Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

M erc had busted open her lip early in the fight, and her hands had been scraped from stopping her forward progress when he'd tossed her across the sparring area. Minor injuries, which healed with a reasonable approximation of a vampire's normal regeneration ability.

Which was good, because by the time Charlie offered Ruth a damp towel to clean the blood off her face and hands, Yvette and Marcellus were headed her way. Lady Lyssa and Jacob had already departed.

Charlie had insisted on taping the aforementioned ice pack around her shoulder. It did help as promised, but as she rose from the crate where Charlie had parked her, Ruth wished she had no lingering evidence of injury.

"Will you tell me how I can improve?"

She directed that question to Marcellus before she could remind herself they hadn't confirmed she had the job. Ruth bit her lip. "My apologies, my lord."

Though he still looked as serious as a gravedigger who needed a drink, she thought she saw his lips twitch. "Later today, we will go over your responsibilities and you will meet your charge."

He turned away, walked two steps, stopped. Spoke over his shoulder. "You will spar with me, Merc, Yvette and others I deem suitable here to elevate your skills. Daily."

His way of telling her she'd shown she could maybe do the job. Only time would prove if that was true.

He strode off toward Merc, who was perched on one of the wooden posts marking the corners of their sparring area. His bare feet overlapped the edge, his excellent ass resting on his heels. His wings were spread at quarter mast to hold the position, the layered feathers trailing his arms, drawing eyes to biceps, thigh and calf muscles.

While he appeared to be watching the acrobats who'd resumed their practice, whenever her gaze shifted to him, his eyes would land on hers after only a couple heartbeats, as if he was perpetually aware of her regard.

None of the Circus members had spoken to him as they dispersed. No "good fight, good job" kind of thing. Not even a "Hey, Merc, now that you're not busy, give me a hand with this," though it was obvious everyone here had more than enough to do. Just like on their island, she expected all staff members pitched in and helped if they finished their own tasks more quickly.

But she also noticed how his attention stayed on the acrobats. When one of the more complicated throws didn't go as planned, all those muscles tightened. But he didn't move, his eyes tracking the woman who landed heavily on the ground. She was all right, rolling out of it, but him letting her fall while seeming like he'd wanted to intercept, was curious to Ruth.

Yvette had been watching Marcellus depart. "Angels aren't big talkers," she noted. "But that was decent praise. Your father didn't oversell your skills, but I wouldn't have expected otherwise from Mal."

"Is there more to this, my lady?" Ruth heard the ice in the pack click as she adjusted her arm.

Yvette lifted a questioning brow. A reminder that Ruth could ask questions of a vampire more powerful than herself, but she'd best tread carefully, and with respect.

"I'm honored to be given a chance to help, but to do the job effectively, I should know what the threat is. Lady Lyssa's involvement, and an angel… Even if the woman is his, it doesn't explain why her wellbeing warrants this much interest."

"Appropriate questions." Yvette nodded. "They'll be answered. For now, go to the food tent for some blood. It's safe-sourced, from vetted and willing staff members. The cooks are excellent, so enjoy sampling the food as well. I've arranged to have a guide show you around, and deliver you to your quarters afterward."

Charlie had picked up her first aid kit and slipped away, Ruth assumed to alert that guide to join them.

"You'll share sleeping quarters with our security team members who are single," Yvette continued. "It's best for you to stay closely coordinated with one another. You work in shifts, so you'll have time off, and there are plenty of places at our in-between campsites to get time to yourself."

"Of course, my lady."

"Good. I'll take a swallow of your blood now. From here forward, I'm your overlord. You understand what that means?"

She did. It wasn't a minor thing. The sampling of blood by an overlord or Region Master confirmed a vampire's loyalties. It also allowed them to locate Ruth if needed, or sense if she was in fatal distress.

Up until now, Ruth's mind had been more occupied with getting the job than the consequences of doing so. She reminded herself that Yvette couldn't be in her mind; not unless during the sampling she injected the serum from her fangs that would make that possible.

Doing that to another vampire, without their knowledge or permission, was forbidden by Council. Technically. A Region Master or overlord had a certain amount of discretion to increase the binding on their territory's vampires if they felt a vampire required the additional layers to keep him or her in line.

In short, allowing a vampire to take one's blood was an act of trust and loyalty that often preceded the earning of either of those things. But Lady Lyssa supported Lady Yvette, and supported Ruth being here. And her father had suggested she come to the Circus.

That was enough to mostly overcome her trepidation about anyone illegitimately gaining access to everything in her head. Blood family members were born with the ability, which was why she, Adan and her father could talk to one another the way they did. Her mother as well. Despite being a human servant, not vampire, the parental blood link allowed it.

"Your wrist," Yvette said.

Observing the protocols, Ruth dropped to a knee and extended her arm. Even with him fifty yards away, she was aware of an abrupt sharpening of Merc's attention.

