Movement No. 16
Tempest
My father walks towards me, there’s a feral sort of rage in his eyes, and I can feel the tears streaming down my cheeks as he slaps me square in the face and I fall to the ground.
“What did you do?” he asks, his voice projecting through every inch of the den.
“I don’t know, Dad, I don’t know,” I answer, and I can feel that it’s the truth. I have no idea what he’s accusing me of.
“Do not ever call me that again. I am your Alpha first, your father second.”
My hand reaches up to touch my swollen cheek. “I’m sorry, Alpha.”
He spits on the wooden floorboard beside my foot, and I look down at the aerial shoes on my little feet. My vision goes blurry, my body feeling like I’m in a drunken haze. My limbs are heavy, my movements slow, and I’m so so tired.
Jolting awake, I open my eyes and understanding dawns on me. It was just a bad dream. I have them a lot. Bad dreams, nightmares, even night terrors. The kind where you wake up screaming and frantic.
A lot of my childhood feels like I blacked out, like my brain is trying to scribble permanent marker over the memory. It leaves me with a lot of unanswered questions. I don’t know if these dreams are figments of my imagination, or if they’re memories I’ve suppressed over the years.
As I get up and get dressed, I try not to think about it. Exiting my tent, I cross towards the metal fence, hoping Taryn is back from her trip, though nobody mentioned it.
Heading towards the river’s edge, where the water slows like candle wax, I wait for Taryn. The forest line presses close to the other side, the trees leaning against one another, the land and water move as though they’re taking deep, slow breaths.
Taryn sticks her head out of the water, her blue hair slicked-back against her neck, and she runs her fingers through it before smiling.
“Hey. I heard a lupion child joined the carnival yesterday,” Taryn says, not quite probing, but obviously curious.
“Yeah,” I say. “His name is Nico. Gemma and Draven are going to be caring for him.”
“Well that’s kind of exciting. Why do you look so… strange?”
I shrug, looking out past the river and into the forest. There’s a faun not far from here, still within eyesight, and I watch it frolic. “I don’t know, I guess I just don’t know how to deal with all of this.”
“I mean, I don’t think much is expected from you?”
“I feel like he should learn about the lupion,” I say. “He should learn how to hunt and hear about our customs.”
Her brows draw in, her head cocking to the side. “So why didn’t you offer to be his caretaker if you felt so strongly?”
“Because I didn’t want the responsibility.” My tone is clipped, a thousand thoughts rushing to the surface of my mind. Because I have to be Alpha. Because I already care too much.
“That’s fair, I wouldn’t either, but you can still teach him things. You’re going to be like… his cool aunt!” she says, a smile spreading from ear-to-ear.
I want to tell her how impossible that will be—that once I complete my mission, nobody here will ever want to speak to me again, much less allow me around their children, but instead I nod. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Could he meet the rest of your pack?”
I shake my head, wishing the situation were different. “Probably not. Our Alpha isn’t a big fan of outsiders.”
“Your father?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Does he feel more like your father or more like your Alpha?” Taryn jumps out of the water and sits beside me, the end of her tail still softly splashing.
“My Alpha, for sure.”
“I don’t know much about lupion, but is that odd? Is it that the Alpha role is so much more important that it overrides familial relationships?” She sounds genuinely curious.
“I’m not sure, I only know how things are within Pack Escalus. My father just never really did anything fatherly, y’know?” I say, and her eyes go solemn.
“He never took you to his favorite caverne tree and showed you all the roots you can swim through?”
“Taryn,” I say, and fight back a laugh. “I am not a mermaid. I am a wolf.”
“Right. Well.” She twiddles her thumbs. “He never took you to go running through the woods, howling at our twin moons? Or like… watched one of your baseball games or something?”
“No, he did not. He was always busy helping others. Whenever he did have time for me, it was used for training. We’d do body conditioning, mixed martial arts, and even sometimes develop war plans, but never baseball.
