Chapter Three

K itty jolted awake , her heart hammering against her ribs. Unfamiliar shadows loomed in the morning light, and for a moment, she could remember where she was. Then the memories crashed back, each one more bizarre than the other. The carnival. Madame Noir. The lion with the compelling and mysterious gaze.

Kitty's fingers clutched at the threadbare blanket, its rough texture grounding her in reality. She sat up on the narrow bunk, wincing as her muscles protested. Every inch of her body ached, as if she'd been thrown from a bucking bronco rather than sleeping.

The mobile trailer home Madame Noir had assigned her was claustrophobically small. Kitty could touch both walls if she stretched out her arms. A tiny dresser huddled in the corner, its drawers hanging askew. Faded circus posters peeled from the walls, their once-vibrant colors now as dull and lifeless as Kitty felt. But it was better than sleeping in her truck. At least it had a small kitchen area and a bathroom.

Through the grimy window, a kaleidoscope of movement caught her eye. Kitty leaned closer, her breath fogging the glass. Carnival workers scurried past like ants, their voices a low murmur beneath a persistent, unsettling hum that vibrated in her bones.

She took a quick five minute shower before the water in the tank ran out. As she dressed, her mind kept circling back to the lion – Leo. Those eyes haunted her, filled with an intelligence and torment that no animal should possess. Had there been a spark of connection between them? Or was she just projecting, desperate to find the same bond she had with Brutus?

Kitty shook her head, her tangled hair whipping against her cheeks. She couldn't afford to get distracted, not when her entire future balanced on a knife's edge. This was her second chance, possibly her last. She quickly braided her hair in a long plait down her back to get it out of her way.

Stepping out of her trailer, Kitty was immediately swept up in the controlled chaos of the carnival's morning routine. Workers rushed past, carrying equipment or pushing carts laden with supplies.

"Watch it, newbie," a gruff voice called as Kitty narrowly avoided collision with a burly man carrying a crate of what looked like severed hands. Kitty recoiled, then forced herself to take a closer look. Props, she realized with relief. Incredibly lifelike, but props, nonetheless.

"Sorry," she muttered, sidestepping out of the way. The man grunted and moved on, leaving Kitty to wonder just what kind of act used such gruesome things.

The flow of workers carried Kitty along like a leaf in a stream. She found herself in a large tent that served as a communal dining area. Long tables groaned under the weight of food platters, the aroma making Kitty's empty stomach clench painfully. When was the last time she'd eaten? Yesterday morning? The day before?

As Kitty filled a plate, the weight of curious stares prickled along her skin. Conversations hushed as she passed, only to erupt in excited whispers in her wake. Fragments of gossip reached her ears, each one a dagger to her already battered ego.

"That's her – the lion tamer."

"I heard her cat nearly killed someone."

"Wonder how long she'll last here?"

Kitty's hand tightened on her fork, knuckles white. She wanted to scream, to defend herself, to make them understand. But the words stuck in her throat, choking her with their futility.

"Over here, dear," a lilting voice called. Kitty turned to see an elderly woman waving her over. Despite her age, the woman's eyes were bright and alert, twinkling with mischief. "Don't mind those vultures. They'll find some new gossip soon enough."

Gratefully, Kitty slid into the seat across from the woman. "Thanks," she said. "I'm Kitty."

"Oh, I know who you are, child," the woman replied with a wink. "Sally the Seer, at your service. I'm the tarot reader here. And this surly gentleman," she gestured to the man beside her, a mountain of muscle with a shaved head and enough piercings to set off a metal detector, "is Boris, our strongman."

Boris grunted what might have been a greeting, not looking up from his plate. The table vibrated with each of his movements, making Kitty's water glass dance dangerously close to the edge.

"Don't mind him," Sally stage-whispered. "He's not a morning person. Or an afternoon person. Or really much of a person at all, come to think of it."

Despite herself, Kitty felt a smile tugging at her lips. "Nice to meet you both," she said. "So, um... how long have you been with the carnival?"

Sally's eyes took on a faraway look. "Longer than I care to remember. This place has a way of making time lose all meaning."

Before Kitty could ask what she meant by that, a hush fell over the tent. The very air seemed to still, growing heavy and oppressive. Madame Noir had entered, her presence a black hole, sucking all attention towards her. Her gaze swept the room, and Kitty felt it like a physical touch, cold and assessing.

"There you are," Madame Noir said, gliding over to their table. Her voice was honey over broken glass. "Have you thought it over? Are you ready to finalize your paperwork and join our carnival?”

