Nobody ever got good by doing nothing.

(Requested by Anon, who contributed ideas for most of the main characters, plus some ideas for scenes, some of which sadly couldn’t make it into the finished story.)

Valeria blinked. The inside of the crate currently passing as her coffin stared back, with its yellow sticker that marked fragile contents cutting through the dim light. Previously, it'd sat on the outside, but they'd flipped the lid so she'd have something to look at. Lyca's suggestion. Not one of his better ideas, but they couldn't all be winners. 

Val slid the lid off with her fingertips, and escaped in a fine mist into her room where she reformed like a shadow being restored after a flicker of light. She stretched up, her fingertips brushing against the shallow, tented ceiling, her joints cracking like glow-sticks. 

Her room left a lot to be desired these days. As Val stepped carefully around it, reminding her limbs and digits how to move like the living's, she absorbed the ramshackle boudoir that her family had tried their hardest to make cosy in their daylight hours. The drapes were moth-eaten and the rug was full of what Jaya called "schmutz,"- hairs and crumbs and dirt and the like. She had a suspicion one of the lycanthropes had donated it. The cobwebs on the wooden panels that served as walls weren't a problem. The termites were. Val's good coffin, permanently sequestered in a secure storage unit in the city until the infestation was dealt with, seemed awfully far away during these long days in the crate, spent tossing and turning and trying to keep the splinters out of her skin. 

But still. Val clicked her fingers and blue smoke broke out their tips like she'd used them to snuff out a match, billowing out first like a ribbon, then a cloud, then a river, winding around her curves, her bare shoulders with the textbook pin holes at the base of the neck, over the voluptuous hips, all the way to the ankles where it trailed off, then  hardened into a purple gown that clung to her as she slid her feet into her heels, pressed her day-hat over her curls, and strode out of her bedroom door. 

Beyond? Chaos. Hell. An utter travesty of a circus, new in town and fatally unprepared with half its acts still hungover from the bickering and fatigue so symptomatic of months on the road, and only two hours until their debut. 

Val stepped into the hall, and was met immediately with a small ocean of knee-high clowns that was crowding the tented hallway. She towered over row upon row of the pint-sized performers, each one wearing the same baggy trousers, wide-collared shirts, harlequin makeup, and the exact same expression, that being of absolute dread. 

"Gentlemen," said Val, her voice well exercised in careful diplomacy. "to what do I owe the pleasure on this fine morning?"

"Out," rumbled Iggy, their spokesman. Almost identical to his two scores of brothers, Iggy was notable for his open collar, which constantly displayed the deep scarring on his chest. This too was identical to the others, who kept theirs hidden. "Oleg's at it again."

"Oh my," Val pressed her fingertips to her forehead, pretending to nurse a migraine. "what's our lead harlequin done now?" She didn't have to guess. But who knew, maybe this time-

"Your senior clown has eaten another..." Iggy began and trailed off, the haughtiness that'd overcome his fear now subsiding as his brothers paled in unison. He beckoned Val to bend over. She bent, inhaling their collective smog of cologne and cigarette smoke. "another unattended."

Oh well. Maybe one day he'd surprise her. "Ugh," Val swept her hand back over her forehead, watching for the nods of approval from within the small crowd that'd amassed around her. "my stars. Don't worry, my faithful clowns. I'll see Oleg remanded for this," she straightened Iggy's bow tie for him, grazing a finger against the stark-white flesh beneath his collar, and those scars that so closely resembled letters. "I give you my word. Oleg has taken this too far. He'll be dealt with swiftly and without prejudice."

It wasn't that she'd be doing nothing. But that Iggy was more placatable than he let on. Which is why he didn't quite protest as she stepped over him, and headed down the hall. If she kept moving fast enough, by the time he caught up with her she might just have figured out how to keep him and his entourage around. She snapped her fingers again as she walked and pulled a thin purple thread out of nothing, which thickened into a long cigarette holder. She plucked a cigarette out from behind her ear and slotted it into the end, snapped again to light it, and took a long drag. She should already tell it would be a long day. 

The physical body of the circus was that of an octopus; the Big Top where they entertained guests was at the very centre, with its tented tendrils curling all over the rented field it was occupying, each limb branching into rooms for sleeping, eating, feeding, casting, summoning, sinning, and generally sharpening one's skills. It was a nightmare to put the whole thing up, she was told. 

Between Val's room and the Big Top there was just one other space- the mess hall, where all the acts came to share space, relax, and enjoy one another's company. In theory. If the mood of the circus could be emblemized in one location, it was here. And perhaps symbolically, it was empty and showed signs of recent chaos; the four long benches were overturned, bowls of stew spattered all over them, the ground, and the purple-pinstriped tenting that enclosed them. The table from which Kook, (the circus' former magician,) usually dished out whatever he could remember the recipe for, was split in two, the vat upturned and a waterfall of what resembled mutton making its slow, congealed journey to the floor. On the other side of the table, Kook was was trembling on the floor, hands raised above his head like he was deflecting projectiles. He'd disappeared into his own top hat a while back, was gone for a whole year, and didn't come out quite the same. He started at the sound of Val's voice, looking around like he didn't recognise where he was. 

"What's gone on, Mr Kook?" she asked. 

He blinked up at her, eyes bloodshot. "Oh, this? 'Tis strange, isn't it ma'am?" he looked furtively around, as if waking suddenly from a nightmare. "I can't rightly say I know. I-It's rather fuzzy, ma'am."

Val crouched beside him. "I see. Do you remember anything at all?" he hadn't been drinking- at least, Val couldn't smell it on him. Sadly. If he'd been the culprit this whole thing could've been over then and there. 

The magician's forehead creased with effort, the dark circles under his eyes deepening as a sigh escaped his gritted teeth. "I, well. I was here, dishing up as you do. Those Cat Creatures were griping about the food, though that's nothing new. Probably on the prowl for a fight, cos' Jaya and Eucaria made an e-exit when they came in- or was it just Eucaria? Could've just been her, though I'm sure Jaya left too-"

"Kook," said Val in her least impatient voice. "Please, try to focus on what happened in here."  

"S-sorry sir-Ma'am, I mean, Mrs Ma'am, Ms Ma'am Sir," he paused for a moment to collect himself. You could see the colour leave his face, draining out as if a valve had opened. "I think it all went funny when the Lycanthropes arrived. Yeah, I remember a lot of growling, lots of smashing. And gnashing. Then something hit my head, and t-then," he gestured loosely at the sky. "Fairies. But that's nothing new. They always show up after a disaster."

"Shit," hissed Val. "I thought all the shapeshifters had reached an understanding? Tonight's act has been months in the mati- making...I don't suppose you know what caused it?"

Kook shrugged. "Who knows with them. They're more beast than human on most days, aren't they? Giving me dirty looks, sharpenin' their claws on the furniture, leaving rabbit pelts all over the place. Filthy werewolves, were-cats, all of them," a frantic look overcame his eyes.

"Kook," snapped Val. "Enough. We don't speak of others in that way in my Circus. Do you know where they went?"

"Big Top," said Kook, suddenly sullen. "they're saying the act's off- all the couples have broken off too; Vinnie and Trisha, Ellie and Claire, even the two Johnny's. Saying they'll never perform together again."

Val stood up and adjusted her hat. "I'll be the one to make that assessment." She left Kook to his mumbling. The short walk between the mess hall and the Big Top was enough to send tonight's trajectory from bad to worse; long tears split the tent on both sides and above. Scraps of fur, some sleek, some shaggy, gathered in clumps among the grass underfoot, and as Val broke through the curtained doorway into the Big Top, a cacophony of yowls and howls pierced her eardrums. The wide circle of bleachers bordering the room served as the colosseum for the latest pandemonium, as two gangs of leather clad teenage heartthrobs, one half rough and ragged, the other sharp and deadly, stared each other down in the loudest way possible, jeering and spitting and hissing and growling and  holding each other back. The groups were about fifteen people strong apiece, and at the forefront of each, foreheads practically glued together, were two boys. Well, men. But everyone was a child when you had a couple of centuries under your belt. 

"You housecats aren't going anywhere till you tell me who went after Tycho," snarled  the shorter of the two, the leader of the scruffy lot who more than fit the model himself. Dark haired and what the young people would call 'dreamy,' his face was contorted with rage as he shouted, "you pussies want to pick a fight? I'm right here! Why fight a kid when you can face the whole pack? All you gotta do it tell me who did it!"

The other leader, a broad lion of a man maned with immaculately combed hair, rumbled back, "I don't respond to violence, or threats. You should know that by now, Lyca. Yourself and these mongrels should get out of here while you've still got some dignity left." 

"Then it's off," snapped Lyca. He pulled back and shook his head. "You can kiss the whole act goodbye. Nobody wants to see a bunch'a stuck up lions do ballet for an hour. You've got no skill, no perseverance, all you've got is your goddamn pride," he spat the word like it tasted foul, eyeing the rest of the Cat Creatures. He gestured at his grumbling posse " Come on, everyone. Lee the Lionheart can't even squeeze and apology out of his little harem. We've got better things to do than watch that travesty try to carry out a routine." Though he was less than half Lee's size, his effortless beauty and powerful voice made him quite the formidable leader. It was like watching a Jack Russell face off with a Great Dane. 

"Typical werewolf," said a woman at Lee's side. "time wasters. No patience. Full of bravado. It's not like we even needed you anyway, Lee's the one with all the ideas, you people are just hired muscle. In fact," she chuckled. "I'm pretty sure breaking it off is the only original idea you've had yet," some of the other Cat Creatures heckled their agreement. Lee nodded. 

"Fuck you," said Lyca. The rest of the pack echoed the sentiment. 

"Ahem," Val's voice  was like a shock wave. The tension snapped at once as they all turned on their heels to attention. Pack mentality. One of the rare pluses of employing shapeshifters. "Am I to understand that there's been a falling out?" Sometimes, Valeria wished she could just get to the point. But, that was unbecoming. 'Take your time when you speak,' her mother had once told her, 'too fast, and people will think you're trying to sell them something.'

