RISE FOR ME
Roman froze in the middle of the carnival, staring at the rides and booths being assembled, wrench in his hand. Mariah’s voice whispered in his mind, speaking his name. That couldn’t be right. She hadn’t called to him in years.
“What’s wrong?”
Lizzie asked at his side.
“Nothing.”
“You’ve acted strange all evening.”
“Preoccupied. The equipment is old, requiring constant repairs. Some parts aren’t even made anymore.”
Lizzie scoffed. “You’re avoiding my question.”
“I thought she called to me, Lizzie.”
Lizzie glanced at the moon. “The prophecy. It’s close to the harvest moon.”
“The prophecy is a lie. She’s a lie.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Roman, but it’ll never be true.”
He frowned at his greasy hands. “It doesn’t matter now.”
Lizzie laid one hand on his shoulder before turning for the carousel. “It matters, Roman, and you know it. She matters more than anyone, and you matter to her.”
“If I mattered so damn much, why’d she run off? It’s been years since she came to the carnival.”
He marched toward the carousel, hoping his sister would take the hint, but that was wishful thinking.
“You should go to her, Roman.”
“No.”
“You should tell her, Roman.”
“Hell no.”
“She wouldn’t have called to you if she hadn’t figured it out.”
“Leave it alone, Lizzie. It’s none of your business.”
Lizzie threw her hands in the air. “You’re the most stubborn vampire on the planet.”
“And you’re the nosiest.”
His sister backed away, smirking, nodding at the moon. “You can’t stop it.”
He said nothing, knowing she was right, and hating her, himself, and Mariah for it. How many harvest moons had passed without her return? He gave up on Mariah long ago.
“Hey, Roman. The motor won’t engage,”
a mechanic yelled.
After stepping onto the wooden platform, he made his way to the center pole, concealing the engine. “It’s probably the belt,”
he grumbled. “There’s a few more in the trailer.”
“I’ll get it,”
the young mechanic, one of his recent stragglers, offered.
Once the new belt was installed, Roman remained on the carousel while his helper powered it up. His gaze lifted to the golden lights, and the wheel turning without issue, but lowered to find several members from the carnival’s coven watching him.
“I don’t want to hear it,”
he yelled over the music, glaring at their blank expressions.
On the next pass, one of them tossed a ruby stone to him. “You can’t ignore this, Roman Lee.”
With the next rotation, the witches had vanished, and he sighed in relief. If Mariah arrived, he’d ignore her. She could try to contact him all she wanted, but he wouldn’t answer, and he never wanted to see her haunting face again.
His tormentor.
The reason he existed.
His soulmate in this dreadful life.
Mariah was the reason his dead heart thumped again, and she was the reason it withered away until it was barely detectable.
And it was his fault. He opened his heart to a child who became the woman he’d do anything to claim, and he cast a spell that bound them together for eternity.
“Dammit,”
he seethed, shifted instantaneously to a bat, flying into the night sky, not caring who might see only to land outside her old window, hoping for a glimpse of the woman who held his heart in his palm, but she wasn’t there.
There was nothing quite like coming home after eight years away at college and accepting a position in Chicago, even if it took two days to recover from the drive. The sights and the memories flooded the mind in a familiar symphony only heard by those who wanted to listen. Caro was a small town, barely boasting one thousand residents, but it was familiar, and it was here that she first met Roman.
Mariah Stone savored every vibrant color and each face while strolling along the worn sidewalk from her parents’ home. Some she knew, and some were strangers, but all seemed to welcome her with timid smiles. It’s funny how you appreciate life, and everything about it, only near the end.
Even though her mother and father wintered in Florida, she preferred the restored Victorian she grew up in. She glanced over her shoulder with a whimsical smile at the white-shuttered, ocean-blue-painted, three-story home. The wide front porch beckoned with a hanging swing meant for bare feet dragging on the wooden planks. Colorful rose bushes and large shade trees made the home feel magical and romantic even with the leaves covering the ground.
