Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 160578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 803(@200wpm)___ 642(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 803(@200wpm)___ 642(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Two paths were created for me. Midnight Mayhem, where the final act is riding dick, and the Elite Kings Club, where people feared you more than they liked you.
Two-stroke engines ring out in the distance as I finish up my makeup. With one final swipe, the color of red wine stains my lips. Clipping the lid back on, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. If I had been able to choose, would I have really chosen differently?
No.
A group of girls bounce through the door, unzipping their outfits and laughing with each other. One of them stops when she sees me, her smile falling. I am not offended that none of them speak to me. I prefer it that way. It will be easier for when I have to leave. Because I will leave. I know that much for certain.
“Sorry, Luna…” she whispers, bowing her head. Scars mark her body, telling a story of her past. At least they have something to do while they are here. Something that makes them smile the way they did moments earlier.
“Don’t say sorry.” My eyes burn when I don’t blink. Afraid that if I do, I won’t finish the sentence. I’ll go back to being the weirdo who runs the circus but who doesn’t engage with any of them.
They all stare at me with a mixture of shock and confusion.
I use my pinkie nail to clean the edge of my lips. “Saying sorry implies that you’ve done something wrong. You say that to the wrong person, and they’ll see it as a weakness. Are you weak?” When there’s no answer, I find them in the mirror, raising my brows.
All three of them shake their head with a round of mumbled no’s.
“Good.” I smack my lips. “Get ready for your next set.”
They scramble off in silence, the opposite of how they arrived. Clipping the buckle on my ankle, my phone lights up beneath the desk.
My mom’s name flashes over the screen.
“Hey, Mom…” The tension in my shoulders eases.
“I’m just making sure you haven’t accidentally killed someone.”
I laugh. It’s unfamiliar and feels like cracks splitting over my cheeks. “I miss you. How’s everyone?” I rest back in my chair and cross one leg over the other, exposing fishnet tights. Even in the confinement of the changing section, the atmosphere is an allure of striped walls and crowned skulls.
“Good. Perse and King are visiting this weekend so we’re changing the itinerary to fit an appearance from them.” Midnight Mayhem used to be a single tent that would travel all over the world as one. The same rule applied then as it does now, with the shows starting at the stroke of twelve, but after the death of one of the Brothers—can’t remember which one—they decided to split, now each taking their own corner of the world. Mom and Dad’s show chose a valley deep in the hills of Spain, while Persephone and Kingston remained in New York. Last I checked, they had one in Japan, and another back where Midnight Mayhem started, Romania.
“Ah, well that should be fun.” My smile doesn’t return.
Mom chuckles a little. “I miss you.”
Lilith Patience doesn’t use softness in any setting except when she talks to me. Sometimes I wonder if it’s by guilt, but I remember who my mother is and that she has nothing to feel guilty for.
“I miss you too.”
“There was a reason why I was calling but I’ve forgotten.”
I roll my eyes. “Father not there or something?”
Mom laughs again, only this time it dies out. “He’s out looking at a boat.”
“Oh god…” I shuffle up my chair, once again looking back at myself in the mirror. “And where’s Dad?” I mention my other dad and the one who, biologically speaking, helped create me. The Elite King.
“He should be almost home from visiting Bishop.” The mention of Dad being on this side of the world and not seeing him pulls at something deep in my chest. Mom must sense it because she sighs. “You know if he could, he would.”
I swallow but it feels like sand. “I know.”
“Okay, I better go. I’ve got to hunt down limes for our margaritas.”
“Okay, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you too, honey. Text your papas. They miss you too.”
“I will.” Ending the call, I toss my phone over the vanity as the ringleader introduces the next set.
It isn’t unpleasant to be here. The atmosphere merely reminds me of everything I’ve denied myself over the years. The risk itself is worth being here, because when the time comes, there is nothing anyone can do to stop him.
The screen of my phone lights up again. Mom probably remembered what she was calling for. My smile falls, the laughter in my throat dying when I read over the words from an unknown number.
Put on a show for me, Madness. Have you missed me?