Never just howling at the moons for fun.
Everything was always for a specific purpose. ”
“That’s really sad. I’m sorry.”
I crack my knuckles. “Don’t be. I’m grateful to be the daughter of an Alpha. I have a lot of pride in it,” I say.
The sun is high in the sky, causing the water below us to sparkle, and I watch as fish swim by.
“Where did you go, by the way?”
“Oh! I went to visit my parents,” she answers.
“You were gone for a while.”
“Yeah,” she says and smiles. “They live in a small lake on Gula. It’s pretty far away.”
“You didn’t tell me you were leaving.” I’m not mad at her. I mean, how could I be when there’s so much I’m hiding?
“You didn’t ask.”
Ouch. I deserve that one. “I’m sorry, I feel like I haven’t been the greatest friend.”
“I’m not upset. You seem to really care, or at least you’re curious about all of us, but you’re stuck in the past. Constantly asking about people’s history or things that happened long ago.
You might make more friends at the carnival if you started asking about the present.
What are people’s dreams and aspirations, our skills and hobbies. Stuff like that, you know?”
She’s right. And it would likely help my overall goal here, too.
“So what do you do for fun?” I ask, giving her advice a shot.
“I like weaving. I have this tool called a loom; it helps me make large things, like blankets and tapestries. I know it doesn’t really translate well into the water, but I enjoy it all the same,” she says, and I can’t help but smile.
“I’d love to see it sometime. Maybe you can teach me.”
There’s some rustling in a nearby bush, and Yasmeena pops her head around a corner. “Hey, sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt, but Absinthe is looking for us.”
“Go on. We’ll catch up more later,” Taryn says, and I smile and nod as I follow Yasmeena back towards camp.
We walk up the river bank, back towards the fence line, the tents all in view, and enter into the main part of camp. The lights of the carnival, and the sounds of children playing and people laughing, are all present in the near distance.
It’s overwhelmingly calming, the way this place is beginning to feel like home, but it also terrifies me.
The ephemeralness of it all. And I want to leave.
I want to be home with my pack. I want to hang out with Zuri and Clio.
I want to run The Cathedral, and most importantly, I want to take over as Alpha.
But I also want to take pieces of this place with me when I go. The ring Absinthe made me. A rock from the river I spoke to Taryn beside. The feeling of Yasmeena’s body pressed against mine—
“Princess,” Yasmeena says, breaking me from my thoughts.
“Yes, nuisance?” I respond, and she squints at me as we continue walking through camp.
“Thank you for being patient with me after Roxanne’s death. It shook me to my core, but I appreciate that you gave me time to grieve and didn’t push me about rehearsals.”
It’s a level of vulnerability I didn’t expect, and warmth floods my chest. “Of course. Besides, you’re a fantastic aerialist. It’ll be fine.”
“I know we will,” she says, and places a hand on the back of my arm, giving it a light squeeze. Her touch sends shivers down my body. “But I still wanted to thank you. This agreement isn’t easy for me, so I can’t imagine how it feels for you.”
I nod. “It’s fine. Let’s just make the best of it.”
A disheveled Una storms down the walkway, followed by Rowan, whose whole body is tense.
“Una, go back and apologize to your mother right now,” he says, and she stops in her tracks.
“Dude, she was being a bitch about me not cleaning my room, I told her I’m an adult and I’ll do what I want. It’s not that deep.”
“What did you just call her?”
I don’t know Rowan personally, but he’s been nothing but chuckles and smiles since I’ve arrived. He’s clearly a family man, and he’s Taryn’s performance partner, so I’ve developed a mild respect for him.
I have never seen him this mad. I have never seen him mad, period.
They continue arguing as they pass us, the father-daughter duo clearly up in arms as Rowan goes over her consequences. Yasmeena and I continue walking as well, both of our eyes as wide as saucers.