So was Yvette, because her golden gaze slid that way, touched Merc. Her lips tightened before her attention returned to Ruth.

"Be careful of him." She clasped Ruth's forearm. "You show no fear of him, and he finds that far too intriguing."

"Is he used to women being afraid of him?"

"Yes. Any woman, of any race, would be a fool not to be. He's not safe, Ruth. Handsome, arousing, interesting, yes. But not safe."

"He was in control," Ruth said thoughtfully. "No matter what it looked like."

Seeing Yvette's look, one an older vampire would give a naive fledgling, Ruth knew she should work harder on not blurting out everything in her head. One of the dangers of growing up in the comfort zone of the island. But now that she'd committed herself, she explained.

"Marcellus wanted me tested. Merc pushed me out of my comfort zone to show Marcellus how I'd handle it. He knew what he was doing."

While she was pretty sure there'd been a personal and intimate component to that pushing, he'd helped her seal the deal on the job. He'd taken it farther than Marcellus wanted, but not farther than he had wanted.

Or Ruth herself.

"Mind what I'm telling you, and don't be too sure of yourself when it comes to him." But a glimmer of dark humor touched Yvette's gaze. "You've been raised around wild predators. Treat him the way you treat them."

With respect, compassion and an abundance of caution. Never turn your back, and never show weakness, because in a blink, you will become prey.

Yes. With the possible exception of compassion, that fit her analysis of Merc.

Yvette cupped Ruth's knuckles in one hand, clasped Ruth's forearm in the other, then dipped her head to bite. A quick pain, followed by a swimming sensation of sensuality and power. Ruth steeled herself so she didn't sway toward the woman. Yvette's eyes remained on her, her full lips closed over the penetration point. When she retracted her fangs, her tongue caressed Ruth's skin to close the wounds. Ruth couldn't contain her shiver, but that reaction to a dose of a stronger vampire's pheromones wasn't considered unusual.

Yvette squeezed Ruth's hand and released it. "Welcome to our ranks, child. Work hard, do well, and you'll earn a place here."

Yvette pivoted to stride back toward her quarters. The blacksmith dwarf was at the opening, waiting on her. Ruth had been officially dismissed.

"Hi."

Ruth turned to find a human woman standing a few feet away from her. She was in her thirties and had copious amounts of brown hair with hints of red. Two braids kept the abundance out of her face, the braids dyed a lighter brown and threaded with ribbons and beads. Her eyes were a mix of green, gray, brown and gold. A henna tattoo formed a graceful crescent from her temple to her jaw.

Gold and silver bracelets, embedded with crystals in multiple shades of green, adorned her arms. Similar stones hung from the double piercings in her ears and a chain around her neck. They weren't merely for decoration. Because a great deal of crystal work anchored the sanctuary magic, Ruth recognized the pale color of green amethyst, the stronger statement of polished malachite, plus fluorite, moldavite, and the rare prehnite.

"Yvette asked me to take you to lunch and show you around, if that's okay. I'm Clara."

Clara extended a hand. The human greeting wasn't often used by vampires. They didn't make physical contact until power lines were established, but Ruth had been around enough humans to react appropriately.

Clara's grip had a firm calmness, though the lack of threat in it was too pronounced. Like Charlie, Clara was thin, but whereas it suited Charlie to look that way, Clara looked well below the weight she should carry. The wide neckline of her loose cotton top slipped off one shoulder. As she'd turned to gesture toward the cook tent, Ruth had noted a vaguely familiar symbol tattooed on the back of it. The shirt was split along the seams of its two sides, forming a petal shape over a brown calico skirt, which swished as she moved.

"Yvette said you'd need some blood. That was some fight. You're good. Merc looked like he was actually having to try."

Ruth glanced toward the sparring area, but she already knew he was gone. It was unsettling to know she knew that, much like how he'd known when she was looking at him.

Then she remembered how he had described her charge. Gypsy fortune teller.

"Yeah, I'm the one you're here to protect," Clara confirmed, reading her expression. "From all the crazies in the world who think I'm the key to their evil master plan. No matter how ridiculous that sounds."

It did sound ridiculous. She was lovely…cute. Unassuming, like a cub. Not the type of female who could win the heart of a powerful angel like Marcellus.

But she had, so there was more here than it seemed. A definition Ruth applied to herself, so she would respect it. "So, you tell fortunes?"

"It's mostly intuition and deduction, giving people a little thrill and good feeling. I don't push deeper unless something in me says that's needed. And I always hope it isn't."

Her face tightened. The gesture made her look shockingly gaunt, and Ruth drew a step closer, as if driving that look away should be part of her untested arsenal of bodyguard skills. "I won't try to read you," Clara promised. "I don't do that with people I know and spend time around. It's not just being nice. I see things I don't want to see, learn things I don't want to know. I get enough of that in my head from other places, bad places."

"I won't ask," Ruth assured her.

Clara nodded. "I used to laugh a lot more. Smiling's harder."

