Chapter 11
Jack
I have a mate. Me. I have a mate. And even more than that, I have a claimed mate who is wearing my mark.
Did I ever think I would have a mate? No. Did I want a mate? I'm not sure. I guess when you figure you'll never have one, you don't want one. But now that I have one, I'm thrilled. And I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure she's safe and taken care of.
I'd just claimed Kai as my mate less than two hours ago, and every instinct I had was screaming at me to go back to that tent and never leave her side. But I had business to attend to. Important business.
I stood positioned near the stage in the big tent alongside my so-called brothers, waiting for the show that would either set Kai free or get us both killed.
My hand kept drifting to my chest, touching the spot where her phoenix mark burned into my skin. Even through my shirt, I could feel it—a constant warmth that reminded me she was mine and I was hers. Mated. Bonded. Connected in primal ways.
"You alright?" Swinger wandered over to me. He and I were assigned to the big tent tonight. "You look like you're about to shift and rip the roof off this place."
"Do I?" I growled, forcing myself to appear calm even though my gorilla was pacing inside my skull, demanding I find our mate and protect her. I shook out my arms. "Just anxious, I guess."
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't too." He leaned forward and looked around us. "Truth, this place gives me the creeps. I'll be glad when this assignment's over."
The big tent was just starting to fill up for the VIP show.
Rows of plush chairs had been set up for the VIP guests—rich assholes in expensive suits and designer dresses, all holding champagne flutes and murmuring to each other with that particular brand of excited silliness rich people had when they knew they were richer than everyone else in the building.
"Did you hear about Leaper?"
"No." I didn't want to say what my head was saying. Who gives a shit what happened to Leaper?
"That orange clown blew some of that dust at a lady, and the wind caught it and blew it into Leaper's face.
He was right next to the lady. Dude went silent, just stared straight ahead.
Mortis told Fang it sometimes happens and Leaper would just have to wait for the effects to wear off.
In the meantime, that weird ass said to have some fun with him.
So, Fang made Leaper walk around like a chicken.
" Swinger laughed. "He was crowing and flapping his arms. It was hilarious. "
I knew if I didn't laugh, Swinger would think something was really up. I forced out a laugh.
"I'm sorry I missed seeing that."
"Yeah, that's some messed-up shit. Like I said, I'll be glad when this is over."
"Me too, pal. Me too."
Swinger nodded and continued on with his patrol. I stayed right where I was.
I glanced across the tent, and there, of course, standing right at the front near the VIPs, were President Silver and Fang.
Those two always had to be in the middle of things.
That way, it's easier to take credit when things went right.
Also easier to blame others when they didn't. The President's eyes kept scanning the tent, calculating, planning.
Fang stood beside him with his arms crossed, his filed teeth glinting in the spotlight.
Peering around, I saw the other Silverbacks were scattered throughout the crowd, positioned as Fang had ordered.
I touched the pocket where my two bullets rested, feeling their weight. Kai's phoenix fire and human essence woven together into the only weapon that could kill Mortis. I'd loaded them into my gun before taking my post, replacing two regular rounds Fang had given me for tonight's chaos.
The lights dimmed, and the crowd's chatter died down.
Here we go.
Mortis glided onto the stage from the shadows, his presence immediately commanding every eye in the tent.
He was in his normal form, moving with that unnatural grace.
The small skulls on his hat clinked softly as he moved.
His enormous black eyes seemed to glow in the spotlight.
Once he was in the middle of the ring and the spotlight was on him, I saw a different side of him.
Mortis the showman. I felt like I wanted to shoot him there and then.
"Ladies and gentlemen," his goosebump-producing voice carried through the tent.
"Welcome to the Carnival of Shadows. I am Ringmaster Mortis.
" The crowd cheered. Mortis took a small bow.
"Thank you, thank you." He held up a hand, and the crowd quieted.
"Tonight's show will be truly something to see. I hope you enjoy our first act..."
The crowd leaned forward, captivated.
"First," Mortis gestured toward the side entrance with theatrical flair, "I present to you... the Serpent Sisters!"
