Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

T he blood would keep her going, but she knew her exhaustion would catch up and pass it well before dawn. Sooner than she'd like, she'd be forced to seek sleep and full recuperation inside the portal's shelter. She was determined to make it through closing on her first show night, though.

It wasn't just pride. They were down two major team members, Marcellus and Merc. Dollar needed all hands on deck. While no one thought a follow-up attack was going to happen tonight, there were other things to watch out for.

Like the trio of boys who'd decided they were running away to the Circus and hidden in a large crate. Because her senses told her she was dealing with human children, she hadn't descended on them in full attack mode. Her normal ability to scare the bejesus out of a mortal worked just fine.

Under her stern gaze, the boys stammered out that they'd intended to hide there, living on the food supplies they'd brought, until the Circus packed up. Once they were in another town, they'd emerge and wheedle their way into being a new sideshow offering.

They had a juggling act, incorporating decent boy band dancing and singing. Ruth made them show her, and accepted a snack-sized Almond Joy from their "supplies" before she sent them home. She told them to graduate high school, then come back and apply for a job.

The incident lightened her mood and distracted her from far more sobering aspects of the evening. And the uncertainty about Merc.

Where the hell were he and Marcellus?

She'd only had a moment to tell Marcellus what was going on. But surely if he'd needed more info to help Merc, he would have been back to get that. Right?

When at last she heard from Dollar that Marcellus had returned and was at Clara's tent, she headed in that direction. Before she'd made it halfway there, she saw Merc. He stood at the entrance to the acrobat tent she'd visited earlier in the evening.

His eyes were back to normal, but they were like a snake's gaze, forbidding in its emotional opaqueness. His wings were at a tight half mast, joints looming over his shoulders, the feathers ruffling in the light breeze. His shirt was gone, and he wore only black jeans. No shoes.

All Fae were associated with an element. Catriona, as a tree spirit, was earth. While incubi weren't Fae, with their overwhelming sexuality, she expected they were associated with the earth as well. And possibly fire.

Hellfire.

Perhaps that was why Merc preferred bare sole contact with the earth, no matter the terrain or weather.

He disappeared into the tent, a clear invitation. She followed, pausing at the entrance. It was empty, since all the acrobats participated in the main show. Merc prowled around the large ball Sarita had balanced upon earlier. He glanced up as a trapeze twitched from the air currents.

"Are you okay?" Ruth asked.

He turned toward her. She wondered if he was masking any lingering effects from the hallucinogen, like fatigue. But maybe it didn't have that effect on an incubus or an angel. Or a combination of both.

"Yes. Are you?"

"Good to go. That's why I'm patrolling." She pulled the radio from her belt. "Dollar, can I get a few minutes off duty? Merc is back and I want to check on him."

"Yeah, we're covered. Marcellus is with Clara, same reason. Your juveniles have been perp-walked to a responding mother's car."

She pressed her lips against a smile. "Glad that threat has been contained." When she clicked off, Merc was still looking at her. She couldn't tell if he was curious about the exchange, but she explained it to him.

A nod. No smile.

Okay. She thought about moving to the bottom row of the audience seating and encouraging him to join her, but if she sat down, she wasn't getting back up. Best to avoid temptation.

"You taunted me at the lake," he said. "Challenged me."

She wasn't expecting him to go there, thinking tonight's drama would have made the argument water under the bridge. "You were being pushy. And mean."

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "You said I couldn't arouse a woman without my incubus…powers. But it isn't separate from me. It's who I am, and yet it's what makes me dangerous, out of control."

The red in his irises glinted, thanks to the yellow safety lights mounted in the rafters. "Do you consider your bloodlust part of who you are? How would you feel, having something that's so much a part of you, that you ache to let it loose, be the thing you have to contain? All the time. Otherwise, you incur a death sentence for the crime of being who you are."

The words struck a chord, targeting her heart, her sense of herself.

