Page 38 of Chaos Carnival (Cirque de Sanguine #2)
Chapter 37: Chaotic Harmony
Tess
Fate sang through the fairgrounds as our opening night crowd gathered, their anticipation humming in harmony with the streams weaving through the air. I traced my fingers over my fortune telling table, feeling every future that would unfold across its surface tonight. My skin still tingled with the memory of Maverick's touch, of whispered confessions and the raw vulnerability in his eyes when he'd said those three words. The mate bond thrummed with contentment.
Each crystal was already placed right where it needed to be. I'd seen their positions in a thousand successful readings, though my visions were steadier now, anchored by the certainty of what Maverick and I had just shared. The confession I'd seen coming in a hundred different ways had somehow still managed to take my breath away.
“You're sure about this?” Maverick asked from the entrance of my tent, his presence solid and fierce. He cut a striking figure in his ringmaster's suit, and I smiled. The strands around him shimmered with pride and possession, but there was something new there too—a golden warmth that thrummed in time with our heartbeats.
“I'm sure,” I said, turning to face him, fighting back a blush as I remembered how those same hands had traced reverent patterns across my skin minutes ago. “You're about to tell me we don't have to do the fortune telling tonight if I'm not ready.”
His mouth quirked, unsettled by my anticipation of his words. The bond between us flared with equal parts frustration and affection. “Stop it, monstre.”
“I can’t.” I moved closer. “In some versions of this conversation, you convince me to let Stone guard the tent. In others, you try to cancel the show entirely.” I traced a finger down his lapel. “But in all of them, something is coming.”
“What kind of something?” His voice dropped lower, protective instincts flaring.
“Shadows,” I murmured, watching them dance. “Hunters, maybe. Or something worse.” Blood on snow, ravens circling, a knife in the dark. But also, our triumph, our survival, our ascension. “But it doesn't matter. This show happens tonight. It has to.”
Maverick's hands found my waist, and I leaned into his touch a moment before he made contact. “You're doing that on purpose,” he lamented.
I smiled. “Yes. Does it bother you?”
“Everything about what you've become bothers me,” he admitted. “And fascinates me.”
A burst of laughter from outside drew our attention. Through the tent flap, Addie directed our human staff with bright enthusiasm. These moments of perfect alignment were becoming my new normal.
“Five minutes to doors!” Lux's voice carried across the grounds, right on schedule.
“You should go,” I told Maverick, already seeing how this moment would end – with his kiss, with his reluctance, with his eventual acceptance. “The ringmaster needs to make his grand entrance. Don't worry,” I added as he opened his mouth to protest, “I already know every threat that might come tonight. None of them will catch me off guard.”
His fingers tightened on my waist. “That's not as comforting as you think it is.”
“I know,” I intoned, pulling him down for a kiss before he could. He responded with a growl that sent heat pooling in my belly, his power flaring possessively.
“Go,” I whispered against his mouth. “Your audience awaits. And so do mine.”
He pulled back, hesitating as he searched my face. “Promise you'll—“
“Stay alert? Call if I need help? Not take any unnecessary risks?” I finished for him, smiling. “I promise. Now go be magnificent.”
His thumb traced my lower lip. The tent's atmosphere shifted, the night's energies gathering, a taste of metal on my tongue, sharp and ancient.
“Tess?” Maverick's concern rippled through the air between us.
“Go,” I said, knowing how the crowd would gasp at his command of the ring. “Make them believe in monsters.” I smiled, knowing we were them—the real monsters.
He studied my face for a moment longer, then pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“Stay safe, monstre.”
As he strode into the gathering darkness, I watched the strands shimmer around him, showing me his triumph in the ring, the way the crowd would lean forward in their seats, breath caught in their throats.
I turned back to my table, fingers dancing over the tarot cards, and mused. Why read cards when I already knew? But humans needed their props, their tangible connections to the mysterious. They wouldn’t believe a word I said without them, even though I was one of few who could divulge anything they wished to know.
“You know, my dear, for someone who can see every possibility, you seem remarkably blind to the obvious,” Oscar's cultured voice cut through my thoughts. His crystal skull caught the lamplight, casting prismatic patterns across my table of fortunes.
I didn’t bother to look up to see the phantasmal form. “And what obvious thing am I missing, Oscar?”
“That perhaps seeing everything means seeing too much. The human mind wasn't meant to process infinite possibilities. Even my considerable intellect would strain under such a burden.”
“The threads don't feel like a burden,” I countered. “They feel like truth.”
“Ah, but truth itself can be the heaviest burden of all. I should know—I made quite a career of dancing around it.” His form flickered with remembered wit. “Just... remember that you're still Tess underneath all that cosmic awareness. The girl who used to burn toast and curse at stubbed toes.”
Something darker stirred. The hunters' approach rippled through the ribbons like blood through water, both threat and opportunity. Their arrival marked an irreversible shift for us. And for them.
The tent flap rustled, and my first customers entered, right on schedule. A young couple, their fingers intertwined, trying to project confidence they didn't feel. Every possible reading I could give them, from gentle hints about their future to earth-shattering revelations, played out in my mind.
“Welcome,” I said, letting energy thrum beneath my words. Not the dreamy, ethereal quality I'd once affected, but something deeper, older. “Shall we see what fate has in store?”
The woman's nervous giggle matched my vision of this moment. “We're just here for fun,” she said, but she had fears threading through her—marriage doubts, career anxiety, the quiet terror of an unplanned pregnancy she hadn't told her lover, or her partner, about yet.
I spread the cards with deliberate precision, the metal taste intensified, shadows deepened at my awareness. The hunters were getting closer. They thought they were hunting us.
I turned over the first card. Saw their first meeting in a coffee shop, their fight last week about his mother, the pregnancy test hidden in the bathroom cabinet. Their future spiraled out before me in infinite possibilities, each one clear and distinct in my mind.
“I see—” I began, but then something shifted, a new thread weaving itself into the night.
Blood mixed with mud. Ravens circling. And eyes in the darkness that had finally, after centuries of hunting, found their prey. The hunters hadn't just tracked us—they'd been led here, drawn by chords I was only now beginning to understand.
Candles flickered in perfect synchronization with my vision. The couple remained oblivious, but I felt the timeline bend. Everything was unfolding, what came next was inevitable.
“Your path is marked by change,” I continued, watching their fate intertwine with the approaching danger. “Great joy awaits.” I saw a wedding in spring, a daughter's first steps, years of pain and joy stretching ahead of them. “But not tonight.”
The copper taste of blood filled my mouth. They were here. The hunters had found us.
I didn't sway or falter. Instead, I stood with deliberate grace.
The woman reached for me, concern written across her features. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Everything hit me at once—the hunters slithering through the crowd, Maverick commanding his audience with ignorance of the threat, the wards failing as Lilith had warned us.
“You need to leave,” I confided, my voice carrying just enough influence to compel obedience. “Your story continues elsewhere tonight.”
They left without protest, their departure as choreographed as everything else in this cosmic dance. I remained standing, watching the chords chronicle what was to come. I could warn Maverick. Could shift the pattern, delay the inevitable.
But I'd seen how that ended.
Instead, I waited, knowing just when the shadow would slip into my tent. Knowing precisely what would happen. They hadn't been warnings, after all. They were instructions, showing me how to play my part.
The tent flap opened right on cue, admitting a darkness deeper than night and I smiled, ready to begin the next act.