"The Cat Creatures went too far this time, Ma'am," said Lyca, desperate to get the first word in. "they went after Tycho, they smashed his face in and robbed him. A kid, ma'am. They called him- what was it, Tycho?"he called over his shoulder. 

A thin boy of about eighteen stepped forward. His crimson nose wore his double-black eyes as a pair of wings, a butterfly of bruises resting on his face. He stared at his feet as he spoke, not really addressing anyone. "A leg-humpin' bitch. A mongrel. They said they were gonna neuter me, said they'd bury my..." He was turning crimson. Val averted her eyes, feeling her stomach growl. "my nuts in the woods, feed 'em to Oleg."

That damn clown again. "I see. And what was this about stolen property?"

"We didn't steal-" began one of the Cat Creatures- one of the two Johnny's so recently divorced. She quieted him with a look. Her nerves were getting twitchier by the minute, her cigarette burning closer to her skin.

"A jacket, three CD's, and a bat," said Lyca. "Personal items that they have no reason to take except to screw with him. And look at Tycho's nose. If he were human they could've killed him!"

"Please, Lyca," said Val, raising a palm. "be patient. Tell me Lee, you refute these claims?"

The Lionheart spoke slow and patient, but didn't take his eyes off Lyca. "You can't prove it was my people. There were no witnesses. I've asked everyone. I have no other evidence than the boy's word- and we all know that he and Sheila ended things recently. He has every motivation for wanting to start a war,``he cracked his knuckles. Val knew him well enough to understand his temper, but still. Next to everyone else he was a behemoth, a wall of a man who'd knock your bones out before you knew you'd been hit. "I won't be condemning anyone based on his testimony."

"I'm not lying!" yelled Tycho, his voice breaking. "look at my face, who the hell would do this except you?"

"Please!" yelled Val, bringing them back in line. "These accusations are disturbing. And I want everyone here to understand that as of tomorrow, I'll be aiding these two in finding out precisely what has happened, and putting an end to this childishness" she panned her gaze across the two crowds, watching for anxious faces. More than a few on each side couldn't hold it. Lyca and Lee were both getting a little red as well. "You two. I'll be speaking to you separately. I hope you all understand the severity of attacking another member of this troupe, or indeed lying in order to instigate it. However, we have a show to run, and precious little time to be at each other's throats. So in the meantime, tell me, couldn't the Cats simply reimburse the Wolves for-" she felt a tugging at her dress. It was about time. She looked down. 

"Ma'am," squeaked Iggy. The clowns in his congregation nodded politely.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"I thought you'd be Eucaria. What is it that you need, sir?"

He frowned. "To be released from our contract. As we attempted to discuss this morning-" a loud clap broke the silence behind Val. Followed by a brief pause, bated breath, then a crescendo of thumping and yelling and hissing as the wolves and the cats started on each other. "Is now a good time?" asked Iggy, eyes widening at the discord behind her. 

It was not. And where on earth was Eucaria? Val scanned the circular room; people were coming in and out, sitting in little pockets watching the drama unfold, or conferring, or practising, or watching from the bleachers. Her daughter and second in command rarely failed to gravitate towards trouble, and Val had the feeling her input would be needed. "Excuse me," she said, once again stepping over the clowns. She counted back the hours since she'd last seen her daughter, then lost count as she bumped into Jaya, the Siren slash high-dive expert. A slip of a woman, only five feet tall, and always a little flushed. 

"Hiya Val," she smiled, before attempting to move on. 

Val very nearly let her go, before closing a vice-grip around her wrist as she remembered what Kook had said. "you haven't seen Euci, have you?" Val paused, remembered herself, released Jaya's arm, and cleared her throat. "S-sorry. She's rather late to the action this morning. Kook said he saw you with her?" 

"Hm. I saw her at dinner a few hours ago, I think," smiled Jaya. She was sometimes a little slow to recognise people's expressions. And too often she was too off in her own head to realise when a crisis was going on. "But then the Cat Creatures started getting pissy with each other and we left. They made us both pretty uncomfortable.  I Haven't seen her since," her eyes widened as the proverbial penny dropped. "Is everything ok?"

"Oh it's fine, I'm sure she's around somewhere," lied Val. "But I don't suppose I could ask Jacques?" the siren's boyfriend. He was more observant than her, though less than half as social. 

"Sure thing," Jaya opened her mouth, her lips stretching wider, her jaw clicking as it parted and opened into a hole as big as a dinner plate. Inside, her oesophagus was just as wide, smelling faintly of salt water, and far, far down inside, Val could see Jacques, curled up with a book in the pit of her empty stomach. He removed his glasses, looked up, and waved. 

"Evening ma'am," he said. His voice met Val's ears in what could only be described as a wet echo. "what's up?"

"Good evening Jacques," Val called back down. "Have you seen or heard of Eucaria recently? She's absent."

"'Fraid not," he called back. "I haven't heard her, anyway. Is everything ok?"

"Yes, thank you. See you at tonight's performance," Val closed Jaya's mouth quickly, just in case he had more bad news for her. "T-thank you, Jaya," she said, before pulling away and rushing into one of the nearby hallways, this one arterial to the rooms. Inside, streams of fairy lights sputtered and blinked in crossroads between the rooms, winking off and on again as Val passed under them. She was getting dizzy. She braced herself against the wall for a moment, waiting for it to pass. 

"You ok?" 

Val jumped. She looked around. Then down. Muriel's broad hat lifted for her eyes to blink back, the dark circles under them giving the constant impression that she was tired of everyone's shenanigans.

"Not quite," said Val. Her hand reached down to pat Muriel on the head and landed on her own knee, a mite colder than before. Muriel didn't point out the obvious- people had been trying to pat that little noggin for decades. Ghosts were, as it turns out, surprisingly hesitant to remind you they were dead. "Have you seen Euci?" No sense in putting on a show. Muriel had more years behind that tiny face than even you'd expect, though she possessed size, features, and appropriate cuteness to a seven year old. 

"She's probably with Ole-Spiderlegs," said Muriel. "She was having a meltdown this evening and wouldn't let anyone see her. If you're going in there,  I suggest telling her she's pretty. And a treasure to the troupe. And young, don't forget young," she counted off the necessary interactions on her fingers and rolled her eyes. Eternal rest was clearly nothing of the sort. 

"Thank you," said Val, feeling the strength return to her bones. "Are you ready for tonight?"

"Almost. I need to attune my wand and burn some sage to purify the ring, plus I need to summon a spirit. Not a strong one, just an assistant. . But you're not really listening. Dispense with the niceties and go find your daughter before you pass out, you sentimental bat."

"What did you just say?" Val blinked and Muriel was gone. "Darnit."

Eucaria didn't look up as Val entered the dressing room, ducking under a low-hanging stream of fairy lights that buzzed as she passed. The perpetual haze of smoke that encompassed her daughter's face simply muttered, "Tell her she's pretty." Nevertheless, Val still groped through the smog until her hands alighted on Euci's too-soft face. Just to make sure.

"Tiffany, my love, you're a vision," said Val, turning to look over her shoulder to speak to the older woman who was peering over the top of an ornamental screen. Behind it the gymnast's silhouette narrowed to a waspy waist, then expanded into a bulbous shadow from which eight legs protruded, each one busying itself with some unseen task below decks. "I should know. I've been performing for over a century and I haven't seen a treasure such as you. And no-one who didn't doubt themselves at one time or another, I might add." Val pulled a well-earned cigarette from thin air and pressed the tip against the end of Euci's cigar, then inhaled deeply. 

The woman peering over the screen was indeed beautiful. In her day, she was even breathtaking. But after a few decades of better healthcare and more diverse breeding, today's beauties were beginning to surpass even hers, fluoride toothpaste and moisturiser landing them a few rungs higher on that ladder. And Ole' Spiderlegs, IE Tiffany, wasn't the sharpest when it came to books, but she knew beauty and lack thereof like the back of her hand. 

"Don't say things just because," she quothed. In addition to her legs, she had a pair of normal human arms on her torso, one of which she used to tuck a scarlet lock of hair behind her ear while using the other to massage her forehead.  "I'm not feeling it today. Not at all," behind the screen, a spidery leg passed a garment into one of her hands, and she lobbed it over the top and onto the pandemonium that covered the floor. Clothes, empty bottles of hairspray, distressed makeup brushes, and more than a few dead flies. It wasn't any wonder nobody else used this room. "why am I still doing this? Flaunting myself in front of lookie-loos while my youth drains out of me like a submarine losing oxygen?"

"Thinking of unfreezing that egg sack again?" asked Val. "You were quite set on it last week."

"And two months before that," added Euci, her cloud of smoke sparking as she took another drag on her cigar. "maybe you should do it now?"

Tiffany sighed. "A little magnum opus, yes. Scuttering all over the lace, little balls of life, then, suddenly, away on the wind on a little stream of silk, scattered all over the earth. But still, you know they're out there. Part of you. Like one big web encompassing the world."

"It sounds positively nightmarish, dear," said Val. "and by all means, tomorrow we can discuss the affair in detail. But we have a show to do. And without our gymnast, it wouldn't be much of one. We've," she cleared her throat. "We've already lost the shapeshifter act."

"Shit," cussed Eucaria. "I knew something was wrong this morning. The Cat Creatures were all on edge. They were all bunched together in the mess hall, being all rotten with everyone. I should've seen this coming. Have you heard, mother?"

"Heard what, my love?"

"Lee and Lyca broke up. It happened last night, not sure exactly when, but it wasn't pretty. Lyca was getting jealous again, I think."

"I thought that might be the case," sighed Val. "that recent wolf, Tycho, has already had his face caved in for his leader's sake. Doubtless the Cat Creatures went for him to get under Lyca's skin. You see, Tiffany?" She pointed her attention back at the gymnast, who'd stopped to listen to the gossip, and now busied herself behind the screen. "We're in chaos. Without you, there is no show left to perform."