"Perhaps that's why I'm here. It's definitely not because I'm the biggest and strongest on your security team. I'll teach you to play the way big cats do. They learn to hunt through play. They learn to protect themselves through play. Most importantly, they learn to enjoy each moment through play."

Seeing Clara's intrigued look, Ruth decided to go further down that rabbit hole with her. "Albert Schweitzer said the creatures of the world are caught in the darkness of Nature, where there's cruelty and loss, and indifference to both. But smart as he was, he missed that the creatures of the world don't carry the heavy psychological weight of that knowledge. Which means they embrace the joy of living each day, which eludes those of us who think we're so much smarter."

Clara blinked. "I love Reverence for Life . I keep a copy by the bed. There must be a good library on that cat sanctuary where you grew up."

So they'd told her a little bit about her newest bodyguard. Good. "My adopted uncle had shaman ancestors. He read other teachers' thoughts on life, death and everything in between. I like to read, and he encouraged the addiction."

The quick sparkle in Clara's gaze was a star on the twilight horizon. Holding the promise of growing brighter, if conditions allowed for it.

A woman in her thirties and a vampire in her eighties were roughly around the same age, maturity-wise, so Ruth felt an easy kinship with Clara she knew might or might not be beneficial for protecting her. Only time would tell. She had no comparable girlfriends, beyond Nerida and Miah, who lived at a women and children's sanctuary in Tennessee. Ruth saw them far too rarely, though they stayed in touch with the technology the world had available to them. She still wrote them letters sometimes, like she had well before the electronic age.

"A meal sounds good," Ruth said. "Then I'd love the tour. I've already seen a dragon. Will everything else be equally amazing?"

"Frequently." After a hesitation, Clara slid an arm through hers. "I feel like we're going to be friends, and I'm a very touchy-feely person with my friends. Is that okay?"

"If and when it's not, I'll break fingers to teach you to keep your hands to yourself."

Clara chuckled, a cautious sound. "Okay, you'll be a scary friend. That'll be all right, too."

Ruth had her worries about what she might screw up or where she might fall short. However, on this at least, she felt the same way.

Peak lunch time had passed, so the tables around the kitchen tent were less crowded. Clara secured Ruth the promised blood, plus herself a slice of angel food cake. The top and base were layered with thinly sliced fresh peaches. As Ruth sipped from the blood, Clara moved a couple bites of cake onto a saucer she put politely in front of her.

Vampires couldn't ingest great amounts of anything other than blood, but they enjoyed the tastes and textures of food. The cake and fruit were good.

"They do miracles in that kitchen." Clara chewed on her own light-as-air bite of cake. Ruth agreed, and gestured to the tattoo on Clara's shoulder and the henna on her face.

"What are these?"

"The henna reinforces the properties in the crystals. Healing, protection, balance. I do henna myself, for fun and decoration, but this is a special kind of application. One of the married couples does them. They work together, bringing feminine and masculine energy to the work for a stronger binding." She lifted the shoulder. "The tattoo is an angelic protection symbol. And tracker, in a sense. I like it because it's pretty. Marcellus likes it because it helps him do his job."

Clara's cheeks had flushed a fetching pink color. "So he put it on you himself?" Now Ruth realized why it seemed familiar. It looked like the work on Marcellus's arm guards.

"Yes. He puts his hand over the area, and chants the proper words. I could feel it marking my skin, but not like the sting of a tattoo. More like being the earth while a Creator carves it with rivers and streams. It hurts, but not in a bad way. And his voice put me in a dreamy state. He stroked my hair while he was doing it. It was one of the first times he initiated that kind of touching with me. Before that, it was mostly me throwing myself at him."

Ruth grinned and Clara answered in kind before glancing at the tattoo again. "Most the Legion angels carry similar marks, praises to the Goddess, promises to serve Her with their lives, that kind of thing. They're applied via the same method, but Marcellus says an angel acquires them from higher-ranking angels, as an honor or award. One of those soldier type rituals. They can let them be visible or keep them melted beneath the skin, but they usually come out full wattage during battle."

"I saw them, when I first met him."

"They're sexy, right? Like everything about him." Clara gave Ruth a wry look. "I know what you're thinking. Everyone does. Him and her? Really? An angel and a strange mortal girl, centuries younger than him?"

"I had the thought. But I expect I'll understand why before too long." Ruth took another swallow of the blood. They'd seasoned it, and the flavor was excellent. Her initial caution about taking prepared blood, instead of fresh from the vein, had eased. It was also restoring her, the aches and pains melting away. "Even if I didn't, love doesn't have to make sense to anyone but the people involved."

"Unless it hurts too many others."

Ruth shook her head. "I think that's a separate issue. The love exists. If it sucks for others, if the cost of pursuing it is too great, a person can stop acting on it, but they can't stop feeling it."

