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Turning my head, I glance between tents as we pass to see a young boy in a black waistcoat and slacks. He’s speaking sadly to a huge clown, his hands moving fluidly with his storytelling. He looks so normal but feels anything but. He’s strange. I miss a step at the sight of him, and my father catches me so I don’t fall. I don’t know how, but they must sense me watching. When they turn, and I meet the black eyes of the boy so close to my age, my heart nearly stops. He’s beautiful, but he turns away before I can study him closer.
“Ember, keep up,” Mom chastises when I trip again.
Turning away, I focus on my steps, not wanting to get in trouble or for the day to end prematurely. We stop outside the last tent, and even my dad looks dubious at its appearance.
“Maybe we should just go home,” he suggests, scratching his graying hair. “What do you think, squirt?”
“Not a chance,” I declare before handing him my cotton candy, then I push through the closed flaps. The sign above the door announces that the psychic is in, as well as some other words I don’t understand.
Fata manus
The decor inside the tent makes my eyes widen. The chill from outside is gone, and it’s replaced by a spicy warmth that surrounds me as I step deeper inside. It’s dark in here, with candles and lanterns strung from the ceiling and placed out on every available surface. Brightly colored material hangs along the walls in strips, and in the middle of it all is a round table with a black cloth draped over it. Upon it is a deck of cards spread out across the top.
“Hello?” I call boldly.
“Well, aren’t you a brave little soul?” comes a smoky voice. A woman appears as if from nowhere, despite me not seeing any of the curtains move. Unlike the other performers, she doesn’t wear face paint. Instead, she has lots of dark makeup on that only adds to her mystery. She’s dressed in a long black gown that catches the light, and rings adorn every finger. There’s a tattoo of an open eye on the middle of her forehead, and I’m mesmerized by it. “Aren’t you afraid?” she asks as she studies the soft pink dress my mother insisted I wear. Clearly, I don’t fit in here—not dressed like this.
“Not really,” I admit. “I don’t tend to get scared.”
Smiling, she sits at the table and gestures for me to do the same on the opposite side. “Then come have your fortune read, little one. Let us find your fate.”
I sit happily as she shuffles through the deck of cards before placing them on the table, then she lays her hands palms up around them. I place mine in hers, and her eyes close as she focuses on whatever it is she does. I see her mouth moving, and the lanterns and candles around us seem to flicker before they go out and we’re doused in darkness. My heart speeds up, but I don’t let go, and when her eyes open and a single candle comes to life on the table, I jump. Her eyes are no longer soft brown. They are bright white.
I stare in awe, my heart in my throat, as she releases my hands and spreads the cards out. She flips one, two, then three of them before looking back into my eyes.
“Oh, my brave little soul,” she murmurs, but her voice is deeper now, darker, as if coming from behind her. “Life will not be kind to you, not in the beginning.”
“I’ll fail my tests.” I sigh in understanding. “Mother won’t be happy, but I hate studying.”
“I wish that were all,” the voice says. “Darkness encircles you, but remember that those who hide in the light can carry just as much evil as those in the shadows.”
I frown, unsure what she means until she turns her hands over and grasps mine. She presses her palms to mine, and I feel something materialize between our fingers. “Take this. It’s our card. Once given, it belongs to you. When you call, we will come. You’ll know when the time is right.”
“Why?” I wonder out loud as I tug my hands away to see the black matte card with red engravings. It’s a joker, but the joker has a knife gripped in his hands and a heart lies across the edges.
“We always come for those who need to be saved. Remember that.” She leans back, and the candles suddenly flicker to life, her eyes fading back to brown. “Your parents are getting worried. You should go.”
“Ember?” I hear my dad’s voice from outside, and I scramble back to my feet.
“Coming,” I call as I clutch the card to my chest. “Thank you,” I tell her, curious about who she is.
“No, thank you, little one.” She stands, sweeping her skirt behind her. “One day, you will understand just what your purpose will be.”
Nodding, I head to the tent entrance before my parents can come in after me. There are already enough rumors about how strange I am, how different. I don’t need any more. Mom already worries for my future and how I’ll marry and have a family if I’m an outcast.
I don’t care about any of that, but I hate how she worries, even Dad.
“Remember, little one,” the fortune teller calls as I stand half in and half out of the tent. “The darkness will always come when you call. Cirque Obscurum’s doors will always be open to you should you wish for it.”
Ignoring the strange feeling inside me, I nod and head back into the sunlight.
I clutch the card where my parents can’t see, and it seems to burn in my palm.
Chapter
One
Fifteen years later . . .