Kitty's appetite vanished in an instant, replaced by a leaden weight in her stomach as the people in the food tent stopped eating and stared at them.

"Yes," she said, rising from her half-eaten breakfast. Her legs felt weak, unsteady. "Let’s lock down the details."

Sally drew in a breath with a shocked hiss.

Madame Noir's lips curved in a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Kitty suppressed a shudder. Those eyes reminded her of a shark's, black and soulless.

"Excellent. Follow me."

As Kitty trailed after Madame Noir, she felt Sally's gaze boring into her back. When she glanced over her shoulder, the old woman's expression was grave, almost pitying.

Madame Noir led Kitty to a small, cluttered office tucked away behind the main tent. The air inside was thick and stagnant, heavy with the scent of dust and something old and vaguely sinister. Faded pictures lined the walls, the eyes of past performers seeming to follow Kitty as she entered. She could almost hear their whispered warnings.

A large desk dominated the space, its surface a chaotic jumble of papers and strange objects. Crystals caught the dim light, throwing rainbow reflections across the room. What looked unsettlingly like a shrunken head grinned at her from atop a stack of ledgers. Kitty's gaze skittered away from it, her skin crawling.

"Sit," Madame Noir commanded, gesturing to a worn leather chair. Kitty obeyed, sinking into the seat. The leather was cold against her skin, and she could have sworn she felt it pulse, like the beat of some monstrous heart.

"Now then," Madame Noir began, steepling her fingers. Her nails were long and sharp, painted a deep red that looked uncomfortably like fresh blood. "Let's discuss your act with Leo. I have great expectations for this partnership."

Madame Noir's eyes glittered as she leaned forward, and Kitty shrunk back, pressing herself into the chair as if she could disappear into its folds.

"Here’s my vision." Madame Noir’s voice took on a dreamy quality that sent chills racing across Kitty's skin. "The spotlight narrows to a single beam. In it stands Leo, magnificent and terrible. You enter, dressed in a skimpy outfit with lots of sequins that will cast rainbow reflections against the lights. The crowd holds its breath as you approach the beast."

Kitty shifted uncomfortably, heat rising to her cheeks.

"You'll circle each other, a dance of predator and prey. But who is which? The audience won't be sure, as you both attack and retreat. Then, at the climax, you'll drop to your knees before Leo. He'll rear up, massive paws on your shoulders, fangs inches from your throat."

"But that's..." Kitty started to protest, her voice higher than usual. Madame Noir silenced her with a look that froze the words in her throat.

"I'm not finished. As Leo's jaws open wide, you'll lean in. Slowly, you'll place your head in his mouth. The crowd will scream. They'll think it's all over for you. But then you'll pull back, unharmed. Leo will drop to all fours, suddenly docile as a kitten. You'll ride him around the ring, a conquering queen on her ferocious mount."

Kitty's mouth had gone desert-dry, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. She swallowed hard, tasting fear. "Madame Noir," she managed, "what you're describing is impossible. No lion would allow that, let alone one as unpredictable as Leo."

“If you take this job, I can guarantee your safety.”

“How?” she asked.

Madame Noir's eyes flashed dangerously, and for a moment, Kitty could have sworn they glowed with an inner fire. "You’ll find that in this carnival, the impossible becomes merely improbable.”

If she was going to stick her head in a lion’s mouth, improbable wasn’t good enough.

“So you’re saying he’s well trained and has done this type of thing before?”

“Absolutely. Now, let’s talk about compensation.”

Yes. Let’s.

“I’ll pay you a salary of one hundred thousand dollars a year, divided in weekly salary checks.”

Don’t react. While that was slightly less than what she was making before Brutus attacked the audience member, no one was even remotely willing to hire someone with her reputation for anywhere near that amount.

“Free room and board, as long as you travel with the circus. You work nights only. One show a night. The carnival will film your act and put you on our social media channels.”

“Will I have to monitor them?”

“Not unless you want to.”

“I don’t,” Kitty said quickly. She had no desire to see what people said about her.

“Your days are free to do whatever you want. You must be back on property three hours before the carnival opens, however.”

“I can do that,” Kitty said breathlessly. She couldn’t believe her luck.

“What I want from you is to thrill the audience, use your notoriety to install fear or hatred in them.”

“I’m not sure...”

“I am,” Madame Noir said with finality in her voice. “Now, do we have a deal?”

Kitty opened her mouth to argue against stirring up hate in the crowd, but the look in Madame Noir's eyes stopped her cold. There was something there, something dark and hungry that made Kitty's skin crawl.