"And since Love is connected to the Divine, the question is why was it given to you if it wasn't meant to be pursued? It might be an act of will that serves a good yet unseen." Clara made a whimsical face. "I've done some spiritual soul searching between the covers of a book myself. Maybe we can trade libraries."

She put her chin on her hand. The bracelets slid down her arm with a pleasant chiming noise. "You sound like you have firsthand experience, though."

"No. My father did. My mother did. Others I've met. But my father told me once, ‘Love can kill you. Hate can force you to live. But only the one that can kill you is worth living for.' I kind of took it from there."

Clara gave her an impenetrable look. "What?" Ruth asked.

"I'm starting to understand why they sent you here. So I'm going to apologize ahead of time, for when you hear how I threw a tantrum over having another ‘goddamn babysitter I didn't ask for.' He has this infuriating way of listening to me like an adult listens to a raving child, until I honestly want to hack off his wings with a steak knife. But then he'll do something that tells me he was listening all along."

Clara's expression became more tender. "I used to be a pretty social person, but because of my gift, I didn't have many close girlfriends. The ones I did…I needed them, as in really needed them, to keep my sanity. As this ability expanded, it got down to one. Alexis. We used to be able to spend a lot more time together. She has some abilities that helped her relate to my struggle with mine. But she's also a merangel, and her mate is a seriously terrifying Dark Spawn vampire sorcerer. That's okay, he's the right person for her, and they love each other to pieces, but he's apprenticed to a Dark Guardian, so Alexis is often on adventures with him."

"Like Adan and Catriona."

Clara brightened. "That's right, I'd almost forgotten. You're Adan's sister. He's wonderful."

"Catriona is wonderful. He's a pain in the ass. For my thirtieth birthday, he ground up a Carolina Reaper pepper and mixed it into a glass of my dinner blood. He did stop me from taking more than one swallow, but I was hacking and wheezing for an hour. He told me it was to welcome me to vampire adulthood—thirtyish is the vampire version of that. My throat and tongue were raw for a day."

"A Carolina Reaper pepper?"

"Ranked one of the hottest in the world, and sold by the Puckerbutt Pepper Company. I think the name was part of the appeal to him." Ruth pointed a stern finger at the amused fortune teller. "Don't be fooled. The mature and serious Light Guardian is all an act. His core identity is obnoxious asshole older brother. He claims the ‘older' shit only because he shoved me aside to come out first."

"You adore him, I can tell. But I won't rat you out. We have a couple performances in the Carolinas. Maybe we should get some of that pepper and return the favor."

Ruth scoffed. "I got even a week later. When you get a chance, ask him how, and watch him lose his shit."

Clara laughed out loud. The heads of the few people sitting nearby swiveled in their direction. From the pleased surprise they showed, touched with some concerning poignancy, Ruth determined Clara's mirth wasn't as common an event as it may once have been.

Though she'd have to guard against sentiment, she was already feeling drawn to the young woman herself. "I know Alexis," she told Clara. "She and Dante have come to the island a couple times."

While Adan and Dante talked magical sorcery stuff—obsessive workaholics—Ruth had shown Alexis around the sanctuary. They'd ended up hanging out in Ruth's tree for a couple hours, talking about Alexis's work with an ocean center in Florida and her travels with Dante. As well as her angel father and mermaid mother.

So often in their world, people were circumspect about their backgrounds, but Alexis had been refreshingly open. Ruth had liked her. She wouldn't mind getting to see her again.

"Your cat sanctuary sounds like supernatural species central," Clara noted.

Ruth chuckled. "You should hear my father complain about it. So…how long do we have to know one another for you to tell me what sex with an angel is like? In great detail."

Clara had put a slice of peach in her mouth. Her startled reaction sent it down her windpipe and set off a burst of coughing. But the light in her eyes grew encouragingly more sparkly.

"Newest security hire lets VIP choke on peach and die," she wheezed. "That's going to suck on your resume."

"I will engineer a cover up," Ruth told her, though she shifted to tap Clara on the back until the peach was properly rerouted.

Clara sent her a watery-eyed look. "You're really not what I'm used to from a vampire."

"Impossibly scary or irritatingly stodgy?"

"You've met a few. Do all of them look at you like they're determining where you rank in the food chain? Literally."

"Well, it's hard not to. We're in the top ten in that chain."

"Who ranks above you?"

"Angels for sure." Ruth's mind moved to the incubus male who also had some angel blood. His fighting skills, his strength, were far superior to hers. If Merc had gone all out, he would have killed her. She didn't doubt that. But thinking about Yvette's warning, she decided to test it out on her new friend.

"What can you tell me about Merc?"

Clara's reaction was impossible to miss. Uneasiness and apprehension. Coldness gripped Ruth, the girl's emotions triggering a punitive response. Irresistible sexual beast he might be, but she'd figure out a way to chop off those relevant parts if he'd done something to warrant it. "He's harmed you?"

