Page 12

1

I weave through the crowds of families and screaming children, the smell of sugary treats and grease hanging heavy in the air. The carnival’s family night is in full swing, the rickety booths and colorful tents a stark contrast to the darkness that lurks beneath. I put my fire dancing props away for the night because the family-friendly crowd isn’t suitable for my usual routine. My voice, the constant companion in my head, hums a discordant tune, echoing my disgust and frustration.

“What a boring night we’re gonna have tonight.”

You’re telling me! Nobody to fuck and nobody to kill. I hate family nights. Why does Cade insist we have to have them? It’s not like the night of Inferno doesn’t bring in a shit ton of money.

“Maybe if we did more than one single show while in town...”

Exactly. Make Inferno a two-night special. I’m sure it would bring in so much revenue. Or even add more stops to the schedule. Anything but this.

As I walk, my eyes take in the sea of faces and the laughter of children, and for a moment I smile inside. At least these children seem happy. Unlike my own horrible upbringing, at least these parents are trying. “Don’t do this to yourself, Nova. You had no control over what happened.”

It’s right. I didn't have control over what my father did to my mother and unborn brother. I need to stop dwelling and enjoy the night off.

Everything seems to be going as usual: screaming children playing games, getting that rush of sugar that will surely have them crash out for the night once they’re back home. Seeing the parents' smiles on their faces as they enjoy the happiness stirs something inside me. "Ugh... are you actually happy looking at the little goblins?”

Let me enjoy this, okay? You know I’ll never have my own.

“Fair enough, just don’t get too attached and do something stupid like steal one. We don’t have the mental capacity to care for one.”

Then I see them. A man, his wife, and their small son, clinging to his mother’s leg like a lifeline. The woman’s eyes are downcast, her smile forced, and her entire demeanor screams of fear. Leaning against one of the booths, arms crossed over my chest, I watch the way the man pays no attention to his wife unless he needs something from her. How the child keeps his distance from him and looks defeated.

“Victims,” the voice growls inside my head. “He hurts them, Nova. It’s written all over their faces.”

I feel a spark of rage ignite inside of me, and my gaze zeroes in on the man. Not that he is anything to write home about compared to the men I’ve enjoyed. I understand why a woman might find him attractive. Tall, not hideous, and puts on the vibe that he isn’t a piece of shit. Though the demeanor of the woman and child clearly refute that last thought. He is oblivious to the terror he inspires, too busy ogling the other women around him to notice the way his wife flinches when he touches her. “Or he doesn’t care that they are afraid.” The boy, sensing his mother’s distress, stays glued to her side, his big eyes watching his father with a mixture of fear and wariness.

“We need to stop this, Nova. We can’t just stand by and do nothing.”

What do you expect me to do? It’s fucking broad daylight. And I for sure am not fucking that.

“Not fuck him. Kill him.”

Ohhhhh. Well, now that you’ve said it. I can definitely go for that.

I know that tone, that feeling. It’s the same one that drives me to perform—to lose myself in the flames and the music. But this time, it’s different. This time, it’s not just about the thrill of the show; it’s about righting what’s been wronged. The voice and I are in perfect sync, our thoughts aligned in a singular purpose: to take down the man who’s hurting these two innocent people. I’m not typically one for any kind of vigilante-type justice but it seems like this is a special circumstance. They walk past the stall I’m leaning against and the little boy locks eyes with me and I give him a little wave.

The complete sadness in his eyes rips my heart a part.

Fuck this!

I stalk behind them, keeping enough distance between us as I watch the man interact with his family. The woman tries to make small talk, but he’s too busy scanning the crowds, his eyes lingering on the other women, patrons, and performers alike. The voice growls, its anger simmering just below the surface. “He’s a predator, Nova. He’s got no idea what’s waiting for him. Oh, we are going to have so much fun playing with this one.”

That I am. The pleasure that I will get from this will hopefully tide me over until we get to the next location.