"I can tell you understand. But there's a difference. If I set my desires free, I kill indiscriminately. I take pleasure in it. I relish feeling their life force slipping away. When the drug was in my system, I felt that rise up, what I am required to hold down. All the fucking time."

The surge of black rage in his gaze almost had her stepping back, but she resisted the urge. She suspected he saw that struggle. But he also saw her contain it.

"When I looked at you," he continued, his voice soft with menace, "Feeling that way, about you, made me very angry. What kind of cruel god makes a creature like that? Like me?"

Another question she'd asked about herself, though perhaps with less, "I'd burn down the universe if I could" emotion than she heard in his voice. She answered carefully, but with sincere curiosity.

"Is it that you feel pleasure in their life force slipping away, or you feel pleasure in the feeding, the fulfillment of it, that sacrifice? The giving to you of everything, taking in who they are, a way of connecting. In that moment, you are together. It's not separate."

He studied her a long moment. "Except I'm taking their life."

"Vampires have an annual kill. You're aware?"

"I've heard of it."

"The purity of the blood, the spiritual component is important, because vampires already walk too closely to darkness. It's required to be a good person, not an evil one. We have to make our peace with that."

Even now, after having done it so many times, it wasn't the easiest thing to talk about, but it answered his frustration with something meaningful, not pointless platitudes. She would look at it without flinching.

"The first couple times I had to do it, my father was with me. He told me we have to survive, and if something made us this way, made it impossible to survive without it, then our obligation is to be humane about it, even while taking what we need to live."

She took a breath. "I try to give pleasure during it, to provide an anesthetic so the human never sees it coming. Never feel it, except maybe at that very last moment. A blink of fear and pain before it's over. And there's a moment where…I try to connect with them. So they don't feel alone."

Her mother had sat with her after her first one. "Say a prayer for his soul, and ask forgiveness. Because though the annual kill is necessary for you to live, his desire to live was no different from yours. You took his life, which connects you to him forever. You will meet again, because that's the way of it."

"It's different for me. For the incubus part of my blood," Merc said. "What I see in their eyes, in the end, yes, they are experiencing physical pleasure, but deep inside, a part of them is screaming. That excites me, too. In a way that makes me want to do it again. Sooner than is necessary. Tonight…reopened that craving to an unacceptable level."

She understood the drive of bloodlust, but what he was talking about…it was different. He was like an alcoholic who'd fallen off the wagon. All the effort to live a sober life was suddenly in jeopardy.

She swallowed as his gaze got flatter. "Have you ever fed on a vampire?" she asked. "An immortal being? Does it have to be human?"

"I haven't considered it."

Not until recently.

She read that from his unsettling gaze, but she wasn't going to cut and run. "We still have to have a human annual kill, but vampires can exist day-to-day on other blood, as long as it's from a humanlike species. My brother feeds exclusively on Catriona. Since she's part human, everyone pretends that's why she can meet his needs, but that's because Queen Rhoswen gets very prickly about vampires nourishing themselves on Fae blood."

"You're inferior to them." Merc shrugged.

She refused to be goaded, though she did roll her eyes before she made her point. "Maybe we should try it sometime. Feed on me, the way it's obvious you want to do. Not just a taste, like earlier. All the way."

She made the offer with a casualness she didn't feel, especially when his expression went from flat to full-on, in-her-face, hungry predator. Her knees quivered.

He hadn't moved, but he felt a lot closer. Still, his response was unequivocal. "No."

Which foolishly encouraged her to press the case. "Vampires can be killed by very specific things. Beheading. Burned to ash by the sun. Staking our heart with a hardwood."

"So plywood would be ineffective."

He was making a joke, but his tone didn't change. It was eerie, but also a full-blown warning that he was fighting a war for control inside of him.

She was perverse enough to keep pushing. "Point being, I've heard nothing about vampires dying from a sex demon's powers."

"It could still weaken you. Harm you. You are proposing an experiment with no guarantees or safeguards."

"Maybe on the guarantees. But there is a safeguard."