"Of course," Kitty said instead. "I'll do my best to attract a crowd."

"See that you do," Madame Noir replied, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Now, why don't you go familiarize yourself with the grounds? You’ll start tonight."

“Tonight?” she asked. Her mind flipped back to Leo’s show the night before. He hadn’t attacked any of his handlers, but he was used to them. He wasn’t used to her.

Madame Noir waved her hand. “Go.”

Dismissed, Kitty stumbled out of the office, her mind reeling. What had she gotten herself into? The act Madame Noir proposed was suicide at best, and yet Kitty couldn't shake the feeling that refusing wasn't an option. What she was describing could only be possible with a lion cub who had been raised among humans, who trusted her like she was part of his pack—and as an alpha at that.

But Madame Noir hadn’t seemed concerned that Leo would harm her. Unless, she was setting her up to be eaten in front of the audience. But that didn’t seem likely. Kitty couldn’t draw in a crowd with her past mistakes if she were dead. She had hoped to fade into obscurity, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards.

Lost in thought, Kitty wandered the carnival grounds. The afternoon sun had burned away the morning mist. In the harsh light of day, the tattered tents and rusted rides looked even more decrepit than they had in the shadows. How would she even convey to Leo what he needed to do? There must be specific hand or voice commands that he was trained to do this scene with. But even backed up by years of practice, Leo couldn’t possibly be trusted to do them. And yet, Madame Noir seemed confident he would.

She headed to the big top. The massive tent loomed before her, its once-bright stripes now faded to a sickly yellow. The show wouldn't start until tonight, but she could hear the sounds of preparation from within – the clash of metal, muffled curses, the occasional growl that made her heart skip a beat. There were other animal acts rehearsing right now.

Slipping inside, Kitty made her way to the shadows at the edge of the ring. The smell of animal musk was overwhelming, bringing back a flood of memories – both sweet and bitter. She wanted another look at Leo and test the level of training that Madame Noir hinted at. Would Leo take a swipe at her or try to bite her? Or was he a big pussy cat and only performed the King of Beasts routine when he was in front of the crowd? Still, he was a wild animal, and she needed to see for herself what kind of lion he was. She wasn’t even sure she could have done this proposed act with Brutus.

The center ring was empty save for a single figure – a man, shirtless and muscular, working on what looked like a trapdoor in the floor. Kitty watched, mesmerized by the play of muscles under tanned skin as the man worked. There was something familiar about the way he moved, a sinuous grace that nagged at her memory.

Did he remind her of Marco? No. Marco was dark and this man was fair. Marco was built like a gymnast, all long rangy muscles. This man looked like a weight lifter. Kitty swallowed hard. And Marco didn’t make her shake with anticipation to see his face.

What was going on with her?

The man stiffened and slowly turned towards her. When their eyes met, Kitty's breath caught in her throat. She knew him, but she was sure they had never seen each other before. There was something in his face, his eyes that were hauntingly familiar. And she was surprised that she wanted him. She wanted to feel his arms around her, feel his lips against hers. Did his hair feel as silky as it looked?

She took a step forward towards him, drawn by an irresistible force.

"You," the man snarled, rising to his feet with a predator's swiftness. "What are you doing here?"

Kitty took an involuntary step back, her heel catching on the edge of the ring. She stumbled, catching herself against a support pole. The rough wood bit into her palm. The heady desire fled with a flash of fear.

What the hell was wrong with her?

"I... I'm sorry," she stammered, hating the tremor in her voice. "I was just looking around. I didn't mean to disturb you."

The man advanced on her, his face twisted in a scowl that sent Kitty's heart racing. "Didn't Madame Noir warn you to stay out of here during the day?"

"No. Why would she?”

The man's eyes... She’d seen them recently. She couldn’t place where.

“Stay away from me, then,” he gritted out.

"Who are you?"

The man's laugh was bitter, devoid of any real humor. It scraped against Kitty's ears like broken glass. "Just another freak in Madame Noir's menagerie. And you're the newest attraction, aren't you? The fallen star, come to reclaim her glory."

Kitty bristled at his tone, anger flaring hot in her chest. It burned away some of the fuzziness in her brain. "Apparently, my job is to bank on my bad reputation."

"Job?" He barked out another humorless laugh. "Is that what you think this is? You're just the latest in a long line of Madame Noir's playthings."

"I'm not anyone's plaything," she snapped, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

"You still don't get it, do you?" he said, his voice softer now, almost sad. "There's no 'job' here. There's no leaving. This place owns you now. Body and soul. You made a deal with the devil."