Two women slithered onto the stage—and I do mean slithered.
From the waist down, they were covered in scales that gleamed emerald and gold under the lights, their bodies moving with a fluidity that was distinctly reptilian.
They carried massive pythons wrapped around their shoulders, but as they began their performance, I realized the snakes weren't props—they were extensions of the women themselves.
The serpents moved in perfect synchronization with their handlers, weaving patterns in the air that hurt to look at directly, their scales forming hypnotic spirals.
The sisters danced and swayed to the captivating music.
I closed my eyes and pinched my nose, convinced their hypnotic movements were to get the crowd in a mindset.
And the way I was feeling, I knew I was right.
When I opened my eyes, I saw Swinger doing the same thing.
Peering into the crowd, I saw other Silverbacks were like us.
Our gorillas must have helped keep us from being mesmerized.
The women bent backwards impossibly far, their spines seeming to have extra vertebrae, while the pythons coiled around their bodies in living knots.
The crowd gasped and applauded, more enthusiastically than needed, when the women's act ended.
Next came the fire jugglers—twin men with goat legs and curved horns who tossed flaming torches between them while playing haunting melodies on pan pipes.
The music wove through the tent like smoke, making my gorilla uneasy.
There was magic in those notes, something old and wild that made the air shimmer.
I hummed to myself to keep from listening to them. That was until I heard Mortis' voice announcing the performers I could go all night without watching.
The clowns.
All five of them—red, blue, orange, green, and purple—performed an act that was equal parts acrobatics and nightmare fuel.
They threw knives at each other with terrifying precision, the blades always landing just shy of vital organs.
The purple one caught a blade between his teeth.
The orange one caught them while doing backflips.
And through it all, they laughed—that same cat-fight shriek that made everyone in the crowd shift uncomfortably.
When one of them "accidentally" nicked the blue clown's arm, drawing blood, they all immediately stopped and stared at the wound. Then, in perfect unison, they licked their lips and grinned before continuing as if nothing had happened.
Creepy bastards.
A contortionist followed. She twisted herself into shapes that shouldn't have been anatomically possible, her serpent tattoos seeming to move across her skin as she bent.
The crowd loved it.
"And now, if you raise your eyes to the rope above," Mortis raised his arm upward, "I present the Noose family."
A family of what looked like humans until you noticed their feet never quite touched the rope.
They floated inches above it, performing impossible flips and catches.
Two of the males tossed swords to each other while the women launched themselves through the air, each of them landing perfectly on the rope.
They did a pyramid on the rope, suspended in midair thirty feet above the ground with no net.
When they slid down ropes and silk ribbons to the floor, the crowd jumped to their feet, applauding.
Each act was spectacular. Terrifying in ways that made my skin crawl, but they kept the VIPs and crowd enthralled. And through it all, Mortis orchestrated everything with the precision of a master showman, building anticipation, making the crowd gasp and cheer.
Finally, after nearly an hour of performances, the lights dimmed except for a single spotlight on Mortis, who was standing center stage.
"And now," his voice dropped to that hypnotic cadence that made everyone lean forward, "for what you've truly come to witness.
The rarest creature in existence. A being of legend and flame.
A once-in-a-lifetime seeing." He paused, letting the tension build to an almost unbearable level.
"A phoenix." Mortis continued, gesturing toward the side entrance with theatrical flair.
My hands clenched into fists. Every word out of his mouth made me want to shift and tear him apart.
Music swelled—haunting and beautiful, the same melody that had been drilling into my head all week. The side curtain parted, and she walked out.
Kai.
"I present to you... my phoenix." Mortis continued.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, this is no normal phoenix, oh no.
This lovely lady is a royal phoenix, the very last of her kind.
A creature of fire and rebirth, of beauty and power beyond mortal comprehension.
Normally she performs on the last night of the carnival.
But tonight, just for you, she will transform before your very eyes.
And from her ashes, she will rise again.
She'll be reborn in the flame." Mortis' smile was predatory.
My breath caught in my throat.