The Nightingale Circus by Ioana Visan Page B

pamphlet around and tilted
his head. “Wow … t he prices aren’t bad but
… how can they do that? You’d think they were built by us.”
    “Yep.” Nicholas nodded. “There are some
things in there even I couldn’t make them do. These girls
have skills.”
    Spinner finished with the pamphlet and held
it out, smiling with glee.
    Rake glanced at it but made no gesture to
pick it up. He frowned at the curtain covering the back wall.
    Serioja ignored it altogether. “She’s
late.”
    “We know, we know…” Spinner sighed. “When she
gets back, buy a dance and get her out of your system. We won’t
tell Anya, eh, guys?”
    The grunts he got in reply could have meant
anything. But it was the second night in a row they had come to the
club, having nothing better to do with the city on lockdown because
of the riots, and it was getting boring. If one of them could find
some excitement, why not?
    Nicholas stumbled out of his seat and took a
moment to regain his footing. “I’m going to the bathroom.” He
strode to a side exit, moving with grace, only his glassy dark eyes
hinting he might have drunk more than his usual.
    Rake got up, too.
    “Rake?” Spinner looked up.
    “Something’s not right,” Rake said in his
gruff voice. “The others have returned twice by now.”
    “No, Rake … Big Dino doesn’t like it when we
get in trouble.”
    “I’m not getting in trouble.”
    True, few people dared to stand up to the big
knife thrower. On the other hand, if there was trouble already…
    Spinner finished his drink. He’d paid for it,
and he hated leaving it there. When he entered the corridor,
Serioja walked two steps behind him.
     
    * * *
     
    The gag prevented Riella from screaming. If
she had, she would have been hoarse by now. How much longer? How
much longer until the man had enough of this torture? Client, not
man. Regular people didn’t do these things to their own kind. She
struggled weakly against the restraints. The leather bands bit into
her wrists, adding another layer of blood to the cuts.
    The client walked around her, adjusting ties
and binds. He never said a word, and he wore the same inscrutable
expression all along as if he didn’t see a woman in front of him
but only a tool to relieve his frustrations.
    Surprisingly, he didn’t get off on her being
submissive. He enjoyed her rage. And she was enraged over
the bruises he’d left on her creamy skin, and possibly a couple of
broken bones, too. It was hard to tell as there was too much pain
all around.
    The struggle brought no relief. The machine
he’d tied her to was designed in such a way she couldn’t break free
by herself. There were too many restraints and odd angles that gave
her no leverage. She shouldn’t waste her strength that way, but she
couldn’t help it. Her body reacted outside of her control. But she
wouldn’t give in. She refused to let this monster break her.
    The client pulled on a lever. Her leg twisted
unnaturally. Riella let out another soundless scream.
     
    * * *
     
    Nicholas finished washing his hands in the
rusty sink and watched himself in the mirror. The past few years
spent at the circus had added fine lines to the corners of his eyes. In other circumstances, he
would have thought they made him look distinguished, but tonight
they made him look old. He felt old, long past his thirties.
He’d traveled the world, never staying too long in one place
because the circus didn’t, and he’d seen too much. More pain and
destruction than he could tolerate. The circus people handled it
well, but he didn’t have the stomach for it.
    Letting out a frustrated sigh, he pulled on
the lapels of his coat—an old reminder of another life. A life when
he used to be someone else. Sometimes it felt like yesterday he’d
left his mother at the top of the Capitole stairs in Toulouse. The
buzz of the alcohol clouded his judgment and let memories filter
through. He shook his head. Too much wallowing. It didn’t help
anyone, and