"I'm too old," insisted Spiderlegs, popping her head up. Her silhouette shrugged. "what's the use? It's not like anyone here's ever going to make the big time. We're just eye candy- no, eye horseradish, there to test what normal people can stomach to look at. Why not settle down for a few months, maybe even a few years, and raise some little spiders?"

"You know," said Euci, removing her cigar for a moment so she could look at Tiffany properly. "You could do both. Like mother did," Eucaria was all her father's child. From rotting toe to decaying tip, from ruddy nose and round face, to the raggedy dress-shirt she always wore,  she was Earnest. Her undead-ness was one of the few things she'd inherited from her mother. In a way. Albeit, hers was of a different, more zombie-like nature. "Aren't working mothers a thing now? It's not like you perform every day."

Tiffany bit her lip. Val smiled. "Why yes, Euci and I manage that lifestyle very well. Even before Euci's transformation, I nursed a human child in one arm and ran a successful circus with another. Surely you, with eight whole legs, could do the same?"

"Of course I could," said Tiffany. "But, I'm wary..."

"Of?" 

"Nothing. It can wait. I'll discuss it with you after tonight's performance." She ducked down again and sat haughtily on her abdomen. Val felt a crease of anxiety smooth itself out in her head. One of these days, they'd call Tiffany's bluff, and she'd actually go for it. But this profession taught you to take things one day at a time. Val cupped her daughter's face in her hands. It wasn't, by appearance, that much older than Muriel's. But while the latter had many centuries behind it, this one had barely reached its first. The sallow skin, pierced by a pair of sharp blue eyes that could cut glass with their wit, so like her father's. If anything could make Val's dead heart move, it was her. 

"How is everything? Did you meet with the Cuban?" She asked. 

Euci nodded, cigar waggling between her teeth. "Yup. Threw in a box of cigars, too. Hell of a guy. Can only hope his dynamite doesn't taste this good." The girl's childish voice was tinted with the chain-smoker's growl, and in their travels had picked up odds and ends of idioms and turns of phrase that Val could only sometimes understand. 

Val blew a smoke ring toward her daughter, which Euci broke apart with her own exhalation. "Good, good. Come, I need your help; the shapeshifters need sorting out, and Oleg's at it again- oh my," one of Eucaria's ears was sliding down the side of her head. Like a decaying snail exploring her face. It was already nearing her jawline. "your ear, darling."

"It's OK," Eucaria plucked it off, some hair-thin strings of what was still an unidentified goo pulling away with it. Beneath, the flesh was stark white and budded like cauliflower. "Darn thing keeps coming off. Hasn't been the same since Paris. I'm pretty sure there are still bits of me stuck to the Eiffel Tower."

"I don't know how many shows that's got left," mused Val. "Perhaps it's time to retire it?"

Euci sighed and kicked a brassier across the floor, where it dinged mutely against an ornamental vase, ornament ally filled with dead flowers as it had been for days. "Not like we have any spares lying around."

"Hold that thought."

Val wasn't proud of it. Oleg wasn't a colleague as much as he was a liability. She often wondered why she kept him in the act, but for some reason, that particular fire was one of the few that she never got around to putting out. Though it did, from time to time, consume an unaccompanied child. 

"Sure are a lot of bones around here," said Euci, picking a bit of cartilage from between her toes. They surrounded the area like a ring of chalk; the furthest out were bleached white by the sun, while the closest were still bloody and clinging to viscera. They were a good mile away from the circus, on the border of the woods that framed the massive field they'd managed to claim. This was Oleg's agreed distance, maintained all day every day, except for showtime. He'd taken up residence in the hollow of an oak tree, a hole in its base marking the entrance to what in theory should have only been a closet-sized space. That said, Val had never been tempted to see inside. Even with the sun directly above it, those with the courage to come and stare had assured her that no light could penetrate the darkness. 

"Indeed," she said, fiddling with a stray lock of hair that had escaped from her hat. "remember what I said, Euci. Don't look at him for too long."

"Mum," assured Eucaria, "we'll be fine. He wouldn't dare. Not like I'm fresh meat anyway. Plus, it'd be way more trouble than it's worth, plus he's probably still bloated from-" her head snapped to attention, pigtails whipping across her face, face frozen, alert, and trained on the yellow eyes that were cutting through the black pit of the hollow. Nothing else. Just two gold coins with a black slit down the middle. Watching. 

"Oh don't frrrrrett, dear," seethed a voice that pulled the hairs on Val's neck to stand to attention, that made her skin squirm beneath her clothes as if in retreat. The dusk felt duller, dimmer, and smelled of sour meat. "p-plenty of live meat d-d-down here. Wanna seee?" 

"We need an ear," said Val, stepping into the clown's line of sight. "Now. A fresh one."

"D-d-don't mama got better things ta' be doin? I h-hear the menagerie's havin' a domestic. L-little Lyca's L-l-little brother got roughed up by his abominable boyfriend, ay?"

"Mind your own business," piped up Eucaria, stepping around her mother and jutting out her chin. Her sallowness was that much paler, but her voice was even. "And quit eating unattended kids. This isn't the city. People don't just go missing without being noticed, and if they come for us, I'll make sure they come for you."

"We'll allow it this once, given it's convenient," agreed Val, "but once more and you're on your own. Remember America? One more missing child and you'll be back in that recycling plant where we found you. And stop scaring the other performers- it's hard enough to keep a show running without a cannibal on the premises."

"T-t-those clowns whining again?" the air around the hollow swam and the roots of the tree snapped and squealed, writhing beneath the ground in complaint. Oleg's voice rose. "pathetic little sorcerer. With his flesh puppets,  not a friend in the world, so why not be your own? You know, that's why the others-"

"Ear," said Val, raising her voice over his, feeling the breeze billow around her in support. "Now." her hair whipped over her shoulder. The sparks from her cigarette drifted in the air between her face and Oleg's, neither of them breaking their stare. 

"Aright mama V," groaned Oleg. "If only so's I can eat the little dead thing's old one. Howzabout it, cannonball corpse? Or did ya blow it off chewin' on a stick a dynamite?" he looked at Euci. 

Val's spine drew up and her teeth set on edge. Euci flicked her old ear into the hollow. "You'll perform tonight," she said, lowering her tone. "You'll act nice, too. Or I'll let mother down there with you."

"Indeed," Val held the clown's gaze, grinding her teeth. "we'll see what position you're in to make jokes then."

Without another word, the clown's eyes faded into the darkness. A few moments passed, then with a wet thump a disk flopped out of the hollow and landed in front of Eucaria, who turned it over in her hand. "Mostly intact," she said. "prolly from someone a lil older than me. But it'll do fine if we can stitch it good enough, though I guess it's a little pink. Might make it hard to-"

Everything went quiet. Eucaria kept speaking- or, rather, her mouth kept moving. But everything, from the wind in the trees to the churn of traffic from the not distant enough highway, was muted. Then, slowly, from the depths of Val's eardrum, came a ringing. And the sun rose behind them, its light screaming across the grass and overwhelming Val like a shadow disappearing with the lighting of a candle. 

"How?" she gasped voicelessly, dropping to her knees, stunned. Watching it, she saw a yellow ball of fire consume the sky above the Big Top, swirling like a whirlpool, streaks of light fanning out like tantruming arms. The great and horrifying sight that all vampires dreaded, the source of all life that turned against them when they turned undead, stared her down with its divine judgement. 

Something was off. She wasn't dead, for one thing. She hadn't been reduced to lilac ash and scattered in the breeze. She didn't even feel warm, actually. And though it'd been longer than most lifetimes since she'd seen it, she didn't recall the sun smelling quite so much like burning sage. 

The ringing in her ears had reached a kettle-like screech, only now subsiding as Euci helped her to her feet and held her limbs steady as the shock wore off. The ball of light dispersed into evening gloom, and from the Big Top a shock-wave blew out in all directions and hit them with a gale-force wind filled with screaming laughter. Then all was quiet. The highway's gentle purr rose and fell steadily and undisturbed. Looking back at the Big Top, a scorched hole in the roof glared at the sky as if to accuse it. And even from here, you could hear the shrieking of the people inside. 

Val sighed. "Bugger."

Arriving back at the Big Top was like stepping into the eye of a hurricane. For the whole walk back, screams and moans and complaints had echoed over the field, and now, in the middle of their source, Val felt strangely calm. Everything was so spectacularly broken, that there was no sense of urgency. The worst had happened; the middle of the ring was blackened and twinkling like the night with all the glass that'd been shattered when Muriel summoned her spirit, with which she was currently arguing amongst the ruins of her alchemy set. Almost the entire troupe had filed in and around the edges of the ring, keeping a wide perimeter around the discord. The whole place stank of sulphur, and the air above them was dense with flickering lights of every colour that squeaked and nipped in your ears as you walked through them. Fairies. They loved drama. Jaya and Jacques were putting out the still smouldering tent walls, and more than a few of the other performers, while Lyca and Lee were balancing two separate head counts at the same time, trying to make sure nobody had gone missing and be cross with each other at the same time. Tiffany was doing her best to apply first aid to Iggy's swarm of clowns, but she only had so many legs to spare. The resident strongwoman, Bhumika, was lifting shattered furniture out of the way while Ba'al, the lizard-skinned fire eater quicky sucked up whatever stray embers remained. 

"I'll get the ghost," said Euci. "you check the damages," she set off before Val could protest, elbowing her way through the forest of knees to the ring. Valeria looked about her for a wound to heal or fire to douse, but her attention pulled like a magnet back to her daughter as she walked over to Muriel, and the immense spirit above her. She felt that guttural pull, the maternal urge you get when a child falls over or cries out in pain, plucking at her nerves like a harp. But Euci was made of sterner stuff than other children. Which was good, because she certainly wasn't made of harder stuff. 