"What would that be?"

"You. You have control. You know how to use it."

"Within limits. Stop."

She'd started to move toward him, but halted at the tone of command. At least for now. "I think the idea intrigues you. It does me." Another step. "What would happen if you found you could have that limitless feed on another being and not take their life? For one thing, you could test whether what gives you the charge is actually killing them, or just having been given everything from them. Making that connection I mentioned. We all have a hunger for something deeper than food, Merc. We can pretend we don't, but it doesn't make it true."

"If you do not stop moving forward, I will leave."

"You do that a lot. Retreat when you don't want to have a conversation."

His gaze narrowed. "This isn't a retreat. It's a refusal to allow you to direct me in the way you wish."

Had he just suggested she was topping from the bottom? Okay, she probably was. But she had no problem with that. Not if it gave her the fight she craved. She was pretty sure it was right in front of her, a hair's breadth from taking up that gauntlet.

"Some kinds of questions are best left unanswered," he said. "It allows one to hold onto the idea that he might be better than he really is."

A fist closed around her heart. She remembered how Dollar had assumed Merc might have betrayed them. In a wrong-ass way, it made sense. He held himself away from the others, and no one seemed interested in changing that. Most of all Merc.

Don't offer friendship, and the question of whether anyone wants to be your friend, if anyone trusts you enough for that, is left unanswered.

"Females act like prey around you," she said. "Submissive females."

"You don't."

Was that what he'd meant, during that earlier conversation? "I'm not used to having casual conversations…with a female like you."

"A vampire female?"

"No."

Her submission, coupled with her lack of fear—despite his best efforts—was what had drawn his attention?

She pressed for more. "You encourage their fear."

"They lose it when I compel them. It only remains deep within, the unconscious part of them that recognizes the danger. That kernel of fear is the seasoning among the sexual desire. You have it, too, but it's a different…flavor." He shook his head. "So it's better for them to consciously fear me."

Bingo. He was aware of what he was doing with the keep away vibes.

She started to move forward again. This time he didn't tell her not to. When she stood before him, she tilted her head to look up into his forbidding expression. His hands were curled at his sides, tense. Waiting. "I want to touch you," she said softly. "May I?"

"Humans get fascinated with vampires," he said. "Like rock band groupies. Sex demons have the same problem."

She gave him a cool stare. "If you want me to stab you in the groin, you can suggest that's what this is. I'm happy to cut your ego down to size."

His lips twitched, but she could still tell nothing from his expression. Until he reached out and touched her face. Slid his fingertips along her brow.

"It's sometimes necessary to lie to those around us. So they do not know our thoughts, our condition. How we feel. You won't lie to me. Not ever. You're tired, Ruth. The Trad hurt you."

"I'm all right. I had some blood. I'll keep until the show is over." Yet she was still hungry. Maybe that was what was making her so unwise. One of many reasons. She started to lift a hand toward him.

"I didn't say yes." he said quietly. "Keep your hands to yourself. Or I will tie them behind your back."

"What will you do after you do that?" The growl in her voice was an invitation. Merc leaned in, his wings curving forward. They tempted her to defy him and touch. Maybe he'd clasp her wrist like he'd done earlier. She'd rubbed it before her latest sleep, thinking of that restraint, the heat in his hold.

"I don't think you'd like what I'd do, little vampire."

She curled a lip. "You're calling me that to piss me off."

"You're aroused."

"I can be turned on and angry at the same time. Most times, I prefer it that way."

Something eased between them, though that only increased the flow of erotic tension, making it nearly unbearable to resist the desire to come further within that wingspan, within reach of his tempting mouth. Tease her fangs against his, prick his mouth, see if he'd score her flesh with his.

"You haven't had a Master's firm hand," he observed, studying her, seeing it all.

"I haven't had a Master who knows how to handle me."

She hadn't had a Master at all, but she wanted to put it out there, what her expectations were.