"Oh, no," Clara assured her, though her gaze remained sober. "Not exactly. Merc is…difficult around women. We all know not to be alone with him. Not ever. Incubi…most of them, the pure bloods, they don't live too long, not by human standards. The hunger for sexual energy drives them, and it keeps growing. Sometime around their thirties, it has a high chance of going from hunger to addiction. They start draining women for the high of it."

She shook her head. "While most of us might say dying of an excess of sexual pleasure is one of the better ways to go, at that point, Guardians have to execute them." Clara paused. "I'm not sure you could call whatever created incubi and succubi a loving deity, but I guess the clue is in what else they're called. Demons. Sex demons."

A different feeling gripped Ruth at the ominous words. "But Merc isn't a pure incubus."

"Marcellus doesn't say a lot about it, but he's told me Merc's incubus side is at constant war with his angel side. Don't get me wrong," Clara added. "He's way better at self-control than the first years I was here. Sometimes I think he enjoys making people think that grip is still far more of an iffy thing than it really is. But Marcellus warned me not to get complacent. He said though it might take a far stronger trigger than it once did, it can still be tripped."

A shadow crossed Clara's face. "There are those who say he wants to let it go. He doesn't want to resist it. That the self-control is just an act."

"Has he ever harmed anyone here?"

"No. The worst he did was before he came to the Circus, years ago, but it was pretty bad. Marcellus is in charge of him. Which also means in charge of his execution, if Merc crosses that line again. It makes their relationship complicated. Sometimes I think Merc likes yanking that chain. As if daring Marcellus to do it."

"You've read him," Ruth realized. "Merc."

Clara lifted her gaze. It had that haunted tightness again, telling Ruth the source of her gauntness. Her abilities took a toll. "Once. I didn't mean to, but something happened where he did scare me. It opened up the part that reads people. Really reads them, not what I do for the Circus. I saw…"

She stopped herself. "That's not for me to share. It's about him, and the things I see, yes, they come true a lot, maybe almost always, but sometimes I think, if there's even a chance it won't end that way or come to that, if I say it aloud, I destroy that chance. Does that make sense?"

It did. Though Ruth really wanted to know what she'd seen, she understood that feeling. Plus, she'd gained the information she needed.

Merc was trouble. Lots of trouble. Knowing he was a danger to Clara or other women pissed her off, and made her recall the meanness she'd detected in him in the yurt. Yet Marcellus was obviously devoted to Clara's well-being and protection, and Merc was part of her protection detail. If Marcellus thought Merc was a true danger to Clara, Merc would be nowhere near her.

More than that, she expected the incubus would be six feet under and worm food. The contradiction was puzzling.

"When you fought him, it didn't feel like you were afraid of him at all. Were you?"

She tuned back in to Clara's words. "No." At least not of what made Clara and the other women afraid. That just made her want to kick his ass, and get past what she was pretty sure was bullshit, even if it was genuinely dangerous bullshit. Her desire to pursue what lay behind it was what made Merc most dangerous to her .

She thought about what she'd seen after the sparring match. No one talking to him, no obvious friendships. And he'd been here well over a decade.

Seeing Clara regarding her pensively, Ruth realized the conversation was taking too dark a turn. She didn't want to pull Clara there, since the girl was already dealing with enough of that. Ruth tossed back the rest of the blood as Clara finished the cake. "Ready to show me around?"

"Sure." Clara tidily put their plates and cups in a wash bin. Before they left, she introduced Ruth to the few occupied tables. She received friendly acknowledgements, curious looks, and brief summaries of their roles she committed to memory.

"We'll do more introductions over the next few days," Clara told her as they exited the tent. "We have a pretty good-sized crew here, and that's just the humanlike races. Best to take it in stages. Yvette mainly wants you to know who and what to expect, so you don't offend someone by accident."

"Like large dragons?"

"Amazing, aren't they? Dragons have serious protocols, so until you learn them, it's best not to approach Jetana or her mate, Tragar. If you do surprise one of them, act like you've met Lady Lyssa in dragon form." Clara stopped to demonstrate. "Respectful bow, back away, apologize for disturbing, et cetera. Now, if the babies take a liking to you, and want to perch or nibble, there's no protocol for handling that. Just survive it the best you can."

On that alarming note, Clara pointed out the communal showers and sleeping areas, including the pavilion tent where Ruth would be quartered. It was on the western perimeter and looked roomy for the fifteen people Clara said shared the space, including Ruth.

They moved past the Big Top, set up for practices and meetings of the whole troupe. Beyond it were hilly open fields and patches of forest. From Adan's description, Ruth expected the in-between portal spaces drew in the real world environments they bordered, like the corner of a blanket pulled in under the crack beneath a door.

It was how the piecing of the island habitats to their real world counterparts worked. On the preserve, the "savanna" environment had a portal border to the actual African savanna. Though in their case, there were filters that allowed prey from the real savanna to wander in limited groups into the island savanna, offering the cats a chance to hunt.