The sweet little boy looks up at his mother, his eyes welling with tears, and she quickly kneels down to comfort him. The man, still oblivious, continues to chat up one of the other performers, his back turned to his family. The voice is a constant stream of encouragement, urging me on as I plan my attack. “His blood will look so pretty on the blade of our knife. We’ll show him what it means to hurt those who can’t fight back.”

I feel my heart pounding in my chest, and my senses are heightened as I move through the crowds. The music and laughter around me fade into the background, and all I can focus on is the man, his wife, and their son. It’s as if everything around me moves in slow motion, the world ebbing and flowing, but I’m stuck in a trance. Watching my prey. My thrumming heartbeat is the only sound I can hear, with the exception of the voice. It’s a steady drumbeat in my head, driving me forward and pushing me to act. I know what I have to do. I’m going to kill him. And I’m going to enjoy every second of his life ending.

“Yes! No boring night for us!”

I weave in and out of the crowds, my eyes never leaving the man’s back. The man caresses the back of his wife’s neck, brushing her hair aside, and I draw in a breath at the sight of deep purple bruises. He rubs his thumb back and forth over the marks, causing her to recoil in pain. Sadistic motherfucker. He’s fucking ballsy to draw attention to the bruises on her body.

“I wonder if the child has bruises. I’d bet money that he does. Unless he just gets off on the fear of the child. Either way, he’s gotta die. The world won’t miss a man like him. You know they should really give you an award after you kill him. Like you did your civic duty in taking out the trash.”

Please stop yapping. I’m trying to focus.

The voice constantly whispers in my ear, its words are a dark serenade that fuels the rage that simmers just below the surface of the facade that I hide behind. “He’s a monster, Nova. He’s hurting them, and he thinks he can get away with it. But we’re not going to let him.”

No, I won’t.

I make my way to the edge of the carnival, where the shadows are darker and the crowds are thinner. The smell of grease and sugar gives way to the acrid scent of smoke and diesel fuel. I know this area like the back of my hand, every twist and turn of the midway, every hidden corner, and secret spot. My voice knows it too, and it guides me with ease, its words a steady stream of encouragement.

“Take a moment to breathe. We need a plan.”

Plan? More like he just needs to die. I could drown him in the pool of pig’s blood. That would be a pretty fun way to kill him.

“That wouldn’t be as satisfying, though. And it would draw attention to the carnival.”

Hmmm, I don’t want to kill him in the trailer. Maybe I can find somewhere nearby? There are some densely wooded areas towards the back of the property.

“That might work. We can take a peek a little later.”

Moving deeper into the shadows, I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, my senses heightened. I’m the predator now, stalking my prey through the darkness. The man is still oblivious, too caught up in his own desires to notice the danger lurking just out of sight.

The voice is a growl now, its words a low, menacing rumble. “We need to get him alone, Nova. Get him away from the crowds. We don’t want any witnesses.”

Not now. Tonight. We will do it tonight.

I spot a narrow alleyway between two of the carnival’s storage tents, the entrance hidden behind a tattered banner. I stop for a moment and catch my breath, trying to clear my mind. My voice agrees, its tone a cold, calculated whisper. “ Now to figure out how to lure him away. What can we do to get his attention?”

I know exactly how to lure him away. Men like him only want one thing. Pussy. They want to feel like Kings. But first, I want to make sure that his wife and child know they will be safe.

“You are such a softie.”

If only someone would have done that for me and my family. Maybe my life would have been different if someone had helped us.

“You’d still have me in your head.”

I move swiftly, my feet silent on the dusty ground, emerging from the alleyway and spotting them. The man is still chatting up the other performer, his back is turned to me and his family. His child dances back and forth, desperate to use the bathroom. The woman touches the back of his arm with hesitation and brings attention to the boy. Her husband draws in a deep breath and turns to her, giving her a strained yet annoyed smile. Pointing to the bathroom, he shoves his wife in the direction and turns back around to continue his talk with the female performer.

Now’s my chance to talk to them.

“Don’t fuck this up, Nova. Be sure that they aren’t too far gone. Sometimes the Stolkholm syndrome is too deep.”