The spirit above Muriel flourished like a peacock's tail, furl upon furl of ethereal light in all the colours of the spectrum blossoming in a circular fan shape, and floating in the centre was a human body doused in emulsion, such an emaciated figure that its blue-white skin seemed too big for it. It blinked at its audience with eyes as black as a pond at midnight, and smiled toothily. It swam in the air like a jellyfish, undulating its fan as it drifted down to meet Eucaria, and outstretched its hands, clawed with black nails filed to a fine point. Euci declined the embrace with a quick step back, and addressed Muriel. 

"I told you this would happen. The spirits back in your tent are perfectly good, ya know."

"I know," the witch sounded exhausted. She reached out to lean against Euci, then stumbled as she fell through. "Dammit."

Eucaria sighed. "For someone who's already seen death you certainly like to dance with it a lot," she addressed the spirit. "name?"

The spirit tilted its bulbous head and twisted in ways that, while Valeria wasn't sure in her undead state, she was pretty certain most bone structures didn't allow. Its head turned back like an owl's, its elbows inverted. It hissed, baring its needly teeth. "SSSatisssfaction," it beckoned Euci with its nail. "Disssord."

Eucaria held up her hands. "No thanks. Enough of that on a regular day. Name?"

The spirit blinked. Then said in a death rattle, "Vivāda, the-"

"Vivāda, huh?" Euci interrupted. "Need a job?"

The spirit didn't answer. It tilted its head and pulled back, eyes fixed on her. Val felt a little tug. She couldn't stand the thing. If ever she'd felt compelled to crush something between her fingers until its life was eviscerated, this was it. 

"It's just, since you're here," said Eucaria, to the crushing silence that'd fallen over the room. "We didn't mean to get you, see? We wanted...?" She gestured at Muriel. 

The witch removed her hat and scratched the back of her head. "Samedi."

"Right, we wanted Samedi. Not you. But you're here and I don't think my friend," she gestured at Muriel. "has much left in her today. Would be a real shame to let you go to waste, though, so-" Euci didn't finish. The colours in the spirit's fan bled into red, and the edges quivered. The pale thing stretched a long fingernail out to Eucaria's face, close enough to shave the decaying skin from her forehead, while the other hand wafted through Muriel as if trying to clutch at something. Muriel looked mortified; the girl who'd seen death in all its forms, the girl with nothing left to fear, was doubting the validity of those statements for the very first time. Val's stomach was tying itself into a Devil's knot. 

Vivāda's voice cut through the crowd the way a slamming door cuts through a child eavesdropping on their parents' argument. The way gunfire splits the calm of a silent night. The way bad news breaks through the routine of your day, extending it by hours and withering your plans as they fall by the wayside. "You didn't call for dissssscord? For Vivāda, the Defiler?"

Val ran at the ring. She'd been so stupid. Eucaria didn't know a vengeful spirit from her best friend. She'd never seen an angry monster before, only the ones she'd known forever, and those claws weren't real to her, not yet. They wouldn't be, not until they cut her to ribbons. 

Like a child plucking a doll out of its house the spirit swept Euci into the air with its placid hand clasped around her throat, surging upwards and squealing like a kettle while its fan swirled and bubbled and smoked. Val couldn't see her daughter's expression, just her feet dangling limply as the thing pulled her face close to its own, and she felt her insides twist in fear. 

Val collided with a burning wall. For a moment, it was like she'd walked into a beam of sunlight, but when it threw her onto her back in the dirt with the force of a stubborn bull, she guessed otherwise. Lee pulled her to her feet like she weighed nothing and pointed to the powdery line on the floor, then followed its path around the ring. Salt. A ring of protection to keep unholy things coming in or out. A rule that applied to about forty percent of the circus. Including herself. 

She looked on helplessly as Vivāda spiked her daughter, threw her to the floor like a damsel smashing a vase. Euci's bones applauded as she made contact, a cacophony of cracks and grinds as she skidded along the dirt, leaving one arm in her wake as she finally ground to a halt. Muriel looked at her, aghast. Then up at the spirit. She began to wave her wand so fast it blurred into a grey shimmer in front of her. Sparks and spears and balls of light flew up and encircled the ghost as it languished like a poisoned snake above them, spitting curses upon them in a language that sounded like chewing nails, singing its skin against the invisible barrier around the ring. It twisted one way and a gale blew in through the hole in the roof, driving the spells back to the ground where they crashed and flashed and crescendo-ed around Euci. It twisted the other and a blade of wind flashed in front of Muriel, knocking her wand out of the ring. 

Val couldn't hear her own voice. She only knew she'd said anything when Bhumika , bounded past her and punted the ground at the edge of the ring, salt flying up among clumps of dirt. Then she clasped her hands around her mouth, open and still crying for someone to do something, anything, and ran to Euci's side. 

The thing about your first and only child being undead, is that you have absolutely no idea whether they're properly dead; you can't sense a pulse, or time their breathing, or check for blood loss. You just wait. Next to the mortified ghost of her best friend, who despite her many, many years of seniority on both you and your child, has never been terrific in a crisis. 

"I...I, I thought she'd...be able to..." Muriel waved her hand in front of her face with closed eyes, trying to get her morse code of a sentence out. "you know, uh..." she shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know." She stood up and staggered away to stand beside Lee as he watched, who reached down to pat her head then thought better of it. He kneeled down to speak to her, offering low words of comfort. 

Tiffany's many hands were hard at work over Eucaria; two held her upright, two were picking through the dust to find scraps of her right arm, which for the sake of hysteria was currently protected from view by the next two that were holding up a sheet between it and Val. The last two were tidying Euci's face. Pulling hair out of the way, checking her position, tidying her up. Tiffany had seen a lot in her time, they'd been told. Enough to know how to...adjust a person for whom the worst might be on its way. She was a firm believer that if death were to come for you, the last thing you'd want is to look like a mess. 

Val slapped the leg currently fixing Euci's hair. "Stop it." Tiff didn't ask. She took her hands away and busied them in her useless first aid box. What could that do? Val scowled at it. "What can that thing do for her?" she felt like a cherry about to be crushed between a set of teeth. Set to burst. 

"Be patient," said Ba'al, who'd come over to help in what little way he could. He was only about two feet tall, with spiralling red horns protruding from a crimson forehead. The rest of him, though red, was perfectly normal looking. He knelt beside Euci, pursed his lips, and gently blew a warm breeze over her face. He continued, "remember Mexico? The crazy stuff they let us do there? You gave her those cigars, the real thick ones that smelled of chocolate? We didn't think she'd ever wake up."

"The cigars didn't hurl her around like a doll,"

"No," mumbled Euci. "But you do, like, every week."  While she didn't exactly spring up, the voice alone soothed every tense nerve in Val's body. Her daughter's eyes blinked open, and she moved her shoulders as if to push herself up, then stopped, and nodded up at Tiffany. "Cheers Tiff."

Spiderlegs stroked her cheek with her thumb. "No problem."

Val bent down and kissed her on the forehead, then rested her own against it. "One of these days you'll have to stop doing that to me."

"No deal. Did you cry?"

"Yes, my love."

"Was it ugly?"

"Yes."

"Great. Also, in other news, my right arm is...everywhere, right now? I feel like there are parts of me all over the place."

Muriel reappeared by Euci's side and fell to her knees. The brim of her hat hid most of the feelings shared, but her voice was mournful. "I'm so sorry, Euci. I should have just used one of my old spirits. I didn't even need Samedi. Now look at you, look what that thing's done-" she paused mid soliloquy. "Wait. Where...where is it?"

They all looked around. "I mean, don't ask me," said Euci. "I was taking a dirt nap."

Lee's shadow encompassed all four of them. "It escaped through that hole in the ceiling," he boomed. "as soon as the circle was broken."

"Did you see where it went?" asked Ba'al, suddenly alert.

Lee shook his head. "But I believe it's still here. Lyca's pack say they can hear its voice nearby, on the grounds. But they're struggling to pinpoint where, I'm afraid- excuse me," he parted from them as one of his posse drew him away by the arm, to where a flustered Lyca was still trying to figure out who was accounted for.

"I'll deal with it,"Val chucked Eucaria under the chin. "Are you alright darling?"

"As alright as you'd expect," reassured Euci. 

"Then, forgive me, but I must see someone about an unwelcome guest. Do me a favour, Tiffany, and give her a...assist her in getting everyone patched up, will you?" 

"Of course."

They all got to their feet. Needless to say, a small crowd had gathered. "Right!" yelled Euci at the top of her lungs. "I need all the injured over here, plus you, Ba'al. Everyone else, help clean up the glass. And you two!" she pointed at Lyca and Lee, who within moments had managed to distract one another with furious whispers. "Mother needs a word."

Val took a breath as they approached, already red faced and staring at their feet. She let it out in seeps at first, alleviating the pressure of her temper word by word. "I'll make this brief," she said, recalling Euci's plan of attack she'd outlined not ten minutes ago on their walk back from Oleg's. "You promised me an act. I expect you to deliver one."

"But ma'am, he-" began Lee. 

"I don't care," she said. The Lionheart blinked. "Pardon my curtness, but I refuse to entertain this in-fighting any longer. Boys," she softened her tone. Counted to ten. "Love has its ins and outs. Fall apart if you must, but do you really want to take us with you? Your friends? The whole circus?" she gestured around. Ba'al chose that moment to leap back in surprise as a small fire erupted from a pile of charred furniture, quickly doused with a slough of water from Jaya that flooded the ground under the bleachers. "We're already in disarray. Don't make it a disaster."

"But Val," implored Lyca. "I can't let them get away with hurting Tycho. I just can't. He's just a kid."

"My love," Val cupped her hand around his cheek, resting her other on Lee's forearm, "tomorrow morning I'll do everything I can to find out what happened. But if we don't salvage something," she cleared her throat. "he'll be homeless. And you," she wagged a finger in front of Lee, warranting a smile that was quickly suppressed. "your pride won't mean much out on the streets, will it? Please boys. For me. Just pretend to love each other for the night, and tomorrow you can hate each other to your heart's content." She pulled away before they could protest, heading to through the entrance into the courtyard.  

