Movement No. 17
Yasmeena
It’s been a strange couple of months, but it feels good to finally be performing my sideshow act in Hel’s Carnival again.
Tempest and I have been practicing day in and day out, but now we’re just about ready.
Our last rehearsal is tomorrow, but today Raph assigned me to do lyra at noon, to give me a break from all the trapeze work. Let me clear my head.
Putting the finishing touches on my makeup, I swipe lipstick on as someone enters my tent. Looking over, I expect to see Tempest, but am surprised by Khalid instead.
“Hello sister dearest,” he says, and I turn around to face him.
“What is it?”
He sits down on my bed, directly across from me, and sighs. “When did you know you were ready for marriage?”
At that, I laugh. “When the King of Hel told me he was going to force my little brother into an arranged marriage.”
“Ah, fuck. Fair. When do you think you’d know, if it were real?” There’s a gleam in his eyes, one I don’t often find there, and I just stare at him.
There’s a grown felion here in front of me, but I don’t see him.
All I see is a young boy with tan skin, eyes like liquid gold, and two sets of ears, doing backflips on a dirt-covered road somewhere on Ira.
Our parents stand beside us, watching in awe as I do a split, and my brother and I bow and curtsy before them.
I miss their smiles and their applause, but I do not falter. “You mean when will you know?”
“Draven and Gemma have a child in their care now, and everyone else is married. You’re getting married—”
“Hold the phone. My marriage is a political farce,” I say, interrupting him.
“You know what I mean. Lilian and Baelor are married. It feels like Reina and I are behind, and maybe that’s my fault,” he confesses, his voice a whisper.
“Khalid, you don’t have to get married. You two could just be life partners forever.
You could break up. The planet is vast and there are endless opportunities.
Taryn is uninterested in dating ever, Leo is single right now.
I’m pretty sure Luc is looking for love.
There’s no right or wrong way to be, so just do what is right for you,” I say, trying to sound wiser than I likely am.
“I think I’m afraid of anything permanent because all I’ve ever known is change and death,” he admits, and it hurts my heart, because it’s true.
The government of Ira manipulated the system, forcing the lupion and other species to work difficult jobs without any other viable options.
They gave us no support, no safety nets, just dangerous working conditions and vile levels of mistreatment.
It was a nightmare, but I’m glad it’s over, even if remnants of our trauma remain.
“You are the only one who can write your story, Khalid. If you want a life full of happiness and joy and love, you have to be the one to create it.”
“I’m scared,” he confesses, and it kills me.
“I know, Khalid. I know,” I say, and get up and sit beside him, pulling him in to rest his head on my shoulder.
I take in a deep breath. “We grew up in a cage. It might not have been a physical one, but we were controlled and abused our entire lives. Now that you’re out, don’t force yourself back into one of your own making.
Fear—being afraid to live or love—is an imprisonment of its own. Let love free you.”
“I love you,” he says, and wraps his arms around me.
I give him a tight squeeze. “I love you too. Go plan a proposal, bonehead.”
“Roger that.” Khalid salutes me and exits my tent.
Time to perform.
Maneuvering through camp, I make my way past the gates and out into the main segment of Hel’s Carnival.
There is applause as a small crowd surrounds Lilian.
She’s doing handstands on a platform, her legs splitting in mid air, and Rowan comes and assists me, rolling out the lollipop apparatus.
Like my lyra, it is a giant hoop, but it connects to a stabilized pole rather than hanging from the ceiling.
Lilian finishes her set and I jump onto the hoop, doing various acrobatic poses—Mermaid, cradle, stagseat—ensuring all my choices are family friendly. Nothing provocative.
The Sinner’s Circus is sexy and sinful, violent and provocative, but Hel’s Carnival is just that… a carnival, designed to be fun for the whole family. It predates the sadistic and sexual night show we’ve all come to know and love.
I’m in my element, really giving every pose my all, when I decide to scan the crowd. Lilian stands in a back corner of the crowd. I can barely see her thanks to the tall people leading in the front and middle, including Tempest.
The lupion is in her normal attire. Loose fitting barrel jeans and a tight tank top. Her silvery white hair flows down her shoulders and back, and I want to reach and touch it, but instead I shift into the mermaid pose.
“Do you take requests?” a half-demon shouts from the front row. “Slow down, make it sexy.”