Clara explained what other non-human races were with the troupe. Centaurs, unicorns, mermaids. A handful of common Fae, pixies and gnomes, were here. Their participation was permitted by King Tabor, the Seelie ruler, and Queen Rhoswen, the Unseelie one, Lady Lyssa's half-sister. The one Ruth would cheerfully have punched in the face, though Adan and the Queen got on tolerably well now. Her brother was far more forgiving than Ruth.

"So many different peoples work and live together here who aren't always friends outside of it," Clara said. "I like the hopefulness of that. Look over there."

Ruth followed Clara's pointing finger down the hill they were standing upon. The slope was populated by white, yellow, purple and orange wildflowers. At its base, a lake spread out in an irregular shape, its slate blue waters lapping at sandy banks. A lissome windsurfer, clad in a wetsuit, was taking advantage of a fresh wind to streak across the water's surface. She moved with her craft with grace and strength, anticipating its movements, gripping the bar on the sail.

"Oh." Ruth's eyes widened as two mermaids leaped out of the water, clearing the curved long line of the sail. It was a dramatic display of sparkling scales and bare skin, arched backs and throats. They circled the craft, came back and leaped again, one over the bow, the other over the stern, a choreographed dance.

"Sometimes we do water shows when we have performances on island resorts. That's Medusa they're practicing with. She and her man, John Pierce, have a house on an island off the Florida coast, a private artists' retreat. They go there during the Circus's off months. We do three months on, one month off. JP's a former special ops guy and totally hot."

"Like almost every person I've seen here," Ruth observed.

"Yeah. Everyone new is given a week to gawp and drool before they're expected to pull it together. As a vampire, you're so used to being around eye candy, it's probably nothing special."

"Yes. If we didn't come with the uber-charged libidos."

Clara chuckled. "I've noticed that. Whenever I've met a vampire here, I can tell they're doing the food chain evaluation, but they're assessing other things, too. It's unsettling, but most are decently polite about it."

"As in, ‘I'm thinking about all the ways I could fuck you, but if you're off limits—and your winged boyfriend could turn me into meat shavings—all I'll be doing is thinking about it.'"

"Exactly." An enigmatic smile touched Clara's mouth. "She's coming in. Let me take you down to meet her."

When they reached the water, Ruth moved forward to help Medusa pull the craft onto the shore. A courtesy, since the woman looked more than capable of doing it on her own. However, as Ruth bent to grasp the board, she froze.

She was eye-to-eye with a bush viper.

A stuttered heartbeat later, she realized the snake was curled around Medusa's arm. He had lifted and extended his head from where it had rested on the top of her hand. Now he doubled back to slither up her arm and join another snake, a much smaller one. They tied themselves in a companionable knot, then the smaller one formed a loose necklace around the woman's throat and put his head on her shoulder, gazing out at the water as if he wanted her to return to windsurfing as soon as possible.

While Medusa looked young, Ruth sensed that impression wasn't accurate. The sea green eyes studying Ruth held a maturity beyond her apparent age, and she looked human, but wasn't fully, though Ruth couldn't determine her race.

"Medusa, this is Ruth, the newest member of the security team. And appointee to my private army."

"Welcome." Medusa measured her with a glance. "If you passed Marcellus and Yvette's inspection, you must be impressive."

"She sparred with Merc," Clara said. "And held her own."

"Really?" Medusa's interest increased. "If you need additional practice partners, count me in."

"Have you sparred with Merc?"

"In a way." Ruth noted the reserve in the response, similar to Clara's reaction. "We had a couple run-ins where I emerged unscathed. My snakes don't care for him, so we avoid one another."

Not really the answer she wanted to hear, but Ruth let it pass, since today wasn't about solving the mystery of the male she was supposed to have met here for the first time.

She'd handle that part of things with him soon. She didn't like deceiving her new employer. Even if it was information that hadn't been requested, she knew the dangers of a lie of omission. She would tell Yvette, but she'd discover the reason for Merc's strong aversion to that first.

"Good stage name," Ruth observed. "Are the snakes on the water part of your performance, or do they just like to tag along?"

Medusa glanced at Clara.

"No, I haven't told her yet." Clara turned to Ruth. "Medusa is that Medusa. The turning-to-stone eye thing, the snake hair-do. All of that was a curse. JP went through an alternate dimension time thing facilitated by Maddock—he's a sorcerer and Charlie's boo."

"Though it took them an eternity to admit it," Medusa put in with a female eye roll.

"Tell it, sister. You'll meet him eventually," Clara added. "Adan knows him, too. Maddock worked with Yvette on some of the later modifications to the Circus's way of traveling through portals. Anyway, Maddock helped JP and Medusa end the curse."

Medusa smiled at Ruth's expression. "The Circus's inhabitants all have their own stories. I suggest taking them one bite at a time."

