" I ask him, staring at the destruction.

"My sister," he rasps before turning to look at me. There is something so broken and haunted in his gaze, it wrecks me. "She was my five-year-old sister."

My chest squeezes. "I'm sorry we weren't fast enough."

"You got here," he croaks. "That's what matters."

When he starts to cry, I wrap my arms around him, offering comfort as he lets it out. My own tears spill for him, for all of them, and for all they've lost. I hope we can help them and give them what they need.

As I assist him into the back of the trailer and climb up with them, I catch a glimpse of Heart running toward the fire with a bag of marshmallows in his hand. Some of the children giggle as he whoops and starts shoving them onto a stick.

"Who wants one?" he shouts. "Marshmallows for everyone!"

More smiles follow the giggles, and a part of me falls even more in love with the man, with all of them, as they gently help the children and take complete care to make them comfortable.

When they climb into the back of the trailer with us, Heart with his massive stick full of roasted marshmallows of various shades and Spade with the young girl in his arms, we settle in for the ride.

"Where are we going?" the boy closest to me asks, his cheeks still tear streaked. "Where are you taking us?"

"To the cirque," I tell him. "We'll help you get better, and then when you're ready, you can choose to stay or go. Either way, you'll be safe. We'll make sure of it."

He nods and then leans his head against my shoulder. "Thanks, ma'am," he says, but the way he says it, it almost sounds like "Mom." My hand flutters to my stomach. I'd almost been a mother once. How convenient that the cirque is giving me the opportunity to be one to these children.

No card, but a call all the same.

Diamond's eyes meet mine over the heads of the children clustered around us, each of them exhausted but relieved. Something passes between us, but I can't name it. He almost looks . . . angry, but something tells me it's not directed at me. Whatever demons Diamond carries are great.

I wonder how magnificent he is when his beast comes out to play.

I wonder how well it will play with mine.