Page 3 of The Lady and the Lion (Victorian Outcasts #9)

three

L ion Boy slumped on the floor of the cage at the end of the day’s last performance.

Another exhausting day had ended, leaving him sore, thirsty, and spent. He had only a moment of peace before voices and footsteps came from behind him. He didn’t even stir. He would recognise Cade’s booming tone and Murdock’s uneven steps everywhere.

Cade unlocked the cage, smirking. “Grabbing that man was a great idea. You’ll do it again tomorrow. The crowd went crazy.”

What man? He barely remembered anything about each performance aside from the pain, the anger, and the laughing faces.

No, that was a lie.

He remembered a young woman with hair the colour of a raven’s feathers and the eyes like a quiet lake. She’d been the first person ever to talk to him as if he were a human being. Although he wasn’t. He didn’t even have a name.

Or perhaps she was the product of his hallucinations. He had no idea. Maybe he’d only dreamt of a beautiful lady feeling compassion for him. Yet he remembered her asking him questions.

“Quickly.” Murdock staggered closer. “You need your drugs, and I don’t have all evening.”

The lights from the oil lamps glinted off his bald head. Short and with a bad leg, he shouldn’t be difficult to beat in a fight. Lion Boy towered over him a good foot and a half. But the sheer terror Murdock triggered in him paralysed him.

Cade was a violent, greedy man but stupid.

Murdock—the circus’s physician—had both the brains and the coldness to be dangerous.

Oftentimes, Lion Boy wondered who the real ringmaster was.

Cade might be just another Murdock’s slave, the face of the organisation, while Murdock was the puppeteer working in the darkness.

“Crawl out.” Murdock waved him closer, showing him a glass bottle.

Lion Boy’s senses heightened as he rushed to grab the magic potion that would take the pain away.

Cade winced. “Disgusting.”

Murdock hid the bottle behind his back. “Cade is right. Manners, you cur.”

Lion Boy wanted to tell him he was too tired to play games, but only a pathetic whimper came out of him.

“Beg.”

He slammed a hand on the rough wooden planks of the cage in protest.

Murdock’s slap hit him across the cheek. When the effects of the drugs wore off, his skin was left extremely sensitive and tender. Lion Boy’s face burned with pain.

Tears welled in his eyes. He joined his hands and hung his head, begging his tormentor to torment him.

Cade shook his head. “You don’t have a spine.”

“Good boy.” Murdock tossed him the bottle, and Lion Boy barely snatched it before it hit the ground, his reflexes sloppy.

He drank the content with one sip, already anticipating the relief washing over him.

It took time before the pain vanished. He waited for relief. His muscles loosened, and his head cleared right before he dropped asleep on the floor.

He woke up with a start as one of the other circus workers shook him. Maybe it was dawn, or maybe it was still night. He didn’t care. Time didn’t have a meaning.

“Lion, come on. You have work to do.”

Lion Boy shuffled out of the cage to the corner of the tent where there was a water basin.

The chain locked around his ankle rattled with his steps.

A few attempts at escaping in the past had earned him the inseparable iron companion.

Murdock removed the shackle before a performance and put it back afterwards.

He quickly washed, ignoring the bite of the icy cold water, and put on a fresh shirt long enough to cover him to his knees. The shackle prevented him from wearing trousers.

In the part of the main tent that was designated as the circus workers’ kitchen and canteen, he wolfed down two cups of tea, a few slices of bread, and bacon. The others filed out, saying good night to each other and ignoring him.

He was a circus freak inside a circus of freaks.

The chain was several feet long to allow him to do his chores, but it got stuck every two minutes, forcing him to retrace his steps.

As he scrubbed the dirty plates and mugs left by the others, his mind conjured up the clear blue eyes of the young woman. Her name was…no, he didn’t remember. Or she hadn’t told him.

Hell, she wasn’t real. His mind wasn’t trustworthy. With all the weird potions Murdock gave him, his brain had to be like gelatine.

Murdock’s laughter echoed from the other side of the canvas wall. Of course, the swine was happy. He must have earned heaps of pounds today.

The chatter and laughter of the workers came as they headed to their caravans to rest before another performance.

He looked forward to leaving London. The days spent travelling from one city to the next were more bearable than the performances. At least he didn’t have to see the faces of those people who laughed at him or stared at him in horror.

The chain clinked when he went to scrub the benches.

He gnashed his teeth as his muscles burned.

Complaining or asking for a potion to numb the pain would only grant him another beating from Cade.

Besides, Murdock had to be in his caravan by now, ready to go to bed.

If Lion Boy disturbed him, he would starve him again.

When he finished with the dishes, he knelt to sweep the floor from the mess of leftover food.