With a deep sigh, Mariah continued her leisurely stroll. Her eyes lifted to the darkening sky as pale light fell across her slightly upturned face. It was an odd thing to bask in the moonlight and enjoy its coolness, but there was something about that yellow disc she loved. Her soul belonged to the night and always had. It was the time for peace, gentle breezes, fireflies, and cricket song, and it was Roman’s time.
Cement sidewalks gave way to a narrow dirt path leading into a normally barren field, but not on this night. Bright lights spun and twinkled from a gigantic Ferris wheel, the Scrambler, and the rainbow Tilt-A-Whirl rides marking the edges of the town carnival. Booths with strings of neon lights dominated the middle, offering games and refreshments.
Mariah smiled and inhaled deeply as the fragrant aroma of popcorn, hot dogs, and nachos reached her. She could see rows of puffy cotton candy in light pinks, purples, and peach suspended from a string. Her mouth salivated, craving the caramel or candied apple she knew was close by, but would probably make her sick.
Mariah tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear and chuckled to herself. She was insane, laughing at her illness and taunting death.
Her feet moved faster until she took her place in the line of patrons waiting to purchase their tickets. Children giggled in anticipation and pointed at the rides in awe, their enthusiasm infectious, reminding Mariah of her own youth. A squeal from a group of girls on the Ferris wheel caused everyone to lift their faces to the sky and adults to grin and laugh.
Maybe that was the magic of the carnival for most? It drew people like a magnet from towns miles away, but it wasn’t what held Mariah in its clutches. Something darker, deadly, and unbelievable lurked in the shadows. They called him the ringmaster, a man from another time, who made his home within the carnival’s circular boundary.
The ringmaster could be a friend, an enemy, a lover, or maybe all three living within the false security of the tents, rides, and games. He remained hidden during the daylight hours and only showed his handsome face by night, but sometimes a shiver ran along the spine as the silhouette of a man passed along the wooden structures.
Mariah knew him well and bore the evidence of that friendship in one wide streak of black that stood out prominently against her wheat-blonde hair. Her lips twitched, and she tugged her ball-cap lower. It wasn’t her hair that bothered her, but the sadness and anger that threatened to overwhelm her heart. He hadn’t answered when she called to him, and guilt plagued her along with this never-ending nausea.
Roman Lee brought something to her soul she couldn’t escape, and his striking features stayed in the back of her mind. His Romani ways beckoned her to come to him, to come home, but rage tempered that dark calling for years until it stopped altogether.
She forced herself to stay away as long as she could, traveling the world and finishing college at her parents’ insistence, but her heart always returned to the carnival and to Roman. He held a piece of her soul, and she wanted it back, no matter the consequences, before she left this world. It would be best for him and for her.
With apprehension, Mariah approached the window of the small, yellow booth to purchase her ticket, withdrawing cash from the front pocket of her white denim shorts. When the kind face of a familiar friend raised the window with a smile, the nervousness momentarily fled, and the tenseness in her shoulders eased. She slid her money through the window, but it was quickly returned.
“Don’t be silly. You’re a friend to everyone here, and the ringmaster would feed me to the lions.”
Mariah laughed at her old friend’s antics. Lizzie had been with the carnival as long as she could remember and was Roman’s only sister. She was a petite woman with dark hair and green eyes, just like her brother, but that ended their similarities. Where Lizzie exuded warmth and welcome, Roman radiated guardedness and mistrust.
The responsibility he carried and the things he’d seen turned Roman Lee into someone not to trifle with, but Mariah knew his softer side. She’d seen it a thousand times in the way he cared for the people of the carnival and the way he once cared for her. She glanced at the rides before turning back to Lizzie. “Is he here?”
Lizzie’s shoulders slumped as deep as the frown on her red lips. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you deserve to know.”
Lizzie leaned out the window to make sure no one else waited in line, then wiggled her finger for Mariah to step closer. “He only rises to feed, and not nearly as much as he should. We are all concerned about him.”
Mariah’s brow furrowed with worry. “Is he sick?”
Lizzie shook her head and crossed her arms over her ample breasts. “You know he never gets sick.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
Mariah asked, already knowing the answer.