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Prologue
“Oh, come on, Marie. It’s not that weird,” my dad mutters, tightening his hold on my hand as he meets my mom’s disapproving eyes—eyes that are the exact same shade of green as mine.
“She has been going on and on about seeing this circus for weeks now,” my mom hisses. “Most girls want to get their dresses ready for the school dance, but not our little girl.” There’s disgust in her voice, as if wanting to go to the circus instead of wearing frilly dresses is the ultimate sin.
“So what? I don’t want her to be like those snooty girls anyway.” My dad winks down at me. I grin in excitement as his eyes land on the scene before us. “If my little girl wants to go to the circus, then we’re going to take her.” With that declaration, he begins to walk toward the gate, and I almost scream in victory.
For weeks, Mom told me I couldn’t go to the circus. I’ve pleaded, begged, and bribed. As soon as I saw the vivid green flyers posted around town with stark black words stenciled across, I knew I had to go.
Something in me demanded it.
CIRQUE OBSCURUM: ALL ARE WELCOME.
OCTOBER 1-31ST.
FIND THE DARKNESS WITHIN.
Mom had been understandably horrified when I came home from school holding it. She almost had a stroke as she clutched her pearls and begged me to toss it in the trash. That didn’t stop me from telling my dad about it, though, and now we’re here. I can hardly handle my excitement.
I skip at my dad’s side as we approach the elaborate entrance before us. The arched entryway is shaped like a yawning mouth with fangs hanging down, the face of some sort of demonic clown looking down on all those who dare enter. It’s done in reds and blacks with a top hat perched on his head. At night, I have no doubt the lights will add to the eerie display, but in the daytime, it’s almost comical.
Beyond the opening, I see the tip of the big top with red and white stripes—the signature look of every circus. It almost appears cute during the day, like a joyful mirage meant to beckon children in.
Grass crunches under my feet, the brisk autumn breeze making me snuggle deeper into my coat, even as I grin widely when we pass under the archway and into another world.
Tents and stalls line the walkway to the big top. Some are closed, but some remain open, serving food or offering carnival games where you can win a prize. There are caravans and old wooden houses parked throughout, all painted in the red and black color scheme with monstrous figures and drawings across each to announce who is inside.
Men and women in costume dance throughout the thin, early afternoon crowd. One tumbles by on a large ball, making me giggle. I gasp when a man in a black suit on stilts leans down, a giant, grinning maw painted on his white face and fake blood dripping around his red eyes. He gets right in my face, and I stumble back, briefly terrified, before being delighted with the strangeness of it.
“Welcome home, vindica.” He chuckles before lifting one giant foot and ambling away.
Giggling, I spin to soak it all in before yanking my dad over to the closest booth. “Face painting, come on!”
“Alright, alright,” Dad says with a smile before tugging some bills out of his slacks. I glance back to see my mom daintily holding her purse against her chest, clutching her cardigan shut as she looks around at the performers in horror. Ignoring her, I throw myself into the black wingback throne set next to the table and grin widely at a man dressed like a skeleton.
“Well, well, well, little darkling. What can we turn you into?” he purrs, his paints spread out before him.
“Oh, a skeleton! No! A clown! Oh, anything really.” I almost jump up and down in my excitement. There’s no way I can pick just one, so I let the man choose.
Smiling widely, he takes the money from my dad and grabs a palette and a brush, dragging his chair close. “Trust me, I know exactly the thing. Close your eyes, little darkling.”
I do as I’m told, trusting him. I wiggle in my chair, but the man is very patient with me as he paints, and when he leans back, finished, my mother screams and turns away. My father just grins at me.
“Very scary,” Dad says.
“Let me see,” I beg, and the man hands me a mirror. My mouth drops open at the art he created on my face.
There are bright red devil horns above the arches of my eyebrows with a jewel at each tip. My mouth has been extended on either side in the same bright red with more jewels at each tipping point. Diamond’s also frame my face, making a heart shape that ends on my chin and arches between my brows. My eyes are black with smoky tendrils trailing down onto my cheeks.
I look amazing.
“I love it,” I whisper.
“Good, now go have fun, little darkling,” the face painter says with a smile. “Enjoy the darkness you find.”
“Thank you,” I tell the man before taking my father’s hand and letting him lead me away.
We spend the next hour exploring, eating, playing games, and enjoying a small juggling show. “Only one stall left, thank goodness,” Mom whispers as we pass between two tents. I ignore her in favor of my cotton candy, but still, her words make me sad. It’s almost over? Already?
