Page 14 of Cirque Obscurum


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The tent is pretty spacious, with a small bed covered in colorful, mismatched blankets and pillows. At the base is an old wooden trunk, shut and locked. The floor has a huge, circular rug of many colors with grass growing around the edges of it. Posts hold the tent aloft above us, which is bright red. Lanterns and candles are spread around the rest of the room, perched on boxes and crates, illuminating the area in a cozy manner.

I hear laughter and screams of joy. I can smell circus food and almost feel the excitement and happiness of the visitors. It makes me smile despite the pain still lingering in my body, and I settle back to listen to the familiar sounds.

I must doze off eventually because when I wake, it’s to a solid hand shaking my side. My eyes jerk open, clashing with bright orbs in the dark tent. “It’s time,” the sultry voice tells me as my eyes widen, roving across the man leaning over me.

It’s not Spade or Diamond.

My eyes land on a small black club tattoo under his left eye, and I instantly know that’s his name. They all seem to have taken the suit cards as their monikers for some reason. For a moment, I just stare, caught up in his beauty, the kind of which I’ve never seen before. His hair is black and shiny, even in the dim light, parted slightly to the side, and trimmed to just above his ears with each sideburn shaped into a triangle. His eyebrows are just as dark and thick as his hair, slashing straight across deep brown eyes that seem to swallow me whole. He has longer eyelashes than I have ever seen on any man, his nose is straight and long, and his jaw is chiseled and covered in a slight shadow of stubble, with more above his full lips. He’s taller than me and lithe, but I can see muscles pulling at his oversized white shirt, which is tucked into loose palazzo pants.

He’s beautiful, like the type of man you see in the papers.

I must be staring because he tilts his head. “Did you hear me?”

“Time?” I force myself to sit up, my cheeks heating at being caught staring at him. “For the ceremony?” I ask, my brain slowly coming back to life.

He nods silently, offering me his hand with long, clean fingers. I lay mine in his before I can stop myself. Something about him puts me instantly at ease. His other arm slides around me, and he helps me to my feet. I maneuver the crutches until I can hop at his side to the entrance of the tent. Once there, he stops, forcing me to halt beside him. “Do not be afraid, Ember. Nothing will hurt you here. You’re not alone anymore.” He steps from the tent before I can speak.

I follow him silently, his words filling my head as I hop through the grassy circus which is now quiet. It’s strange to see it so dead after the noise of the night. The lights are still on, but the place is empty. Popcorn and nuts are scattered across the ground, along with tickets and forgotten toys left abandoned in the rush to return home. Tents stand in no particular fashion or reason, with wooden huts and stalls lining the path we cross before the big top, but we don’t go inside. Instead, we head deeper into the circus, away from the showy public side and into the heart of this place.

Away from the lights and joy, we plunge into the darkness, and despite everything that happened to me within shadows, I go willingly. I follow Club deeper and deeper until the only light we see is that of the full moon.

When we round the final tent, I see them.

Three masked men stand in a row—Diamond, Spade, and Heart. As I freeze, Club moves to their side, pulling his own mask down until they all face me. Before them is a circular wooden table. Even from here, I can see carvings etched into the wood that seem to glow with an eerie blue light from within, something that shouldn’t be possible. Candles litter the ground around the edges of the clearing, the flames flickering across the masks and trees, creating an ominous atmosphere as I swallow and tread closer. My crutches catch on the grass, but I don’t stop until I’m before the round table. Something about it calls to me.

In the middle of the table, there’s a dip, like a bowl has been cut into it, but it’s empty right now, as if waiting to be filled.

I glance from it to them as they watch me, and then Diamond speaks, his voice confident and silky. “You made your choice today, Ember. You called us with the card, and now you have chosen to stay with us, with Cirque Obscurum. The safety, companionship, and power you’ll find here come with a price. There must be balance. There must be payment.”

“Payment?” I whisper, worry filling me. I have no money. I have nothing to my name. What other potential payment could I offer?

Part of me knew this wasn’t a normal circus. I mean, they told me the joker card called them to me, and then they offered to kill my husband for me. There’s something darker at play here, something else, but I won’t change my mind or make the choice to leave.

I want to stay, but what’s the cost?

“Cirque is more than a haven for the beaten and the damned. It’s solace. It’s home. It’s a promise and an oath. It’s everything, and it’s our lives. Once you sell your soul to cirque, you will belong to it. You can never leave because your life will be tied to its life. Where it goes, we go. Its wants and desires will become your own. There are things in the dark, Ember, you can’t even begin to understand, but you will.” Diamond steps forward. “We have all given our souls to cirque. We uphold its wishes and desires. We answer the calls of the lost and forsaken, and we protect those who have no one else. Cirque is here. Cirque is everywhere. We freaks play the cards and we are the cards.” He stops before the table across from me. “You’re to be one of us. If you wish to stay, you must swear an oath to Cirque Obscurum and hand over your soul. You must become a nightmare that preys on other nightmares. Ember, will you do so? Will you give your soul to this place?”

The world seems to hold its breath around me as if it’s waiting. Something inside me throbs with recognition, like I’ve finally found the place I was always meant to be.

“My soul will belong to the cirque forever?” I ask, my voice quiet, as if knowing this place has ears.

Diamond nods. “Until death.”

I glance at the men standing behind him, and something within me relaxes. I wanted freedom so badly, but a bird with clipped wings can’t fly far when captivity is all it’s known. Maybe I was always meant for a cage, but now I get to choose what kind.

“My soul is yours.” The words flow from me without hesitation, and the earth seems to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Not mine, ours,” Diamond murmurs as he kneels, gesturing for me to copy him. I struggle with the crutches, so Spade and Club circle me, each taking an arm and helping me to my knees. It hurts my injured leg, but I swallow the pain—I have had worse—and I kneel at the other side of the table. Heart stands behind Diamond, his head tilted as he watches me. His mocking grin makes my heart race.

“Repeat after me. I give my soul willingly. Tonight, I swear an oath to Cirque Obscurum.”

I repeat it quickly, and he nods approvingly.

“The cirque will become my home, my sanctuary, its performers my family and hunting companions. I swear my soul to the cirque. I swear on the cards to answer the call.”

The words flow freely, and Diamond nods once more.

“I, Ember, swear it upon my forsaken soul. I swear to be one with Cirque Obscurum until the day the grave calls me home.”

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