Chapter 40

Forty

Afew days later, the cards still haven't given me any answers. Frustration has me trying to open myself up more to the powers behind them, to the cirque itself, as I watch the children play and grow into themselves. Freedom looks good on them, even Melvin, who looks far healthier than when we found him. They have all put weight back on, their eyes brighter, but some of them are still quiet, their souls damaged beyond what a few weeks or even months of care can cure. It'll take years for some of their trauma to fade. It'll never go away completely, but eventually, it could lessen. My hope is that we can continue to offer them a healing environment to find themselves in.

Since I'm so open to the energy around me, to the cirque, she warns me of their arrival before I see the car come around the bend in the road. I straighten and whistle, warning everyone else. The kids immediately stop what they are doing and look in my direction.

"Get out of sight," I tell them, "just in case there's trouble."

The older kids gather everyone and move them into the tents. I know they'll keep them safe until we find out what the police want.

It's never good when the cops show up, especially after the attack. Part of me worried they would retaliate at our audacity to survive and thrive, but instead law enforcement is on our doorstep. It looks like something happened to bring them our way.

Diamond appears at my side first, the others right after.

"What's going on?" Spade asks, his eyes on the single cop car pulling off the road.

"I don't know," I reply, "but something doesn't feel right."

The gloom that's been hanging over me since the cards spoke of death darkens as two cops climb from the car and adjust their belts. One of them has a large mustache he clearly takes pride in. The other looks young, fresh, like a rookie. Neither one of them glances at the tents with kindness as they take it all in, their lips curling up in disgust.

"What can we help you with, officers?" Diamond asks, his voice taking on the same tenor he uses for shows. He's clearly trying to avoid any trouble before it begins. We can't afford any more death after the last attack, even if it hangs over our heads like a promise.

"We have no business with you, circus freaks," the older cop says, his eyes hidden behind aviator glasses. He looks over our group before his gaze settles on me. "Our business is with Ember Campbell."

I tip my chin up. "I don't go by that name anymore."

"Funny," the rookie says, "because you're still married, as far as we know."

The older cop doesn't correct him, but he straightens, his gaze on me behind his glasses. He doesn't spare any of the others a glance, as if he doesn't care. Other members of our family appear from the tents, curious about what's going on.

"What do you want with Ember?" Diamond asks.

"It's none of your business, freak," the rookie sneers.

Diamond smiles, and the rookie stiffens at the look. It's not a nice smile. "Everyone in this cirque is my business," he says, his tone threatening. "Now, tell us your reasons for encroaching on our camp."

The rookie's lips curl, and he opens his mouth to respond, but the older cop holds his hand up to stop him, and he snaps his mouth closed immediately.

"You've been reported as a missing person, Mrs. Campbell." I grit my teeth at the use of the surname, but I hold my response until he finishes. "Your husband, Dr. Campbell, reported that you'd been kidnapped by these . . . people. We're here to bring you home."

My blood goes cold, and I take a step back. "My husband?"

"Come with us and we'll take you home," the officer says with a nod. "Then we can put this all to rest."

The gloom over my head darkens further. "No," I tell them.

"Now, Mrs. Campbell?—"

"Don't call me that!" I snarl, taking another step back. "I want nothing to do with that man! You've delivered your message. Now leave."

The rookie sneers. "Don't be stupid. No one chooses to stay with these freaks."

"I did," I hiss. "I do. No one kidnapped me. This is my home."

Club curls his fingers around my forearm, offering comfort, and the older cop takes note of the movement. When his hand twitches toward the gun on his hip, Diamond snarls.

"I suggest you don't make that mistake," Diamond warns. "We're not being aggressive, officer."

He pauses, clearly realizing just how outnumbered he is. "You're going to come with us, Mrs. Campbell."

"No," I repeat. "I'm not. He doesn't own me. I'm not property. He filed a false report. You should be investigating him and his malpractice."

The cop's eyes flash, and I realize he knows what my husband is up to but he's also been paid off.

"Home isn't here," he says carefully. "You either come with us now or we'll make you. Stockholm syndrome is a real killer."

"Come on, girlie," the rookie cajoles, and because he's an idiot, unlike his partner, he takes a step forward and draws his gun. "Get in the car."

Everyone surrounds me, my family, my cirque. Each of them offers me strength, protecting me. I tilt my chin up, bolstered by their support. The rookie freezes, his eyes widening even as his partner hisses at him to stand down.

"Listen to your master," I tell him, and he tenses. Oh, he really doesn't like that. "I suggest you get in your car and leave. I won't be going anywhere with you, and you can tell my husband I don't belong to him. That hold expired the night he tried to kill me."

"Alright," the older one says. "Okay. We're leaving." The rookie whips his head toward him, but the older cop sneers, "Get in the car."

The kid clearly doesn't like it, but he listens because he doesn't have any choice. He holsters his weapon and turns to climb into the car. The older one hesitates for a moment.

"We're leaving," he declares, his eyes on me. "But we'll be back."

"I'd warn you against that," I retort, my expression hard.

He pulls his glasses away and reveals eyes too blue for someone so slimy. "Your husband sends his love."

My stomach roils as he climbs into his car and turns the engine on.

By the time he disappears around the bend, I lose the breakfast in my stomach, my body trembling and covered in a cold sweat.

My men don't leave my side, but the gloom over my head gets worse.