The evening was well upon them now. Night air breathed life into Val as she took in the carnage; the ticket stand sequestered by the entrance was demolished, flits of scarlet paper scattered all over the grass, with Boo trapped in the centre, plucking them up with her nails. Madame Zostra's weeping was providing a soft baseline to support the crickets singing in the nearby fields. The grass in the courtyard stank of smoke and incense, and the air above Val's head was positively swarming with fairies. Kook wasn't wrong. They loved a good disaster. Never spoke or helped or interacted with the world beneath them, but with every emotional crescendo or clash, they'd fill the air to feed on the tension, then disappear.

"Having fun, Val?" asked Boo, stepping out of the ticket ring to greet her. "don't suppose you've met the vengeful spirit with the funny name, have you?"

Val laughed, pressing her fingers against her forehead's crowing creases. "So, you've met our guest for the evening. Are you ok?" Within the context of the circus, Boo was quite unique. In that she had two arms, two legs, a head, and a torso with a bunch of wet things stuffed inside that were utterly and incurably human. She bruised easily, was the point. 

"No less than usual," she replied, tying her hair back. It was freshly dyed, dripping violet water onto her collar. Lesser vampires found the living's appropriation of gothic or dusky elements into human fashion offensive. Val just found it pleasantly strange, like seeing a child dressed up as your profession for halloween. "Muriel making new friends in the ethereal plane?" Boo pointed her thumb up at the hole in the Big Top. 

"More like the ninth circle of Dante," chimed in Madame Zostra. She gathered herself from the ground, heaving up her many layers of patchwork dress with great effort, and dried her eyes. Her tented booth, designed to draw in lookie-loos, was knocked onto its side, easily the least permanent issue of the night. "My setup is ruined, Val. My tarot was fully cleansed, ready for the night, now it's trampled into mud. Do you have any idea how much salt I'll need to re-purify..." the hinges on Zostra's jaw squeaked as she spoke, and one of her eyes was pointing in the wrong direction. She was quite literally falling apart and had been for some time. Val made a note to find a new vessel for the fortune teller's spirit- this mannequin was on its last legs. Really, it was; they only had so many spares. 

Val raised a palm, smiling as kindly as she could. "Zoe. Too much. Too much has happened in one day, my darling, for me to do anything about this. Oleg has eaten someone, the clowns are striking thanks to him, the shapeshifters are at war, Kook is back on his bigotry, Tiff's having her fourth confidence crisis this month, we have a spirit of discord on the loose, and my daughter's just been used to score a touchdown. Plus, this," she gestured about her. "So please understand. I wouldn't ask this of you if it weren't imperative. Use the ball."

If Zostra's nose could have wrinkled. "I told you not to open the show today. I told you it wasn't in the cards. Now look where it's landed us," she shook her head at the sky. "and that ball? It's defective. It predicts the future, but not the right one. Tell me," she turned to Boo. "Have you an aunt Phyllis?"

Boo shook her head. "Nope. My parents were only children."

"Well, if you'd had one, today she'd have fallen down some stairs and injured her hip. You'd have gone to care for her, and become close enough for her to show you her antique plate collection. She'd have become a great confidant for you."

"Uh, cool? Thanks?" Boo looked desperately at Val. "So it shows you stuff that isn't true?"

"Oh, it's true," said Zoe, "It's reality. Just not this one. So it's useless."

"Zoe," Val snapped. "We don't have time for this. We need to find that creature before it-"

"It's with Eris," said Zoe, turning on her heel in a huff. "Seeing as how you care so much about everything but me. Flitted off to her like a moth to one of those neon lights they have outside brothels. I'd think you'd be glad it didn't kill me, but there you go."

"Zoe-" began Boo.

"No! Off you go, go and find your precious monster. I'll just be here, wilting in the ruins of my livelihood, my spirit's sole purpose on this mortal plain. Go and plug the holes in the leaking bucket that, I, Zostra, told you long before was structurally unsound!" She was rather surprised when she turned around and found that they'd done exactly that. 

Jaya, Boo, Bhumika, and Val, observed the trailer from a distance. Well, it was really an abandoned camper van that'd been left in the field, unmentioned at the time it was rented. Ba'al had been the first to claim it, but the distance from the rest of the circus, while a small sigh of relief for everyone else, had weighed on the firedancer, so Eris had inherited it. 

A circus is just organised chaos. A dance of the unknown that pushes reality's boundaries with soft lighting and a warm smile to put you at ease while you marvel at the hidden peculiarities of the world. As such, the goddess of chaos had found a home with Val's troupe. She was less of an act than a resource. She choreographed the presentation itself; She timetabled the acts in such a way as to amaze but not unnerve. She fixed the lights to strike the right balance between a comfortable dim, and pressing darkness. She picked the songs, the colours, she designed the outfits, she laid out the beautiful chaos of her mind onto a board on a wall inside that caravan, and at the end of each show, she and Val would share a bottle of wine and tear it down in preparation for the next one. The circus spun like an ornate merry-go-round with her manning the controls. She breathed life into it. 

And she never left her trailer. 

"Must be pretty cramped in there with that thing," said Boo. "Think it's really in there? Looks pretty normal."

"You know Eris," said Bhumika. "doesn't like to make a fuss. For all we know she's sketching the damn thing." She furrowed her perfectly plucked brow. "Maybe we should leave her to it?"

Without answering, Val strode across the mud and rapped on the door. The trailer had been spruced up, draped with rainbow flags and fairy lights and painted a galactic purple, but they could never shift the smell of damp, or the rust that clustered around the door handle, that now dusted the marblesque skin of Val's fist. There was no answer. 

"Eris?" called Boo. "You ok?"

Still no answer. 

Val knocked again. "My love, it's nearly showtime. I hope you haven't forgotten our tradition?" She paused, chewing on the sickly sweetness of her words, then kissed her teeth and allowed herself to speak frankly. "Eris. Come out. Please. We know the things in there, and by God if I don't win against something today I might ship myself back to Paris while I still have what's left of my pride."

Still nothing. What little was left of Val's deceased heart stung a touch. 

Jaya pulled herself out of her perpetual daydream and frowned at the door. "How mean. How busy could she be not to answer that?" 

Bhumika cracked her knuckles and patted Val's shoulder, almost tilting her over. "No worries, ma'am. I can break it open."

Val focused her eyes on the door, took a break, and flicked her wrist. "Please," she said as it swung open. "We may be monsters, but we're not police."

It was always dusk inside that trailer, even in the middle of the night. Amber light glowed from sealed jars that sat growing dust on every surface. Val climbed the steps and ducked inside, Jaya, Boo, and Bhumika squeezing in behind her. 

"I'm handling it," said Eris hurriedly. She was reclining on her sofa with a glass of wine in her hand, tangled red hair unravelled all over the place, comfy. But tense enough that her glass was whining against the pressure of her grasp, threatening to shatter. She was sizing up an orb of furious red and black static that was suspended between herself and Val at head height, sweat beginning to drip from her forehead. Like she was undertaking some invisible but strenuous task. 

The interior of the trailer was full of throws and incense, with cluttered shelves and those innumerable jars, each one containing a fairy. And right now it felt like it was a reflection in a pond during a storm; it rippled furiously, each ray of light fractured and refracted and split into three after images, as if the real world was struggling to hold itself together. Val's ears, ever sensitive to these sounds no other person could hear, were full of the euphoric cries of each fairy, as they fed gratefully on the mania. 

"I always wondered," said Jaya, forever absent. "does she capture these things? Or control them?" the ball of static hissed, and one of the jars on the shelf beside Jaya's head winked out. "yikes. What the hell is that thing? Is that the spirit? Why does it look that way?"

Val nodded. "It's probably conserving energy until it gets its bearings. These things are weaker when they've just been summoned."

"It's an intruder, is what it is," said Eris. "little ball of hate that's screwed itself into an even littler ball of hate, thinking it can hide out here. The nerve," she sipped her wine. 

"Are you alright, darling?" asked Val, steeling herself against the ball's oppressive arua, which threatened to crush her into the ground and bury her among the other fossils. 

Eris nodded. Then said, "No. Actually, no. I was drinking to our success, when this unwelcome guest oozes through the window and throws a spanner in my chaos. Threatens to undermine my vision. Keeps demanding satisfaction," she gestured at the thing, a sour expression twisting her face. The ball hissed. "Yeah, yeah. Bite me."

"You can understand it?" asked Boo. 

"Chaos is its own language, dear," said Eris, standing up gingerly. The ball sputtered at her as she reached its height, and she grimaced. "Though this one only speaks in slurs."

"Muriel's summon went south," said Boo. "This is the result. it's already destroyed half the circus."

Eris shrugged. "Material things. They can be replaced. What about the children?"

"All intact," said Bhumika. "a bit singed." Eris said 'children' the way some old women referred to themselves as 'auntie.' Blood had nothing to do with it. They were her children because she'd decided so. 

"She must have come here for you," said Val, anxious of the time ticking down, and the rising sensation that she was standing on a sinking dinghy. "You're the most powerful chaotic force around here. If you can speak to it in this form, we might be able to coerce it back to where it came from,"

Eris shook her head. "It can't do much in this form other than float around and make garbled threats. It can barely even see, or hear. If we're going to try to talk to it we need to get it outside where it can unfold. And anyway, I'm curious as to what this rude thing really looks like."

"You ever see a pensioner who's been in the bath too long?" asked Boo. "Like, with a big-ass pinwheel behind it?"