A noise like a rustle came from the other side of the canvas wall closest to him. He paused and listened. Nothing.

Sometimes thieves crept inside, searching for money. Good luck. There was nothing Murdock protected more fiercely than money. He was also a crack shot, and Cade was a fierce fighter.

A thief wouldn’t realise what had hit him. Not to mention Murdock’s knowledge of drugs, potions, and medicinal herbs. He knew how to poison someone.

Another noise made Lion Boy stop again. It could be a rat trying to sneak inside the tent. Except the noise grew in intensity. Whatever was crawling towards him was bigger than a rat. A whiff of kerosene hit his nose.

He walked towards the source of the noise. Soft voices reached his ears. He lifted the flap and froze.

A woman’s face appeared. Not just any woman, but the raven-haired young beauty he’d seen during the last performance. The smell of kerosene wafted from her.

She was half-crouched, her head tilted back to stare up at him. He hadn’t hallucinated. She was real, blue eyes and all. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Relieved, confused, with his foggy memory, worried perhaps. If he’d done something to her, hurt her, he would never forgive himself.

Her large sapphire eyes widened. For a moment, they only stared at each other with equal shock and surprise.

Then she straightened, brushing dirt from her coat. “It’s me. Vivienne,” she whispered. A hood partially hid her features but didn’t hide her princess-like looks. Judging by her fine clothes and perfect speech, she had to be wealthy.

“I promised I would help.” She looked down and covered her gasp with a hand when she noticed the chain. “He chained you!”

He nodded, failing to understand her shock. Perhaps the drugs numbed his feelings as well.

“What?” An older woman with flaming red hair stuck her head inside. She gave him a quick, assessing glance. Her mouth hung open. “Good Lord.”

“I told you he needed help, Dobkins.”

Dobkins was breathing hard. “Why are you chained?”

“He doesn’t talk. He can’t answer.” Vivienne faced him. “Can you write down your name?”

Writing? He shook his head. Besides, the whole situation was so bizarre he wouldn’t be able to write anything, even if he’d known how.

“You can’t write?” Dobkins seemed more shocked by that piece of information than by the chain or his wild looks.

“Bother.” Vivienne put her hands on her hips. “How can we communicate? We must think of something.”

“You must be joking. We don’t have time.” Dobkins tugged at Vivienne’s hand. “We should leave.”

Vivienne didn’t budge. “They force you to stay here, don’t they?”

He nodded.

“You aren’t happy.”

It took him a moment to answer. Not because he didn’t know the answer, but because it was the first time someone had asked him about how he felt and if he was happy.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. No one cared about him. He was nothing more than a tool for Murdock to make money.

The realisation wasn’t anything new, but Vivienne’s compassion and worry made him see himself through her eyes. And the sight wasn’t pretty.

Once, one of the workers had got a nasty cut during a performance but hadn’t realised until someone had pointed out the blood. That was how he, Lion Boy, felt.

“You are terribly unhappy.” Vivienne stared into his eyes…her expression of pain echoed his pain.

He’d never met someone who understood his suffering.

“This is awful,” Dobkins said.

He nodded and mouthed slowly, “Hate it.”

Vivienne’s eyebrows drew together. “You hate it here.”

He nodded and returned her stare to make her understand better the depths of his pain.

When a clear tear slid down her cheek, he was sure he would drown in it.

“We’ll take you out of here.” Her voice cracked.

“Lady Vivienne,” Dobkins whispered.

Vivienne faced her, her fists clenched. “We must.”

Lady? She was indeed an aristocrat.

“You can’t promise him anything,” Dobkins said. “You can’t give him false hope. That’s cruel.”

“No.” Vivienne wiped her tears quickly. “No false hope. I’ll find a way to help him.” She grabbed his rough, ruined hand, leaving him breathless.

Her soft skin was like petals against his calloused palm. His heart pounded faster. His eyesight sharpened. Too many things that had never happened to him were happening at the same time.

“I promise. You’ll leave this awful place and be free.” Determination shone in her gaze.

Her solemn tone filled him with hope.

For one wonderful second.

Then reality hit him. She would never be able to free him. He’d tried to escape and failed. Murdock was too cunning and ruthless. Cade was too strong. Deceiving Murdock, or worse, stealing from him, was impossible. His friends were thugs as ruthless as he was.

He was Lion Boy. He slid his hand out of hers and waved them away.

“I’ll find a way,” Vivienne whispered.

They were kind to worry about him, but he had to be honest with himself. They would never help him. There was nothing they could do for him.

He waved them away again, raising his eyebrows.

“We must leave,” Dobkins said.

Vivienne hesitated. She reached out, and her gentle touch on his wrist sent a powerful jolt of emotion through him. “I promise.”

Right then, at that moment, he believed her.