The red disappeared back into the black, leaving only a mysterious hint of the blood color in his eyes.

Her radio beeped, startling her out of the lock with his gaze. "Fifteen minutes to the finale." Gundar's voice. "Line up for Promenade."

When she looked down to adjust the radio, wings brushed her face and her shoulders. Closing around her body, a cocoon. That was new. Then his hands slid down her back to give her ass a squeeze, so hard it made her gasp and shot arousal to her core.

Then his touch and presence were gone.

He was making a habit of that. She wondered if clipping his wings would help. Next time, she'd bring shears.

The Circus ended as it began, with a dramatic, thundering centaur race around the rings. They blew curved horns, leaped barriers with a flash of decorated hooves, reared high in the air and split the air with shrill, piercing calls that shivered down the audience's spines. Pholos led them, his fierce expression and brandished spear causing the crowd to draw back then cheer as he passed.

After that, the rest of the performers emerged and paraded along the same track. They strode within reach of the front row of audience members, only the short wall in front of their swinging feet separating them.

Children crowded that barrier, trying to touch sparkly costumes, as well as the unicorns, dogs and horses. The adult dragons perched in the rafters and called out to their young when they swooped too close to the audience, but allowed them to dance in the open space over the rings.

After three clockwise circles, the performers broke into clusters in the rings. Yvette gave the audience permission to come down to meet with them. Her command to do that in an orderly fashion was obeyed, helped by security members like Ruth, positioned to help enforce it.

Some performers had a personal bodyguard. Medusa sat on a tall crate, her snakes wrapped around her arms and neck, one or two poking their heads out from beneath the curtain of her thick curling hair. John Pierce was at her side. While he was kind to the children and curious parents, he projected a firmness that said all ages were expected to be respectful and restrained.

Medusa was good at that herself, encouraging the children to be gentle with the snakes and take turns asking questions. Ruth could see why the performers enjoyed this part. They could share their love of the Circus with the appreciative fans, and interact with the wider world in a way they might not be able to do otherwise.

Yvette understood the value of reminding her troupe they were part of that wider world. That way, nobody forgot how to be civilized. A thought that made Ruth look for Merc.

He and Marcellus were absent, so no flights around the Big Top with the kids. She understood; it had been a crazy night, but she was sorry to miss that. Hopefully she'd get to see it another time.

Yvette was demonstrating her single tail to wide-eyed children. They jumped at the sharp crack, then curiously fingered the fall and popper. The female vampire wasn't warm and fuzzy like Medusa or Clara, but the children were drawn to her, a fascinating but stern Goddess. When one shyly asked to touch her golden braids, Yvette gave her a measured look, then bent and allowed her a brief touch. Her gaze lifted as if she felt Ruth's regard, and a slight curve came to her lips, followed by a simple nod.

Approval, reassuring her that she'd done well tonight. But Ruth also saw simmering anger in the vampire female's gaze. Not at her, but at what had happened.

An hour after the last ticket holder had gone home and the Circus was closed for the night, the briefing happened. Ruth was glad to have experienced the pleasure of the Promenade. As Dollar had predicted, this was the polar opposite to it.

Yvette was pissed. And an angry female vampire sorceress her age was nothing fun to be around. She had no patience for speculation. She wanted the hard facts of what had happened.

Ruth and Dollar provided the information they could. Merc had taken a spot near the back of the acrobat tent where the meeting was convened. As Ruth was speaking her piece, she turned toward him. "I went down the midway while Merc tracked him from the parking lot. He may have more information on what the Trad did during that time period."

"Your senses did you credit," Gundar told her. "You did well."

"Yet the Trad still breached our perimeter," Yvette snapped at him. "With a seasoned and veteran security team in place. Congratulations can wait. For anyone. Merc?"

"He knew where he was going," Merc said. "It made more sense to allow him within the perimeter instead of killing him in the parking lot, because if we killed him there, we had no information on why he was here or who he was targeting. Clara is not the only one here with enemies."