A chill ran down Kitty's spine at his words, raising goosebumps along her arms despite the stuffy heat of the tent. "I didn’t make a deal.”

“Didn’t you?”

Kitty thought about it. “I accepted a job offer.”

He grunted and shook his head. “You’re trapped, just like the rest of us.”

“I'm not a prisoner here. I can walk away any time I want. As long as I’m back three hours before the show," she said, recounting Madame Noir’s words.

The man's bitter smile returned, twisting his handsome features into something almost grotesque. "And what do you think will happen if you’re not back in time?”

“I’ll get a talking to. Written up.”

"Don’t let it happen," he said. He turned away, his dismissal like a physical blow. "Do yourself a favor, Kitty. Stay away from me. And if you have any sense at all, you'll find a way out of here before it's too late."

With that ominous warning, the man strode away, leaving Kitty rooted to the spot. Her mind reeled, a whirlwind of confusion and fear. Those eyes burned in her memory, golden and fierce. But what was even more strange was Leo wasn’t in his cage. In fact, she couldn’t find him anywhere.

For the rest of the day, Kitty wandered the carnival looking for the big lion. How could you misplace a five hundred lbs. cat? As she searched for him, she grew more and more afraid. No one would tell her where the lion was. How could she do this show—any show—without rehearsing? The man's cryptic words echoed in her skull, though. Every shadow seemed to hide a threat, every laugh carried an undercurrent of hysteria. She tried to focus on learning the layout, but her eyes kept darting back to the exits, counting steps, measuring distances.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purples and sickly oranges, Kitty found herself at the edge of the carnival grounds. The imposing gates loomed before her, twisted metal reaching skyward like grasping fingers. Beyond them lay the promise of the outside world, of freedom. Her heart raced, palms slick with sweat. It was two hours before showtime.

"You're not thinking of leaving, are you?"

The silky voice froze Kitty's blood in her veins. She whirled, nearly losing her balance on the uneven ground. Madame Noir stood mere feet away, a knowing smile playing on her crimson lips. How had she approached so silently?

"N-no," Kitty stammered, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to steady. "I was just wondering when the crowd would start to arrive."

Madame Noir's smile widened, showing too many teeth. They gleamed in the fading light, unnaturally sharp. "Soon."

That single word carried a weight of promise and threat that made Kitty's stomach churn. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As she turned to go, movement caught her eye. One of the other performers – a man covered in intricate tattoos that seemed to writhe on his skin – was sprinting towards the gate.

"Freddy, no!" someone shouted. But it was too late.

The tattooed man reached the gate and bounced back as if he'd hit an invisible wall. The sound of impact was sickeningly wet, like a ripe melon being split. He crumpled to the ground, body contorting at unnatural angles, a high keening escaping his lips.

Kitty's legs gave way, and she fell to her knees in the dust. Bile rose in her throat as her gaze darted between the fallen man and Madame Noir. The carnival owner's expression hadn't changed, that same eerily pleasant smile still in place. Her eyes, though, they glowed with an inner fire that was anything but human.

"Run along, Kitty," Madame Noir said flatly. "Freddy and I have a few things to discuss."

Kitty's body moved of its own accord, scrambling to her feet and fleeing blindly into the maze of tents and trailers. Her heart thundered in her chest, blood thundering in her ears. Ragged gasps tore from her throat as she ran, no longer caring where she was going, just needing to put distance between herself and what she'd just witnessed.

Finally, lungs burning and legs trembling, she skidded to a stop. She doubled over, hands on her knees, fighting to catch her breath. When she straightened, her stomach dropped. She was back at the main gate. How did she get back here?

The metal bars sneered at her, an implacable barrier between captivity and freedom. Panting, Kitty stared at it. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out a hand. She expected to feel nothing but air. Instead, her fingers met resistance, an invisible barrier crackling with energy. Pain lanced up her arm, and she snatched her hand back with a strangled cry.

"I told you so,” a familiar voice said from behind her.

Kitty spun, nearly losing her footing on the loose gravel. The surly man from earlier leaned against a nearby tent post, his expression unreadable in the gathering gloom. But his eyes... A jolt of recognition shot through Kitty, leaving her breathless. She recognized where she had seen his eyes before. It was impossible. And yet...

As the carnival lights flickered to life around them, bathing everything in an eerie, pulsing glow, Kitty stood frozen. The invisible barrier crackled at her back, the promise of pain. Before her, the man with a lion's eyes watched her, before he turned away and disappeared into the shadows of the approaching sunset.

Was she going mad?

Did she just see what she thought she saw?