"Focus," said Val. "Let me think. We can't keep it here, not for long anyway. It'll move on eventually and when it does it'll bring what's left of the circus down with it. I need it gone within the hour, or at least contained. That shouldn't be too difficult. But how to keep it in one place long enough without it..." She stamped a heel and kissed her teeth. "Well. Not an option I wanted to explore just yet, but we could-" the ball of static took this moment to slam against the ceiling. The sound alone made everyone's skin leap off, but the force of the collision pulled the trailer into the air a few inches, and everything else in the room flew into the air and smashed back down in a cacophony of fracturing glass and screaming fairies. The lights flickered on and off, Boo and Jaya fell on top of each other, and Eris' wine escaped over the couch. 

The ball whined. Like a squealing mosquito. 

"It's laughing at us,"

"I gathered," Val straightened her hat and pulled her cigarette holder out of thin air, lighting the end with a snap of her fingers. She took a long drag and exhaled over Vivāda's pissy spirit. "I have an idea."

"You don't sound terribly enthused," said Bhumika, lifting Jaya and Boo to their feet, one in each arm. 

"I'm not."

Outside the trailer was pitch black. Alone with Vivāda and Eris, Val felt the weight of the night beginning to flatten her. It'd been doing its best all evening, but it was finally securing its victory over her mood. She couldn't tell what time it was outside. Too late, probably. All she was doing now was damage control. 

"Ready?" asked Eris. She was towering at her full six feet beside Val, hair tied back loosely, her long dressing gown still spattered in wine. 

Val shrugged, then rested her head against Eris' shoulder for a moment. "No."

Eris patted her head. "All over soon. Then we can just go to bed and forget the whole evening."

"Forget. Chance would be a fine thing," she pulled away and stood up straight. "Let's get this done with."

Eris addressed Vivāda, who was hovering at the floor among the wreckage it'd caused earlier. "We wish to parlay with you. Would you like to step outside with us for a moment?" she opened the trailer door. "Come." When the ball didn't move, Eris beckoned Val. "Come on. It'll follow."

"Did it say that?"

"No," she said before leaving. Val let her take the lead and followed. The night outside was still and starless. The circus was dim, the road was empty. Like a school after hours, with all the lights shut off and the windows turned black, it felt antithetical to its purpose, inverted, perverse. Val felt her hat pulled from her head and turned on a dime to see Eris placing it gently over her own scarlet hair, patting it down with affectation. She tugged playfully at Val's black curls that now tumbled over her shoulders like the unmanageable ropes they were, all the way to her hips. "chin up young lady," Eris teased, adjusting the hat by its rim. "night's still young."

"Bite me," muttered Val. "how can you be laissez fai-" she broke off. Vivāda's ball had floated out of the trailer and was beginning to run laps around them, whining as it did so. It sped up, whirring closer to Eris then shooting back, then doing the same to Val, circling her head and hurling itself into the air as if to show off, before soaring into the air and slamming against the ground a little way in front of them, where it burst with a flash of light and there was Vivāda, floating before them with its fan in full bloom. 

"Dossssst thou wissssh to parlay?"

"That's what I said," Eris folded her arms and jutted out her chin. "though you hardly deserve such a courtesy after your display earlier. You were not wanted here. We only offer you parlay instead of demise out of respect. Do you understand?"

Vivāda ground the needles of its mouth together. They overlapped and crossed each other, but its voice remained a steady stage whisper. "Feh...you dare ssssspeak sssso freely, demon..." it spat at the ground, where a white glob of viscous began to smoke and bubble. "I do not take dissssresssspect lightly...." the smoke began to grow taller, thinner, harden into a long handle. The bubbles congregated at its head, burst and their residue solidified into a clear blade, a scythe of glass that glowed with inner light. 

Val frowned. "Excuse me!" Vivāda turned with her hand inches away from her weapon. It looked at Val like it hadn't even noticed she was there. Eris had already dug her heels in. Always ready for a fight. She seemed to have forgotten what they were doing this for. "Forgive me, Vivāda. We meant to parlay, not fight. Please, let us talk civilly."

Vivāda didn't answer, but didn't move any closer to her scythe. 

"We have inconvenienced you, have we not? Our witch intended to summon another, but in summoning you, one so powerful, such an asset, she didn't show much gratitude, did she? And," she bit the inside of her cheek. "my daughter's offer was perhaps too improper, yes?"

"Hm," Vivāda hummed throatily for a moment. "yesssss, the dead one, the decaying other...their insssolence could not be tolerateed...sssssuch talk frooom such lowly life..."

Val nodded, grinding her teeth down on her tongue. Swallowing, she said, "I can understand the frustration you must have felt, o great mother of discord," Eris shot her a look. "at being so crudely summoned, and so unfairly treated. Tell me, what service might we provide to our esteemed guests, so that we might part on amicable terms?"

"Kiss ass," uttered Eris. 

"Hothead," Val sniped back. 

Vivāda didn't respond for a moment. It listed in the air, hissing and humming like an engine with asthma as it drifted around. Eris cleared her throat, and Val delivered a quick slap to her arm, her fingers parting the chiffon to chastise the bare skin underneath. "No. We will wait to hear its response. It's just thinking, is all."

Eris was stunned. She rubbed the spot where her robe had torn, then stared at it. "Jesus Val."

Val turned back to Vivāda and nearly dropped to the floor. The spirit was right in front of her, just inches from her face, mouth agape and heaving damp breaths into it. "A decisssion hassss been made...." it drifted back and pointed a spidery finger at Val. "I want you."

"Excuse me?" 

"I will feed on thissss lowly life form, sssso married to order....her ancient life will rejuvenate Vivāda, and leave a  reminder off my power."

Val frowned. "You intend to...devour me?"

"In exchange for peace, and the sssafety of your kindred, yesss,"

"No," said Eris. "you're not eating Val. See what I mean? Why do you think someone like you deserves to take these kinds of-"

Vivāda fan turned black, its  teeth bared, and it grabbed its scythe. "I WILL TEAR THISSSS WORLD TO SSSSSSHREDSSSSS IF I AM NOT SSSSATISSSFIED!"

Val clicked her fingers. Blue smoke broke out from the tips, and  in a moment it solidified into a silver serpent, coiled in her hand with a black grip in the other, attached at the end. She dropped the coil. Like a chain it clanked to the ground, the snake hissing and seething at Vivāda. "When all is said and done, remember that we offered you the chance to leave peacefully."

Vivāda screeched and flew at her, scythe glowing blue as some power built up inside it. Val whipped her snake at the oncoming face, but missed, taking a chunk out of Vivāda's ethereal fan instead. The scythe tore down and missed her throat by a hair, instead cutting her shoulder and leaving a smoking gash in its wake, the lips of the wound already curling up as if with sepsis. Val rolled back, whipping again, this time finding purchase on Vivāda 's calve muscle, where the snake sank its teeth into the pallid skin and undulated. The spirit's leg began to blacken from the wound outwards, and Vivāda roared as it swung the scythe down at Val, this time a fierce yellow flame streaking off of it. She dodged left, but it turned at the last minute and slashed her cheek. 

"OOOOAAAGGH!" Val clutched her face with her free hand, trying not to lose focus. It burned. It bubbled, it stang, it bled down Val's neck and into her collarbone with something sticky. She released Vivāda, leaping back to gather herself while her adversary did the same, holding its leg and howling in pain. They must have looked ridiculous, two old creatures banging their heads together in the middle of nowhere. 

The dirt around Val's feet felt warm, and the stinging on her cheek subsided. Eris crouched beside her, pulling her face close to her own and scanning it like a book. "that's a sunlight burn," she placed two glowing fingertips against Val's forehead, sending her whole face into tingles. "I can't do much but stop it spreading."

"Thank you," said Val, standing up and bringing Eris with her. Vivāda was already recovering, growling as the scythe turned red. "I fear I'm out of practice these days."

"I noticed," said Eris not unkindly. "Either way, you know there's no chance of us killing this thing, right?"

"Naturally."

Aragoth flew in for a second assault. This time, it floated above them and aimed at Eris, scythe flashing through the air and sending down bolts of crimson lightning that cracked the ground where they landed, that being right where Eris had just been standing. She leapt left, once, twice, thrice, four times, and once more as the last bolt landed, then clapped her hands together. The ground around her bare feet rumbled, and from the fresh-made cracks leapt roots that changed midair into clasping hands, grasping for Vivāda's spindly limbs as the spirit flew this way and that, trying to dodge. Val whipped again, this time catching it on the wrist and grounding it. A root got it around the  other, then another on the throat, another on the leg, but it wasn't down just yet. With the groan of a wounded bear Vivāda heaved, pulling the roots out of the ground and sending Eris back a leap, then flinging Val towards her where they landed in a heap. 

Vivāda seethed, its scythe turning black. "THISSSSSS WORLD PERISH, IT WILL FESSSTER AND ROT UNDER THE UNFORGIVING SSSUN, AND ASSS IT DEVOURSSS ITSSEELF, I SHALL WATCH AND SSSUSSSTAIN MYSSSELF ON ITSSS DECAY!" It shot towards the circus, wielding its scythe above its  head as if about to land the killing blow-

As Vivāda was about to pass over Val and Eris, it rebounded, tumbling back and coming to a halt above the caravan, bewildered and scrabbling desperately at its own face. Assured that it wasn't burning, it screeched and went left, then right, then backwards, each time refused exit and flailing back to where it'd been. It fixed her sights on Val, and roared, "YOU DARE TO DECEIVE ME? TO IMPRISSSON ME WITH YOUR FEEBLE MAGICSSSS?"

Val nodded. "Yup."

Vivāda flew at her. Val and Eris leapt apart. Val's whip flew, the snake baring its fangs and driving them full-force into Vivāda throat. Even this didn't stop it; tethered to Val, Vivāda's scythe slashed again and again into her stomach, chest, face, arms, legs. Each wound felt like a nail being driven into the bone, and the sensations seemed to grow, eating up more skin with each second they lived. The snake held fast. Val held onto it with both hands, her heels cutting grooves into the mud as the spirit pulled back, left, right tried to unroot her. 