Yvette stared at him, but Merc didn't flinch. His expression was a stone wall. It gave the energy between them a different charge, and not necessarily a good one.

"It's a good analysis," Marcellus said, breaking that look with a pointed emphasis that drew Yvette's gaze back to him.

"It all happened fast, and the show was in process," Dollar noted. "Up until he released the hallucinogen on Merc, we had it under control. Marcellus arrived in time to take care of that. Everyone's training was up to snuff, my lady."

"I see. Is that evaluation your call, Dollar?"

Dollar stiffened, braced for her ire, but he also proved he wasn't a coward. "You pay for my experience, my lady. And my honesty. I meant no offense or presumption. Just wanted you to know that everyone performed to the best of their ability. If you feel the training's lacking, I'll get on whatever you think needs to be improved."

"So why did he kill himself?" John Pierce asked. He stood next to Marcellus, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"Trads are zealots," Yvette said. "He was outnumbered, and he wasn't going to give up any info."

"All of it was planned too well, though," Ruth noted. "He knew she'd be alone. Knew their best chance to grab her was during the opening. They've scoped this with human help, probably hired help, so there was no Trad stench on them."

"Trads despise humans," Yvette said.

"Yes, but younger Trads see the benefit of using them as tools for their purposes," Ruth responded. "Several years ago, Lord Brian discovered a Trad in his lab who'd assumed the guise of a "normal" vampire to get the information Brian had on vampire fertility."

"Can we find one of these humans they used to recon the Circus?" Burt asked. "Get more info out of them?"

Ruth met Yvette's gaze. The sorceress was giving her a speculative look, but at Burt's question she gave Ruth permission to continue. "To stay consistent to their culture, if you want to call it that, when a human is done serving them, they kill them. But my guess is they wouldn't know much even if you could find them. They were hired to scope out the Circus schedule. They wouldn't be given access to any other part of the plan."

"You know a great deal about them," Dollar noted.

"I've heard them discussed at length by visitors to my father's island. My father has collected what info there is, from Lord Brian's science institute and other sources."

At Yvette's raised brow, Ruth qualified. "He has no desire to join them. But the Trads are like a different sect of vampires, living off the grid, refusing to have any interaction with humans except as food. My father was interested in their community, their social behavior, how they hunt and live." She paused. "He also had a young daughter on an isolated island. He did everything possible to protect and inform me of their tactics."

"Monsters." Gundar spat on the ground. Yvette arched a brow at him, but the simmering sparks in her eyes said she didn't disagree.

Dollar's gaze shifted to Marcellus. "It may be time to revisit the idea of relocating Clara."

"No." Clara sat in a chair near Marcellus. She was tired, her makeup no longer successfully covering it, but her chin was set in a resolute jut. She laid a hand on the etched metal on Marcellus's forearm.

"As long as Yvette agrees, this is where I stay. They can grab me anywhere, and this is the hardest place to pin down. It's also where I have the most reinforcement. As Merc said, many of us here have enemies. We stand together against them. All of them."

Marcellus's expression was as forbidding as Ruth had ever seen it, but he touched Clara's face with a gentle fingertip. "They can try to grab you anywhere," he corrected.

A slight smile. "Yeah. They can try." Clara turned toward Merc, and included Ruth in the sweep of her gaze. "Thank you both. I'm sorry either of you were harmed, but I'm very glad you were there and that all of you," she gestured to the full security team, "do what you do as well as you do."

She looked toward Yvette. "My lady, I know you have the last say on this. But as the target, I can say they did their job. I'm here, the bad guy is dead, and we have some more information."

As Yvette inclined her head, several gold braids fell forward over her breasts, lifted in a black satin corset. "I'm glad you're fine. But we evaluate every incursion into the Circus, beyond its success or failure. It's how we remain as effective as possible at repelling them. If I determine someone needs a punishment for it getting as far as it did, that is my call."