"Maybe not the best way of putting it to a vampire," Ruth rallied. "It doesn't take much to encourage us to get fang-y."

Clara looped arms with Ruth. "I like her a lot already."

"I can see why."

The softening of Medusa's gaze as it touched Clara reinforced what Ruth was picking up. Everyone was worried about the fortune teller.

When they left Medusa to continue her practice, Ruth put aside her fascination with her new environment to focus on her charge. "How long have you been here, Clara?"

"Ever since I left college. Initially, it was a temporary gig. That was the first time my clairvoyance attracted the attention of a bad guy. It was scary, but compared to now, it was so much simpler. I saw something I shouldn't have seen, my cluelessness brought it to the attention of the wrong people, and they came after me. Thanks to Alexis and Dante's connection to the vampire and angel worlds, the Circus was determined to be a good safehouse. So I joined the troupe. By the time the danger was past, I'd decided I liked it here."

Clara lifted a shoulder. "Can't take the gypsy out of the blood. My great grandmother was a traveling fortune teller, too. I ran away from college to join the Circus. I never really got past the general curriculum to settle on a major, anyway."

She took a breath. "A few years ago, my abilities started changing. Theories differ. Some think it's because of all the energies of the Circus, but I don't think so, because I left it for a while to hang out on Medusa and JP's island, and it just kept expanding. I started to tap into bigger plans, from bigger bad guys. Things that affect the fabric of our world. Maddock believes it's a natural evolution of a gift the universe wanted me to have."

She grimaced. Her shrug looked like it was resisting a weight pressing down on her shoulders. "Gives me terrible headaches afterward. Like my head is going to explode. Charlie can put her hands on it, and not necessarily make it go away, but it's like some of the pain goes into her hands. It's even better when she has Marcellus do it and overlaps his hands with hers."

She managed a glimmer of that natural twinkling personality that Ruth was realizing wasn't gone, but it had taken a beating. Maybe a lot of beatings. "The first time she thought of having him do it, I told him she'd given me a great reason to have a headache. He didn't think it was funny, but that was when he was way more of a sourpuss. Plus…he doesn't like to see me in pain. Let's look at the sky."

She folded herself down among the wildflowers, her skirt billowing around her calves. As she stretched out, stacking her hands behind her head, her colorful outfit and jewelry made her a picture among the equally vibrant wildflowers. Ruth sat down cross-legged, but Clara pulled on her arm, so she stretched out next to her. "If you lie here long enough, quietly enough, sometimes the pixies will come land on you. They'll ignore you, talking among themselves, but they'll braid flowers in your hair, paint pictures on your skin, things like that."

Clara gazed up at the sky. "You know, when I first realized I was clairvoyant, which seems like a hundred years ago, I would see things that I couldn't change. People's deaths, terrible things that were going to happen to them. Sometimes good things, though. Now…I can make a difference. I pass the information on to Marcellus, Maddock and Yvette. Depending on what I've shared, they make sure the information gets into the right hands. It's like I'm an undercover spy. The problem is, it's not undercover enough. There's something that happens when I really lock into a vision, where my presence can be sensed. And tracked."

When Ruth sent her a sharp glance, Clara offered that grimace again. "It's like the universe wants to balance the advantage I didn't ask to be given, with a downside I really don't want. The way the Circus moves around, in and out of portals, makes it very difficult to pinpoint my location. If I stay out in the world too long, and whoever detects me hasn't been dealt with, they're looking for me. To use, or dispatch as a loose end. Since the Circus only does three-day bookings at a time, and to date, thanks to Maddock and Yvette's skills, no one has associated me with them—knock on wood—me sticking with them is a win-win. And we've taken other precautions."

She lifted a lock of her hair. "Like this. The consensus from the security squad was that I had ‘far too noticeable' red hair. Yvette changed it for me. I miss it sometimes, but a least she left me a hint of the original color."

She gestured at Ruth. "Part of why you're here is I'm no longer Marcellus's sole responsibility. He was injured when he was initially assigned to me. That scar on his chest, and another on his back, beneath his left wing, are the only remaining evidence of it. It's taken a while, but thanks to Charlie and his own angelic powers, he's healed enough he can command a Legion battalion again."

"He definitely seems like someone who should be ordering troops around."

"Yeah. He rocks that sexy commander thing. But he deeply missed being part of them. It's a brotherhood. I'm glad he's able to do it again, though I miss and worry about him when he's not here. It's a lie, that nothing can kill an immortal. But you know that, don't you?"

Ruth nodded. Clara pressed her lips together. "Some of the things I've seen have increased the Legion's responsibilities, over and above what they were already doing in the universe. Sometimes he has to be with them. He doesn't like it, but we both know it's needed. So I agree to whatever protection measures he wants when he's gone, within reason." Her mouth set in a stubborn line. "Being reasonable isn't his biggest asset."

"Care to share what is?"