“You will never speak about my wife like that again,” is the last thing we hear him say before we round a corner until we’re outside Absinthe’s workshop.
“Remind me to never piss him off,” I say, and Yasmeena shakes her head, shock still radiating off of us.
“She’s in such a mood lately.” Yasmeena crosses her arms and rolls her eyes, upcurling her lip and nose into the best impression of Una imaginable.
“I think she’s pissed they won’t let her work The Sinner’s Circus yet, but she’s too young,” I say and Yasmeena nods.
“Agreed.”
“Brat,” we both say in tandem and then let out a burst of laughter, and I’m once again reminded of how easy it is to get along with her when I allow myself to let go.
Enjoying my fiancé’s presence isn’t a crime. As long as I stick to my mission, maybe it’s okay to enjoy a stolen moment every once in a while.
We step inside, and Absinthe looks like a madwoman. There are pins strewn about the workbench, and strips of fabric covering the floor. She smiles as we make eye contact and gestures for both of us to stand on adjacent platforms.
I oblige, stepping onto the small wooden box.
“Hold still,” Absinthe says, pulling a tape measurer around my waist.
I huff a strand of hair from out of my face and try my best not to move. “What are we here for exactly?”
“I need to fit both of you for your costumes.” Absinthe marks some numbers down on her piece of paper. “Do you like corsets?”
“Not particularly. Not great for movement.”
“Hmm. Okay, step off. I’ll have to make you something flexible. Would you prefer blue or green?”
“Blue,” I answer, and look over to where Yasmeena is still standing, her golden eyes shimmering back up at me.
“I will have something finished for you in the next few hours,” Absinthe says, and turns to Yasmeena. She grabs a small pile of fabric off the table and hands it to her. “Here, try this on.”
I turn and close my eyes as Yasmeena undresses. I hear the distinct sound of a zipper, and anticipation somersaults in my stomach.
“You can turn around,” Absinthe says, and when I do, my heart rate spikes.
Yasmeena looks heavenly. The black bodysuit sparkles against the bright, golden brown of her skin. One of her arms is exposed, the other covered in a clear mesh, her legs dressed in the same sheer material. It hugs every curve, showcases every muscle, and I want to drink her in.
I’m desperate to get my hands on her, but instead I nod.
“You look great,” I say, because it’s all I can manage to muster; my mind a muddled mess.
Absinthe continues marking down measurements. I can’t help but feel jealous of every touch—every moment her fingertips brush Yasmeena’s skin.
“Do you like weapons?” Absinthe asks, her eyes a little crazed as she places a pin in the fabric next to Yasmeena’s hip bone.
“Eh,” I answer honestly. “I have claws and magic, what good are swords?”
“Don’t forget teeth,” Yasmeena says, biting her lower lip.
I know it wasn’t meant to be sexual. Hel, it wasn’t meant to be anything, but the motion drives me wild, and I force myself into a more appropriate headspace.
“I like bats and clubs,” Absinthe shares, her eyes wide with mischief, and she walks across the room to jot something down.
I’m not trying to make more friends here, but I’m definitely not trying to be friends with this strange jester.
“What is wrong with her?” I ask, my voice hardly a whisper.
Yasmeena smiles. “She’s the other Executioner. I think she’s just getting into the right headspace for her job later tonight.”
I nod, but I can’t help how all the warmth and joy seems to leave my body at once.
At that cruel reminder, my blood runs cold.
Reina had already shared this with me, but hearing those words from Yasmeena’s mouth is somehow harder.
The fact that she is so close to Absinthe and Reina, knowing what they did to Tyrus, makes her complicit in his death.
It’s important that I remember she’s one of them, especially in the moments where she starts to feel like mine.
No matter how many times I might laugh or enjoy the company of these carnies, they are not my friends, and I have to keep my distance. Maybe not physically, but emotionally. I can’t care for them anymore than I’ve started to.
Not if I’m going to succeed.