Page 43 of Chaos Carnival (Cirque de Sanguine #2)

Chapter 42: Sealed Fates

Tess

I sat in my fortune-telling tent, the crystal ball in front of me dark and untouched. The strands danced around me now, countless colored streams that wove through the universe.

As I traced them with my fingertips, their familiar hum over my skin brought goosebumps to my arms. Except now the hum had teeth. Now it had claws. My newfound energy let me see these mystical connections as brilliant ribbons of destiny that could slice through time itself.

The convergence was stunning and severe. Where before the threads had been chaotic possibilities, now they merged into a crystalline lattice of inevitability. Each strand surged with purpose, bleeding colors I had no mortal words to describe. But there, at the edges of my vision—a peculiar absence. Not darkness, not even nothingness, but a void that the threads themselves seemed to flee from.

My hands shifted through the webs in a desperate search for any variation, any tiny divergence that might offer hope. But the more I grasped, the more they mocked me with their crystalline certainty. And that emptiness grew larger, a blind spot in the pattern that made my mind skitter away in instinctive dread.

What if Maverick moved this way? No—that path led to destruction, bodies strewn across my vision.

Stone and Lux combining their strength? The thread snapped like a whip.

Redirecting the forces myself? The threads simply... ended. As if something had severed them, leaving ragged edges that bled into that unsettling void.

The universe shuddered in warning.

My chest constricted as I watched the future lock into place, a single blazing pattern that seared itself into my mind. I brought my fingers to my lips, tasting salt as tears fell.

All my strength, and still I couldn't stop what was coming. That emptiness in the pattern—I told myself it was just my own limitations, my inability to see past certain points. But deep in my bones, I knew it was something else. Something worse.

Moving faster now, I checked the protective sigils I'd woven into the tent's fabric over months, disguised as decorative embroidery. I reinforced the wards at each cardinal point, ending at the northern ward hidden beneath a painted carousel horse.

“Everything's exactly as it should be,” I whispered, adjusting the heavy velvet drapes that separated my tent from the carnival beyond.

“My dear, I've observed enough human nature over centuries to recognize when someone is lying to themselves.” Oscar's crystal skull gleamed from his perch next to a stack of worn tarot cards. “And you, my powerful friend, are practically drowning in denial.”

I traced another ward into the air, watching it shimmer and fade. “Since when did you become so perceptive?”

“I was perceptive long before you were born. Or have you forgotten who wrote 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'? Speaking of pictures, you look absolutely dreadful.”

“Thanks.” I stood from my chair, the ribbons continuing their relentless dance around me.

In my trailer, I retrieved seven sealed envelopes from my vanity's false bottom—one for each member of my family. Weeks of sleepless nights had gone into writing these words I couldn't speak aloud.

The ritual components were last.

I checked each item methodically: black salt from the Dead Sea, grave dirt from Père Lachaise, three crow feathers, a vial of Maverick's blood, taken while he slept, and a lock of my own hair. All pristine, all thrumming with potential.

With one final adjustment, I added three drops of my current blood to the mixture. The components flared with dark forces, recognizing the arcana now coursing inside me. Everything was ready.

I rose from my cushioned seat, the threads rippling around me like a cloak of living darkness. Each step sent whispers echoing through the ground. The gravel crunched as I made my way across carnival grounds, past the empty ticket booth.

The main tent loomed ahead, its crimson and black stripes stark against the twilight sky. Inside, Lilith's commanding voice cut through the air, directing Vera and Luna through their routine. The Sisters of Shadow had raw talent, but Lilith's ancient knowledge would elevate their act.

I pushed aside the heavy canvas flap. The interior was dim except for a circle of floating witch-lights that cast a luminous blue glow over the practice space. Vera hung suspended from a trapeze, her body contorted at an angle, while Luna wove streams of shadow between her fingers like liquid silk.

Lilith stood below them, her arms crossed, radiating waves of demonic energy that made the air thick and heavy. She turned as I approached, her eyes narrowing at whatever was written in the chords that clung to my skin.

“Finally,” Lilith purred in welcome, her voice carrying a hint of knowing. But she didn’t.

I moved into the familiar pull of the performance space. “The ribbons can pin their shadows, make them more than just illusion.”

Vera and Luna paused their practice, both watching me with a mixture of awe and unease. They'd seen what I'd become, but they'd also seen how I could amplify their abilities.

“Show us,” Luna called down, her voice eager despite her nervousness.

I raised my hands, letting the threads spiral out from my fingers like spider silk catching the light. The streams revealed what was coming—blood staining these grounds, screams piercing the night, dark creatures drawn to our performance like moths to flame.

“You manipulate the strands with perfection,” Lilith observed as I wove intricate patterns through the air. The filaments formed geometric traps, invisible to mortal eyes but ready to ensnare the wicked and corrupt. This power felt natural now, no longer the forbidden temptation it had once been. Lilith traced the lines. “They will need to learn both sides of the magic. Not all can handle the duality.”

“We'll teach them,” I said, weaving another trap. “The light reveals the truth, while darkness delivers justice.”

“You've come so far.” Lilith's voice held genuine pride, though I sensed her careful balance between mentor and supplicant. The demon who once filled me with terror now chose her words with delicate precision.

The strands shimmered between my fingers as we choreographed the fatal performance. To mortal eyes, it would appear as an elegant aerial dance. But each movement would scatter seeds of judgment, weave nets of retribution. They would appeal to corrupted souls while leaving the innocent untouched.

Our hands wove an intricate sequence together—a simple midair spiral that would create a vortex, drawing in those who were stained beyond redemption.

“The descent begins here.” I traced the path through the air. “When the music peaks, the threads will activate.” Every move flickered through my mind.

Quick deaths, slow suffering, justice served.

“The movements are precise.” Lilith demonstrated the spiral disguising a killing blow. “The audience will see only beauty.”

How far I'd come from the girl who believed everyone deserved second chances. But my family needed protection. They were worth wielding powers that made even demons tremble.

“When you see all of existence,” I told Lilith as we refined our dance, “you understand that some lines must be cut. The corrupted chords poison everything they touch.”

The old Tess would have been horrified. But she couldn't see what I now knew. That sometimes the kindest act was a swift end to a greater threat.

I watched the Sisters practice their routines, their graceful movements concealing the bloodthirsty tendrils they wove with each turn. “Higher on the spiral, Vera,” I said.

“The thread must catch where the corruption pools in their souls.” Lilith circled them, critical. “Again. Beauty disguises brutality.”

The Sisters repeated their sequence, bodies twisting like ethereal beings. The strands snapped into perfect alignment, creating an invisible net of venomous magic. “Better,” Lilith approved.

Movement caught my eye. Maverick at the tent entrance, his shadows writhing with anxiety. “I can feel you hovering,” I said, continuing my work.

“Can't a man admire his mate's handiwork?” His charm didn't mask his tension. “Even if said handiwork does involve more murder than expected.”

“Don't pretend violence doesn't get you hard, Maverick.” I tested another thread-trap. “This is who I am now.”

“It's who you've always been.” He moved closer.

I caught the mix of pride, fear, and possessiveness in his gaze. “Having second thoughts?”

His chuckle held darkness that made my heart sing. “Sweetheart, my only thoughts are whether I was ever in control.”

The crimson and black weave vibrated as the Sisters continued their bloodthirsty dance, shadows stretching in strange shapes across the sawdust floor.

“Nope. Never.” I kissed his jaw before returning to work. “Tomorrow night, we give mortal evil something to fear.”