Every hair on my body stands at attention. I continue my performance, moving into the pose, and I watch as Tempest makes her way through the crowd towards the half-demon.
He whistles, but I try my best to ignore it.
“C’mon baby, don’t be such a tease,” he yells, disrupting the show.
Rage simmers in my stomach, but I decide there’s a better way I can handle this. Jumping off the lollipop, I give a polite curtsy. “Could I please get a volunteer from the audience?”
Tempest points to the heckler and shouts. “This dude seems to have a lot of confidence! Let’s see how he does.”
Everyone in the crowd turns to stare at him, and then back up at me.
I give a small smile and gesture that it’s okay for him to join me.
He’s practically salivating at the chance to join me on the platform.
His hair is a bright white, his lack of wings reminding me of Draven, but he doesn’t quite have the charm.
“Do you think you can handle it?” I say, hoping he’ll take the bait. “Most people have to train for months or even years.”
“Oh this is easy.” He exaggerates the last word, a cocky, shit-eating grin lining his features, and my heart practically flutters with excitement.
“Demons and half-demons, hybrids, felion,” I start, and look over at Tempest. “And lupion alike, should I give him a lesson on posing?” I ask, and the audience cheers in response.
He looks excited, like he’s fantasizing me as some sexy teacher, but he has no idea what’s coming next for him.
“What’s your name, sir?”
“Patrick.”
“Well, Patrick, consider this your last trick!” I say and wink.
Carefully, I help him onto the lollipop. His limbs dangle awkwardly from the apparatus, and I try not to laugh as I back away from him.
“Show us mermaid,” I yell loudly, and he frowns.
“Can’t I get something more masculine?” he whispers, hesitant to move.
“Of course! Patrick, show us merman.”
He attempts to copy my movements, but fails miserably and falls directly out of the hoop and onto his ass.
Everybody laughs as this absolute dickbag of a being tries to get back onto the lollipop and falls again. It’s so funny it feels scripted, like a comedy special. The way he persistently chooses to embarrass himself for the sake of pride is something I rarely get to witness, but oh is it satisfying.
Tempest and I lock eyes and it’s as if we’re alone together. The crowd fades away, becoming background noise to what can only be described as our moment. Our story.
It’s truly as if we’re the only ones here.
Tempest can be kind of a bitch sometimes. She’s rude and sardonic to people who’ve earned kindness, but this was different. This asshole deserved every vindictive action we took today, and I enjoyed every second of it.
When we work as a team, even if we’re being manipulative and a little cruel, it feels like magic. My tattoo hums to me in agreement.
Patrick falls off the lollipop again, and this time he’s smart enough not to keep trying. I gesture for him to bow, and he does.
“Enthusiasm without skill is just… noise,” I say, and give my own final curtsy. “Thank you for joining us folks, please enjoy your next side show featuring The Scorpion and The Butterfly!”
Tempest offers me a hand, helping me off the platform, and I take it. Walking away from the crowd, I feel a light tap on the back of my shoulder.
“Can I help you?” I say, a bit clipped as I turn to find Patrick standing before me.
He’s a shorter half-demon, with decently sized horns, but there’s something ridiculous about him. I think it’s his hair—white and fluffy, it reminds me of a dog or perhaps a dust bunny.
“Would you like to go out sometime? We could get coffee, or you could show me some more moves?”
Is he a masochist or just too pea brained to realize I was picking fun at him?
“I don’t—”
“Clearly I need some lessons. Why don’t you come over to my place and show me some moves,” he says, interrupting me. He places a hand on my arm and Tempest swats it away.
“I recommend you never touch or even speak to my fiancé again,” she says and smiles.
She takes my hand in hers and we walk away. This should not be so hot, but it is. The little streak of protectiveness. I know it’s just a part of the act, or maybe she really doesn’t want some creepy dude bothering me, but warmth floods my chest in this primal, sensual way.
It reminds me of the time she bit me, and the way it felt like every nerve in my body became a livewire.
“What a dillweed,” Tempest says after a few beats of silence.
“A total bag of dicks,” I reply, and we lock eyes again, just grinning at one another. “That was fun. I like being a little evil with you.”
“You’re such a nuisance.” She gives my hand a squeeze, and I realize our fingers are still interlocked. The soft, warm fur of her hand in mine gives me comfort. A beautiful nuisance.