Clara swatted Ruth's thigh, but chuckled as she did. "I tell you threat-to-the-universe stuff, and you make dick jokes."

Ruth lifted a shoulder. "Humor's how I counter too-serious stuff. When I get overwhelmed by it, I can't live. Or think clearly about how to handle it."

Clara looked at Ruth thoughtfully. "We don't know one another well enough for you to trust me yet, but if we reach that point, I wouldn't mind knowing more about what can overwhelm you."

Ruth had lain down next to Clara at an angle, so it put their faces close, their shoulders almost brushing. The wistful tone behind the question, the way the hazel eyes darkened, told Ruth that Clara wasn't poking into someone else's business out of idle or uninvited curiosity.

"Okay." She leaned in and put her mouth on Clara's, a playful, teasing kiss with a touch of tongue, a scrape of fang over her full bottom lip. Clara stiffened in surprise, but then relaxed as Ruth kept it as she intended it. Light and easy, an exchange of female intimacy. She was smiling against Ruth's mouth as Ruth put her hand to the girl's throat, the pulse speeding up under her touch.

When Ruth settled back, lacing her hands on her stomach, Clara huffed out a breath. "Vampires," she said.

Ruth smiled. "Yes. I intend no disrespect to your angel. But it helps me to know more about you, and you needed the distraction."

"Glad you're looking out for me." Clara shot her a droll look.

While they took a break, going quiet to gaze at the sky and enjoy their surroundings, Ruth thought about what Clara had told her. Yvette had said she would be given the truth about the girl's need for protection, and now that she had what she suspected was the gist of it, she needed to consider what other questions she should ask.

Clara's hand was still close to hers, and a few moments later, her pinky tapped Ruth's knuckle, a signal to stay still. Ruth saw a pair of pixies hovering over her bent knee. One landed on it with dainty feet and used the perch to bend and adjust the hem of the skirt she wore, layered and shaped like a rose bud.

The other spoke to her impatiently. Ruth couldn't make out the language, but the whispery sound reminded her of the sound nodding flowers made when they bumped and slid against one another. Something most human ears couldn't pick up, not consciously. The other pixie dipped down, seized her friend's tiny hand and they were aloft again. They disappeared like hummingbirds.

"You weren't kidding about them ignoring you."

"Yeah. When they're practicing for a performance, they'll tune in and respond. Yvette has a universal translator spell over the Circus grounds, so we can understand one another, but everyone knows how to turn it off, if they want to talk to their own race without anyone listening in. So if you don't understand a conversation, that's why.

"Though they don't seem like it, usually they're hyperalert as house flies." Clara fluttered her fingers over her stomach. "If you'd lifted a hand toward them, they would have been gone before you could blink. But they'd mark the insult. Usually they'll raid your living quarters and take small items, make you think you're losing your mind."

"Has anyone threatened to go after them with a fly swatter?"

"Yvette. Numerous times. Though she doesn't mean it. She's very protective of them, of all of us. Leadership leads by example. We take care of one another here. It makes it hard to ever want to leave."

"Unless you have no other choice." Ruth met her new friend's gaze. "Does it feel like a prison sometimes?"

It was the worst thing about being at risk for whatever reason—being weaker, or having traits that put one at the edges of the herd, vulnerable to attack. Who you were, who you wanted to be, your options, your horizon, could become lost in all that.

"There was a time I felt that way," Clara said slowly, shadows in her gaze. "But we go everywhere, and I see so many amazing things. Maddock and Yvette's shielding of my identity have allowed me to keep interacting with the audience on the midway. Then there's Marcellus."

Her face softened in a way Ruth knew well. She'd seen Elisa look at Mal with that expression a million times. Since her father was hyperaware of Elisa's state of mind and whereabouts, he'd often turn and meet Elisa's gaze, giving her his own version of that expression. As Ruth had developed a woman's heart and mind, it had seeded the yearning to want a male like that. One who would look at her the same way, with all that it meant.

"Figuring things out with him," Clara said. "That was a big part of finding contentment with what and where I am. If I wasn't human, he could fly me up into the heavens so I'd be permanently out of harm's way, but he does take me flying. I mean, for a woman with ‘limited' options, I've had a thousand more experiences than most ever get."

She sat up, brushing grass off the back of her shirt. Ruth helped her reach where she couldn't, and Clara did the same for her. As Ruth rose, she helped the girl all the way to her feet, clasping her hand.

She knew how to modulate her strength for handling a human, so her brow creased when Clara flinched, jerked. Then she swayed on her feet. Ruth slid a steadying arm around her.

"Clara, what's going on?"

Clara looked toward the lake, where Medusa was practicing with the mermaids. Only she wasn't seeing them. Her body went loose, wobbly, a puppet with cut strings.

As Ruth caught her before she could fall, the girl's pupils dilated. The black took over the way Marcellus's did, only they didn't stay dark. Instead the blackness was swallowed by a murky gray.

Clara began to convulse.