"Yes, my lady. But I hope that won't be the case." Clara paused. "It took a long time for me to believe what I just said, that this is the best place for me. I know it means people I care about are put in positions where they have to risk their lives on my behalf. Since I'm in danger no matter who I'm around, I've had to accept that being around those most equipped to handle it is the best scenario. It doesn't mean I sleep well over it."

"It's our job, miss." Dollar's voice held a strong and determined note. "If you weren't worth protecting with our lives, you wouldn't be here. That's how the Circus works."

His gaze slid to Yvette, a check to make sure he hadn't overstepped, but the slight incline of her regal head told him he hadn't caused offense.

Clara's eyes filled with tears, though she brushed them away. "Thank you, all of you. I'm going to bed. I should stay, but…"

Abruptly, she rose, turned and left the tent. Ruth's gaze slid to Yvette and Marcellus. He looked torn, his rigid expression telling her how much he wanted to follow her, even knowing they had more strategy to discuss.

She was the low person on the totem pole, and she'd shared the information she had. Ruth would get briefed by Dollar later. "My lady, may I…"

"You may." Yvette picked up on her thought.

"I'll watch over her until you come, my lord," Ruth told Marcellus. He gave her a slight bow.

"Thank you, Ruth."

She glanced toward Merc, feeling his shadowed expression resting on her. She gave him a nod, too, before she slid out of the tent.

Clara wasn't hard to track. She'd returned to her fortune telling tent, and was trying to clean it up, putting the broken things on her round table. As Ruth came in, the girl was sinking down against a post holding up the back tent wall.

She stared at the broken glass and chipped candles. Then her shoulders buckled, her hands covered her face, and she leaned forward into them to stifle the sobs.

Tenderness didn't come naturally to Ruth, but with Elisa as her mother, she'd had the best example of how to offer it. Kneeling next to Clara, she slid an arm over her back. The girl leaned against her, folding down to press her face to Ruth's knee.

Clara didn't say anything, ask any questions, or demand answers from the universe. She'd already proven to Ruth she had accepted its designation for her life. If Marcellus was here, Ruth suspected Clara would contain the tears, because most men felt helpless before such distress, wanting to fix it. Whereas women knew tears were their best way of finding the strength to take up arms against the world again. This was how Clara would work through it, so she could keep honoring the path Fate had chosen for her.

So Ruth sat with her, stroking her hair, being present. Standing with her new friend against an unbearable world.

When Charlie arrived, either because Marcellus or Yvette had requested her, or she simply knew where she was needed, Ruth relinquished her spot. Charlie stroked Clara's thick hair back behind one ear. "This earring is pretty," she noted, fingers tracing the strand of beads looped in an infinity knot. "That's from that Colorado craft fair, isn't it?"

Clara sniffled. "You should have let me buy you a pair."

"They fit you best. How about we get you to your quarters?" The blind healer rubbed her back. "I want to give you a good energy treatment, help you build up your strength."

As Charlie rose, drawing Clara to her feet, she staggered, because her patient's knees gave way. Ruth moved in and picked Clara up, cradling her in her arms. "Lead the way," she said.

Clara closed her eyes and put her face against Ruth's neck. "You smell like a forest. And wild things. The right kind of wild things."

She left Clara in Charlie's care once she felt Marcellus drawing near. Outside the RV that was their current quarters, Ruth paused before him. "She's all right," she said.

There was nothing else to say, because he knew what that meant. And didn't mean. When he moved toward the door, his right wing brushed her, an unspoken thanks. She ached for him. For them both.

"If she dies too soon, she had the chance to love someone with everything she is, and be loved back, the same way. That's worth anything, Marcellus. Even immortality."

She was a silly young vampire, saying things to an angel who'd stared into cosmic wonders she couldn't even imagine. But she wanted to help, to ease the pain she felt from him, and it was all she had.

Marcellus glanced over his shoulder. Then he nodded and went into the RV.

Loss was as much a part of life as anything else. But did it have to hurt so damn much?