A flurry of lights spilled into the space between them, where the snake was taught and the two ancient women stared one another down, and suddenly there was no sight between them. Each one was trapped in a stormcloud of winking light, a pink-blue-yellow-white haze, and nothing else. No night, no Eris, no enemy. Val released the snake's grip and rolled backwards to where the air was clear. The fairies were swarming Vivāda's face, hundreds upon hundreds of them, and they were...Val couldn't quite describe the sound, but it was similar to when you cut through a thick piece of beef with a serrated knife. Tearing, she supposed. Lots of tiny tears. 

Eris was incandescent. From the other side of the ring of salt, Val could see her; hair floating upwards, loose clothes billowing with some invisible breeze, eyes too wide to blink. She waved an arm and a torrent of white drops fell from the swarm, smouldering on the grass. She jerked her chin and it moved with her, sending another sheet of white in that direction. Then she snapped her fingers, and just as quickly as they'd appeared, the fairies flew back into the trailer like a swarm of bees returning to their hive. Vivāda was suspended above them, looking like a glowstick someone had pierced; fluorescent white trickled from bitemarks and drizzled onto the grass, and soon the ground was dense with fog. It clutched at itself and drifted away, towards the trailer, backing up with its eyes fixed on Eris, who cracked her knuckles. "Let me remind you. You aren't welcome here."

"I suppose that answers one question," said Val. "they do work for you."

"Chaos isn't an easy resource to come by. They help me do so. Hell, why do you think I work for you?"

Vivāda said nothing. It was backing steadily towards the caravan, panting like its lungs were filled with water, eyes darting between the two of them. Then, about halfway there, it made a break for it, whipping like a flicked handkerchief across the sky, hands scrabbling for the door. 

It rebounded. I tried again. Again. It rebounded. The caravan rose in the air, and took two giant steps back. Then turned around. Bhumika, with her gargantuan arms beneath the thing, set it down and walked around the fray, eyeing up the spirit. "Is that far enough, Boss?" As if to answer her the moon broke from behind the clouds and touched the ring of salt, lighting it up like a ghostly bullseye with the caravan far outside its border. Again, only about forty percent of the circus could be considered "unholy." The rest could come in, out, even create one. Though in the middle of the night Val was sure it'd been no easy task. 

Vivāda roared in anguish and raised its scythe, the blade flashing violet. It pointed it at Eris, and screamed with a voice like a throat full of those needles of hers. "IF I'M TO PERISH HERE THEN YOU SHALL PERISH WITH ME!" 

"Lord, you were right," said Val. "No chance in hell are we killing her,"

Eris nodded, gripping Val's hand and staring down the flash of purple as it broke free from Vivāda scythe and flew at them. "Perhaps we should, as Eucaria says, bounce?"

"Certainly. Jaya!" the pair split and leapt back, the spell hitting the ground between them and erupting into violet gas that smelled like smoking tires, and on the other side of the ring of salt Jaya crossed the threshold, mouth agape. It was a desperate sprint, Val and Eris streaking down opposite sides of the ring to meet at the other end, and before they could reach her a streak of orange flew past and erupted into flames in the grass before Jaya, but she didn't move. Jacques stepped into the ring. At his full height he was only five ten, a bespectacled man with a five- o'clock shadow most times of the day. But when he spoke, with backwards words in a language nobody else understood, and the ground became slick with ankle-deep water, the earth seemed to shake with the weight of his speech. A second orange bolt came, and bounced off Jaya in a cloud of steam, leaving a rainbow in the air in front of her. She noticed it, and smiled-

Right as Eris was making the leap into her mouth. She got in-just, bringing a couple of incisors with her. Followed by Val, who tried her best to be gentle. The fall through the esophagus wasn't as damp as you'd expect, but it was certainly...ribbed. Unpleasantly so. Eris and Val were crushed against each other like they were going down a slide at the same time, and reached the pit of the stomach (overall spacious, with a small writing desk and a pile of books in the corner) almost as soon as they were hurled violently out again, and tumbled, as Boo sometimes said, "arse over tit" onto the grass. 

They were on the other side of the ring of salt. Inside, Vivāda was staying quite still. It hovered a metre above the ground, the grass still smoking white at its ankles. It dropped the scythe and before it hit the dirt it'd dispersed into bubbles. Everyone was so quiet you could hear them popping. 

Val was the first to say something. "You'll go back where you came from. You'll go quietly, and without resisting. You will stay where you came from and you won't think of us again until you're less than memory. Until the last remnant of your history has been crushed into the earth with the fossils and bones of people yet to come. Do you understand?"

Vivāda floated close to the ring's boundary and placed the two white spiders of its hands near the invisible wall with the tips just barely grazing it. They burst like matchsticks into smoke and sparks, but didn't move. "AND IF I REFUSSSE?" it tilted its head. 

"You'll spend the rest of time right there," said Eris. "Under every charm, every hex, every spell there is and will be invented from now until the end of time, that can be used to keep you here, and hidden."

Vivāda laughed. "YOUR FAITH IN HUMAN RESSSTRAINT IS ALMOSSST ADMIRABLE...HUMANS WILL FREE ME...THEY ALWAYSSS DO...THEY ARE THE BREATH THAT FILLSSS THE LUNGSSS OF DISCORD..."

"Come off it," said a small but certain voice. The congregation turned, and there was Muriel, glowing in the light of the trapped spirit, wand in hand. Euci was beside her with her arm in a sling, looking peaky but intact.  "I watched that clown of ours eat seventeen people in as many months in Paris and nobody as much as batted an eyelid. Euci's still got bits of her left on the Eiffel tower, but she made it through airport security all the same. People can ignore anything unless they benefit from not doing so," she approached the ring and pointed her want up at Vivāda. "tell me. Do you benefit anyone?"

"I AM THE GOD OF CHA-" 

"Chaos is over there," Muriel jerked her finger at Eris. "you're discord. You're Chaos' less talented younger brother who thinks being shitty to his friends is a personality trait. They won't find you," she brought her face right up close to the boundary, so close that her nose began to smoke. "they don't want to find you."

She stepped back. Vivāda said nothing. Muriel waved her wand, hummed something backwards, chattered her teeth and threw a handful of sage into the air, before rearing back and stabbing the tip of her wand into the salt boundary's wall. It erupted with light, the ground vibrated enough to drive worms to the surface in an instant, the shriek of a boiling kettle filled everyone's ears, and a thin fog flooded the air. It took a minute to clear, in which there was some very desperate hand grabbing, some improper and accidental fondling, and more than a reasonable amount of shouting. Val barely had time to reach out before the familiar weight of Euci was clamped over her leg, and hardly a second to react before she felt Eris' lips on hers. The fog cleared and the ring was empty. Vivāda was gone. But Val didn't need to see that to know it was all, for now, ok.  

Val patted her evening hat over her hair. It was an ornate affair; lush purple velvet with a wide brim, absolutely covered in presently unlit candles, the dried wax from which kept them all firmly in place. She snapped her fingers and they all burst into life, and she angled her cigarette up among them. Bringing it back down she took a drag, and slotted her feet into her boots, the last piece of her performance outfit, that being a pair of black leather trousers and your textbook red jacket with pointed coat-tails. Then she sat for a while at her desk, watching the mirror and her absent reflection, thinking about nothing at all. 

It was ten at night. Two hours after the show was meant to open. At first she'd been filled with dread as she made her way  back to the circus, and then with inescapable disappointment; nobody had even arrived. Though Euci had, typical to her impossible fortitude, pulled everyone together. Lyca and Lee were back in dress-rehearsals, the clowns were holding off their withdrawal for another day, Tiffany had received enough praise from her nursing to persuade her that she was, in fact, radiant. They were primed and ready, bloodied but unbound. But without an audience. Unsure of what to do with themselves, they'd spent the next hour or so patching up the Big Top, battening down the hatches, cleaning up the Mess Hall, and even cleared out the dressing room that Tiffany had made such a mess of. Nobody said much during this time, but they were all thinking the same thing; we've let ourselves down. It was all for nothing. We aren't fit to call ourselves performers. All they could do now was spend their energy on cleaning up their mess and trying again tomorrow. And what if tomorrow was just as bad? Or worse? The concept of waking up and doing this whole shtick again felt like an impossible obstacle. 

Until half nine. They were congregating in the Big Top, and Val was trying her best to manage a pep-talk that was as un-convincing as her forged smile. Then Boo, who'd been outside having a cigarette, poked her head around the curtain and bellowed, "VISITOOOORS!"

"How many?" Val stage-whispered, jumping to her feet. Boo held up ten fingers then disappeared behind the curtain. You could have set it to music; the lights went on, everyone scattered, the furniture was lifted and thrown and settled into place, and every dressing room was in pandemonium. The Big Top was emptied, primed, prepared, and not five minutes later the guests trailed in. Val watched from a corner, eyeing them as they looked uncertainly around the empty room, and felt queasy. Guests were guests, but this was embarrassing. She clapped herself on the cheek, focused, and retreated to her dressing room to prepare. Ten people can become hundreds if you play your cards right. 

Now she stood up, and listened to the drumroll from the Big Top as she snapped her fingers and broke into a fine mist. She flitted down the hallway, escaped through a partition in the curtain, and infiltrated the pitch-black Big Top, reforming in the middle of the ring. 

The lights came on, the guests clapped politely, and the music (operated by one of Muriel's less troublesome spirits,) celebrated as she bowed. She gave a winning smile and welcomed them all, gesturing with grandeur at the barren circle around her. Another five had trailed in now. Even better. "Good evening, my esteemed guests, to a performance unlike any other. Tonight you will be privy to secrets known only to us, secrets that push the boundaries of your very cognition, and which beg you to question the reality you've come to understand," after a little more teasing, she snapped her fingers. The lights flashed, and she was gone, replaced by an assault course of rings and hoops and trapeze and seesaws. There were some gasps. Good. People never believed her shpiel at the beginning, some even laughed. But that little trick was usually enough to get them wondering. She wafted into the shadows at the perimeter of the ring, and watched.

