Chapter 9 Wren
Wren
Icarefully slid out of Amélie’s bed, trying not to wake her—or any of our other bunkmates, and after slipping my feet into a pair of trainers, I eased open the door of the motorhome. Outside, the night air was cool on my overheated skin, raising goosebumps along my arms.
The moon was bright, lighting my way as I drifted past the fairground rides that had been set up this morning ready for tomorrow’s crowds, towards the circle that had been prepared earlier. The circle where the Chosen would face judgement tomorrow night.
Tomorrow, he would die. By my choice, he had been Chosen. His blood would stain the ground beneath my feet, and I would be the one who ended him.
Did that make me a monster?
The cirque had always felt like justice to me. We hunted those who slipped through the cracks of the legal system, those who hurt the innocent and walked free. We were the last resort for the voiceless, the forgotten, the ones society had failed.
But this was different. This was personal. This was nothing like the time my temporary guardian had been Chosen.
This was me facing my worst nightmare.
This was my vengeance.
I sank to the ground, splaying my palm over the cold, damp earth.
A body appeared in my peripheral vision, and Florin gracefully lowered himself down beside me, drawing his knees up to his chest. In the moonlight, he looked even more angelic and innocent than usual.
But I’d seen what those delicate hands could do with a knife.
I’d watched the joy on his face as he carved into flesh.
“What are you doing out here so late at night, little bird?”
“I can’t sleep. Thinking about tomorrow.”
“Mmm. Your first real kill.” He cocked his head, studying me with his bright blue eyes. “Are you excited?”
“Excited? No. I don’t…I don’t even know how I feel.”
He reached out and placed his hand on top of mine, pressing it into the soil. “You can feel them here. All the ones who came before. Our Chosen. We feed the earth with their wickedness and water it with their blood, and the earth gives back to us.”
I had no idea what he was saying, but I guessed it was his own twisted form of comfort.
Glancing over at him, I bit down on my lip. “What if choosing to kill him makes me just as much of a monster as him?”
Florin laughed lightly. “We’re all monsters here. But we’re the very best kind of monsters.” He patted my hand. “And tomorrow, you’ll show him that you’re the monster he should have been afraid of all along.”
“Will it fix me? Watching him die? Will it get rid of the poison inside me?”
Florin was uncharacteristically quiet for a long moment, holding himself completely still. “No,” he said finally. “It won’t fix you. Do you know why?”
I shook my head, and his serious expression was instantly wiped away as he gave me a bright grin. “Because there’s nothing to fix. You’re one of us. There’s no poison in you. You’re pure.”
Nothing to fix. No poison. His words were stated as simple facts, and something in me clicked into place. Maybe it really was that simple.
I spoke honestly. “I believe you. I think. I suppose I…I’m scared of what might happen tomorrow. Of what it might do to me.”
His brows pulled together, his lips curving into a pout as he parsed through my words, but then he gasped, placing his free hand over his heart. “I’ve had the best idea!”
I stared at him, unsure how to react to his obvious excitement. I’d only ever seen this expression on his face when he was carving up the Chosen.
Saving me from a response, he shot me another bright grin, flashing his teeth, before he continued.
“You don’t have to be scared. Don’t worry about the ending part.
I’ll take care of that. I’ll make sure my favourite knives are nice and sharp and shiny, so I can do my very best work.
I want everything to be perfect for you.
All you need to do is bring the poison.”
“Poison?” My voice faltered. “Y-you said there was no poison in me.”
“There isn’t any in you.” His sweet voice softened to a deadly purr. “But as for our Chosen…”