She wandered through the camp. Once dawn approached, she'd meet Yvette at the portal so the two of them could sleep out of reach of the sun. Many of the non-human troupe members, like the centaurs, unicorns and dragons, returned to the in-between campsite as well. But she had a little time before she'd have to do that.

Though she was exhausted from the overly eventful night, she didn't want to go to bed just yet.

Roustabouts were playing cards and hanging out with performers, discussing the show. Many had plates of food. The cooks provided a generous post-showtime meal.

It had taken a while for all the ticket holders to leave, because they were encouraged to stay and spend their money on souvenirs and the midway attractions as long as they wished. But she'd been able to tell when they were all gone, because the environment was more like the in-between portal space. After showtime, Yvette's magical cloaking was put in place, an effective alarm system allowing for a skeleton security crew. Ruth had offered to take another shift, but was told she'd done her part for the night.

She saw Medusa sharing a plate with John Pierce. They were bent toward one another, bodies brushing. When he gave her food from his fingertips, Ruth's body tightened at the energy that sparked between them, a Dom caring for his sub, enjoying her reactions to his attentions. One of the snakes, coiled around her wrist, grabbed something off the plate, taking advantage of their distraction.

She picked up some blood. No one questioned why she needed more after having had Gundar and Charlie's. Maybe they didn't know about that.

Regardless, the cook on duty, Estella, gave it to her in one of the high-end souvenirs, a thermal travel mug with the Circus's elephant-dragon-rose logo engraved on it. "To celebrate your first performance night," she told Ruth. "And a gift for watching after our Clara. Bring it back for free refills anytime. You should go over to the Big Top. Fun stuff is usually happening there this time of night."

Ruth smiled, pleased at the gift, and headed in that direction. When she arrived, it was far busier than she would have expected. In the center ring, several performers were practicing moves they didn't feel they'd gotten quite right, or working out new routines. Choosing a section of the tiered benches with a good view, she took a seat along the top row and leaned against the guard rail behind it. At a squawk, she looked up to see one of the young dragons on a beam above her, eyeing her with measured intent.

"You're not big enough to eat me yet," she told him. "Give it a couple years."

Ruth looked around. Yep. There. Jetana was tucked up into the shadows, not more than a hundred feet away. Unsettlingly hard to see. Her large body was draped over crisscrossed scaffolding, able to hold her weight without much creaking complaint or danger of buckling the tent. The Circus had gifted maintenance workers.

Ruth wouldn't have thought it a comfortable bed, but the dragon was as motionless as the moon on a cloudless night, her half-closed eyes gleaming and nostrils flaring as she took in Ruth's scent.

Ruth immediately stood to give her a courteous bow. "I'll move if you prefer me not to be so close to your child," she said.

When Jetana lifted a formidable back claw to scratch her ear and yawn, showing teeth capable of eating everyone in the tent, Ruth decided to take that as an all's good .

As she drank her blood, she noted the meticulous way the workers were resetting things for tomorrow's performance. They would double check it then as well, to protect the performers and the audience. Despite the familiarity of the routine, they weren't careless about it. Everyone was fully charged, alert, fully involved.

The complexity, the beauty of all of it, gave her a sense of wonder. She was really part of this.

Now that the briefing was over and Clara was safely under Charlie's care, Ruth realized she was feeling a little giddy and wild. She wanted to run and play, celebrate, no matter how inappropriate that might seem. They'd dealt with serious shit tonight, but she'd been a part of the team that had dealt with it. She'd protected someone important, and had earned their respect.

"Busy?"

She tilted her head toward her shoulder. Where she sat, there was a seam in the tent, giving her a two-inch wide view of the outside. A familiar presence hovered at eye level with her. She inhaled him the way the mother dragon had. And considered what he would taste like.

"It depends. Is there a better offer than what I'm watching in here?"

"Very few things are better than being a Circus insider after a show. But I can give you a different view. Come to the storage tent, second one on the left outside of this one."