The drums began. A pack of mountain lions appeared from under the bleachers, snarling and roaring and growling at the guests, each one adorned with a glit collar that twinkled in the spotlights that followed them around the ring as they leapt through the assault course in single file and in perfect synchronicity, till they blurred into a shining gold lemniscate. The string instruments broke in, rising over the drums then falling in time with them as a mob of shadows flooded in from the empty darkness around the ring, forming ranks and running in the opposite direction on the lions' course, leaping over and under them, and suddenly each wolf was illuminated as the luminescent bandana around its neck caught the light. They twisted around each other, lights melding together in the darkness to form shapes, patterns, even words and phrases like 'resist,' and 'ACAB.' Their personal flair. 

The act went on for a while, complimented by the guests' hushed gasps and the palpable tension in the air, each spectator humbled and terrified by the collection of vicious beasts in front of them, close enough to hear their ragged breath beating out of their chests in growls and pants, yes mesmerised by the sheer style and synchronicity of their act. They climaxed with a handful of isolated spotlights on some smaller groups that did some artful flips and jumps with each other, and one particularly risky trapeze act that sent one of the larger cats hurtling towards the bleachers, only to be snatched out of the line of fire at the last minute by one of the narrower wolves, the two landing opposite ends of the seesaw and acting like it was all intended. Nobody dared clap when the lights dimmed. When they went back up, the clowns had materialised in their place with no sign of the assault course. Only then did they feel safe enough to applaud. 

Clowns were a hard act to get right these days. Too many had turned out to be murderers, and the overall look was rather intimidating. And while none of them, not even Oleg, consented to having their perpetual makeup removed, they did allow for it to be painted over in more subdued, human tones, with just a handful of glitter in there for flair. They appeared in rows wearing tight blue tuxedos with hair swept sideways, each one clutching a briefcase in his pudgy little hand and chattering angrily to his neighbour. Oleg was behind them with his enormous feet resting on an oversized desk as he read a newspaper. Then, as the music hit his que, he whipped it down with great force and the smaller clowns leapt in surprise, all screaming at once. The audience laughed, and Oleg leapt over the desk to start his 'Angry Businessman, Featuring Idiots' routine. For a good twenty minutes he had the other clowns running all over the place; he stuffed them into their own briefcases, chucked them across the ring into hastily erected basketball nets, he picked up their proferred drinks and cakes and spilled each and every one across him, as precisely clumsy as a real accident yet primed for maximum spillage. All the while the audience's laughter was constant, a rumbling engine of people's voices falling over each other, a waterfall of joy. 

They crescendoed in the classic, in which the smaller clowns squeezed themselves into an RC car, and with two outside manning (and fighting over) the controller. They drove it into Oleg's ankles, knocking him onto his own desk that collapsed under him. They flooded out of the car, the audience aghast at the feat of contortionism, and bound Oleg down Gulliver's Travels style, before the lights faded to black and the Big Top exploded in applause. The binding was more of a necessity for getting Oleg back to his abode, than anything else. But they always found a way to work it in. 

Tiff was next. The trapeze, lined with fairy lights and bejewelled to the point where anyone else's hands would be scraped to shreds after one swing, descended from the ceiling. She wasted no time, swooping across the audience's eyeline and turning a full three-sixty in the sky before grabbing the falling handle with her extra legs, the momentum as the rest of her body pulling her by faster and faster, each time sending her higher, her turns more complicated, leaving it later and later before she saved herself from the unforgiving ground below. The audience was on tenderhooks, each drop yielding louder gasps, each turn sending them closer to the edge of their seats. A third trapeze fell from the ceiling, then a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, and suddenly Tiff was flinging between each one, changing direction midair with a careful turn, a skillful nudge from an unseen leg, and the tension was almost too much to bear; Val could feel it in her lungs each time she inhaled, the oxygen felt thick as though no-one else were breathing. 

Then, Tiffany missed. The audience's gasps warped into screams, people stood up from their seats as she dropped dead through the air, a full foot away from the nearest trapeze that was falling further away by the second. Far below, the ground was illuminated with cat's eyes that rebounded the spotlight as it followed Tiff, showing just how far away from it she was, how treacherous the drop. What the audience then saw was the trapeze swinging quickly back towards her before she flipped and hooked her legs around it and flew across the air to do one last flip before landing, and the lights going out all at once. In reality, Tiff had just flung a bit of web out to nab it. Nevertheless, the darkness exploded with cheers. 

Next was Ba'al. The perimeter of the ring burst into flames. People screamed, but quickly quieted as two balls of fire swung in a mesmerizing pattern in front of them, moving so fast they could draw lines in the afterglow- and they did. Ba'al wrote a story in the light, bounding around the ring to keep up with each action, each subtle movement of the heroine's hand, every twitch of the antagonist's eye, so fast you'd expect him to have more hands than just the two. The audience was entrenched. Val had a simple way of testing whether they were interested or just bored, and it was this; she scattered a handful of loose change at the foot of the bleachers where they rang and tinged against the metal. Nobody looked, or moved an inch. They were too focused on the crimson painting Ba'al was bringing to life, with the wordless story he was writing with the aid of Muriel's drums, (musicians weren't nearly so cheap as magic.) The story reached its peak, Ba'al's movements became more subtle, and the music rose. He let them put the story together using the pieces he'd already given them. Then, suddenly, darkness. One, two, three, four, five seconds, long enough for people in the audience to start panicking that they'd never see the end. Then, with the roaring of a waking volcano, he exhaled a massive ball of fire into the air. It splayed out in front of the audience like a scroll unfurling, a landscape painting for them all to see, that moved and danced and closed the story for a few minutes more, until the cinders slowly faded and died. Never had you heard such applause, such happy tears. Ba'al had always wanted to write. 

The penultimate act was Jaya and Jacques. The former stood alone in the middle of the ring, in her evening down and little adornment. For a moment, the audience was confused. Then she opened her mouth. And they were in ecstasy. 

Jaya's voice, like the siren's of legend, drove people into a frenzy. If you wanted to hear sorrow she'd sing you the nursery rhyme your dead grandmother used to hush you to sleep with. If you needed to feel empowered, she'd sing the soundtrack of the movie that changed your life. If you needed courage, she'd sound just like you. But better, happier. And it wasn't that her song changed between people, no. With her abstracted ears, Val could hear each one, each contrary note falling out of her mouth at once. She was like a jukebox to the soul. She rose, her notes grew higher, climbing the spectrum and pulling the audience to their feet, moving left and right and bringing them with her, mouth opening wider and wider. The audience was positively screaming. 

She clung to a high note, and suddenly another spotlight appeared, way up in the air on a platform at the top of a twisting iron staircase. Jacques was standing there in a blue suit, dapper and tidy. Almost debonair. His head was practically grazing the tented ceiling as he nodded to the audience, who were agape, caught between his sudden appearance and Jaya's voice. A drumroll appeared out of nowhere, and they waited. One, two, three, four- there it was. One of the men in the audience fainted. As he slumped to his knees, the drums stopped, and Jacques dove over the platform into empty space, plummeting towards Jaya. Two more people fainted before they made contact. Jacques fell into Jaya's open mouth and disappeared inside her, bringing the note to its end and releasing the audience from its spell as the lights shut off. And they were silent. They looked at each other in the dim light as if waking up from a dream, and smiled. Silent smiled of indescribable joy, at a shared experience so intimate they may never feel it again. 

Finally. Val snapped her fingers and wafted back into one of the shadows in the ring, her hat reigniting as she stepped into the light. The audience barely reacted to her appearance now, as to be expected. After all that, a woman who could disappear into the shadows was hardly a miracle. She pulled her cigarette holder out of the air and brought it up to her hat, then pulled it back down and took a drag. "My esteemed guests. It is time for us to say goodbye. But please remember the secrets you saw here tonight," on what appeared to be its own volition, a pudgy little cannon wheeled across the ring to sit beside Val. It was purple and red pin-striped, with 'Kannonball Kid' printed on the side. She flicked her wrist and a hatch in its rear opened up. "you must keep them to yourselves and between each other. These experiences, these marvels that the earth had given life to, are for your eyes only," Nothing screamed 'free publicity' like implied secrecy. 

Eucaria appeared from behind the cannon, puffing on her cigar. She pointed her finger at the audience and made a clicking noise with her throat. Strange child. She pulled the cannon into position, and from the shadow that Val had used to reappear she produced a wheelbarrow absolutely loaded with bright-red sticks of dynamite, black orbs with long fuses sticking out, and crates labelled 'EXPLOSIVE.' It was hard to get people to recognise what they were otherwise. She loaded them into the back of the cannon as Val continued. 'We welcome you all to remember your night with us, and to keep the wonders of reality and nature in the forefront of your minds," Euci finished loading and closed the hatch. She swaggered to the front of the cannon and waved. Val clicked her fingers again, and grey smoke clouded Euci's head, forming an aviator's helmet and goggles, firmly fastened. "But for now, my friends," Val concluded as her daughter climbed in. "We bid you adieu, and say, 'until next time, stay strange.'" she bent down beside the cannon, touching the end of her cigarette to the fuse before stepping back. She waved, and the lights went up to reveal the rest of the acts behind her, taking their bow to the cacophony of cheers and claps and hoots. A drumroll began, and all eyes were on the cannon. 

The fuse hit its limit, and in a blast that threatened to bowl the bleachers over Euci was launched through the air, through the hole in the ceiling into the night sky where she disappeared like a star winking out of existence. The audience watched her go, her wake snowing with glitter and streamers from the cannon, and were speechless. They looked back down to where Val and the other acts had been, and saw it empty. As was the whole ring. And the ground, no leftover glitter or paper, not even a scrape in the dirt. Gingerly they escaped the bleachers, looking quizzically at the Big Top, devoid of all the glitz, just a circle of dirt in the dusky light of a few humming light bulbs. As if all the acts had been just shadow puppets that were now extinguished in the glaring light.