Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
A s Mario changed from his practice clothing into jeans and a t-shirt on Friday evening, Patrick turned from his own locker. “Hey, I meant to ask — some of the aerialists are having a house party tonight, and they asked me to bring you along. Interested?”
Mario looked up from tying his shoe and grinned, surprised and happy to be extended an invitation. He’d not had much time to mingle with his fellow artists — Ilya kept him and Patrick far too busy — so he had wondered if they were leery of the “new guy” or something. “That would be great. I spent most of last weekend shopping or sleeping. I’m sick of my own company.”
“I totally get it.” Patrick shut his locker and spun the dial. “When I joined Phantasma last year, I was lucky because I knew a couple of people from the traveling shows I’d been in. You’re more like the folks who come in from other countries.”
Mario nodded, but he was privately amused because Patrick had no idea how far away his home was. He didn’t know if the amulet Errante had given him carried gave him the ability to understand and speak to anyone, but he always kept it on him, either around his neck or in a pocket in his practice clothing. He doubted he was in any danger at Circo, but Errante’s warnings weren’t to be taken lightly. Especially not since he was millennia old and had avoided being found by someone actively pursuing him for most of it.
It was also possible Mario had retained the magic from his years in the Carnival. It had been a necessity for those in the Carnival to communicate with everyone no matter where they went, even outside the gates, so he was used to it. Several of the support staff at Circo, like the Head Rigger, spoke French, so Mario was glad he could still communicate here as he had at the Carnival.
“When and where is it?” he asked. “Do I need an Uber?”
“Why don’t we share a ride?” Patrick suggested. “It’ll save on transportation. They live close to a store, too, so we can stop there first to get something to contribute, then walk the rest of the way.”
“Okay.” Mario turned and secured his own locker. “Ready when you are.”
Patrick summoned a ride for them, and Mario stared out the window as they skirted around Vegas and down toward the south. Soon the skyscrapers and casinos gave way to residential neighborhoods where street after street of houses baked under their roofs in the light of a westering sun.
The driver deposited them at a corner market, where they loaded up on bags of chips and dip and a case of beer, and then they braved the heat and walked two blocks over to the location of the party. They could hear the music when they were still a distance away, a blasting beat that Mario thought he almost recognized.
Patrick laughed. “Chenaya loves her 80’s music. I swear she was born forty years too late.”
Mario smiled, but he honestly had no idea what Patrick was talking about, since time moved differently everywhere. While there was a lot of similarity, particularly among the low-magic worlds he’d visited, they weren’t clones of each other. So he opted for the truth.
“I like this music,” he said. “Come on, you’ll have to introduce me to everyone before I start drinking or I’ll never remember their names.”
The party was already in full swing when they stepped onto the porch, and the front door opened at Patrick’s thundering knock, revealing a young woman dressed in a bikini so skimpy, it was hardly more than a few small triangles of fabric held up by strings.
“Hey, I’m Chey. I do silks,” she said, stepping back to allow them to enter. “You must be Mario.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mario replied. “Um, where do we…?”
“Kitchen,” Patrick said, pausing to press a smacking kiss to Chey’s cheek before brushing past her. “Everyone is probably out by the pool, right?”
“Of course.” Chey closed the door, wrapped an arm around Mario’s waist, and guided him in Patrick’s wake. She was at least a foot shorter than Mario, but her arm was strong. “We have a bet going about you, newbie. Which is it? Girls, guys, both, all, or, perish the thought, neither?”
Carnival people could be forthright, but this candor threw Mario off. “For what?”
She glanced up at him. “Who do you go for?”
Mario felt his face growing hot. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure if you were asking about performing, or….” They arrived in the kitchen, and Mario deposited the case of beer in an empty spot on one counter. Then he turned back to Chey. “Guys, actually.” Or at least one guy , he thought. Though that seems less possible every day .
For some reason, Chey seemed inordinately pleased with his answer. “Perfect. Come on and meet everyone else.”
She led him outside, where an enormous pool filled with people took up a substantial part of the walled yard. There were plenty of people out of the water as well, many of them dressed in jeans like Mario, so he was relieved he didn’t look too out of place. Chey pulled him toward one side, where a makeshift bar had been set up, and a man Mario recognized as one of the trapeze artists was behind it making drinks.
“Tal, this is Mario Gallier,” Chey introduced him. “Mario, Tal — who flies through the air with etcetera, etcetera.” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “Tal is gay, too. And single. And also my brother.”
“Nice to meet you,” Tal said, shooting an aggrieved look at Chey as he held out his hand to Mario. “Pay no attention to her. She thinks she’s the world’s greatest matchmaker. Which she is not.”
“Which I am ,” Chey retorted.
Mario chuckled. He was delighted that there were families among the performers in Circo — it made him feel a sense of belonging. “Better agree with her,” Mario said, giving Tal’s hand a firm shake before releasing it. “Last time I disagreed with my sister, she put itching powder in my chalk.”
“Ooo, I like the way she thinks,” Chey said, giving Tal an evil smile. “Better watch out, bro, or you might be scratching an itch you don’t want to have.”
“Oh, great,” Tal rolled his eyes. “So what can I get you to drink, Mario? Beer? Margarita? We even have a couple of bottles of wine and a bunch of sodas.”
“I’ll just take a soda for now, thanks,” he said, pointing to a can mostly buried in ice in a cooler beside Tal. “I told Patrick I wanted to meet everyone first or I’ll forget all the names.”
“Smart,” Tal approved, handing Mario the can. It was so cold, it almost burned, but he didn’t mind. Even though the sun had almost set, the temperature was still much hotter than Mario was used to.
“Come on, let’s ditch Mr. Grumpy and meet the rest of the gang.” With that, she pulled him away toward the large group of laughing people. Tal chuckled and gave Mario a thumbs up.
There followed a whirlwind set of introductions as Mario tried to memorize names to go with faces. Of course, with almost all of them being Circo performers, with a scattering of significant others thrown in for variety, everyone was outgoing, friendly, and welcoming.
More than one of the young men present gave him definite signals of interest, but despite them being buff and handsome, Mario didn’t feel any real answering attraction. He compared them to Ilya, which he knew was a good way to end up frustrated. Telling himself to keep an open mind, he mingled with everyone, enjoying himself as he answered their questions about “growing up in a circus,” a bit surprised that most of them seemed to have heard about his background.
Apparently satisfied that she’d introduced him enough, Chey finally left him to his own devices, with an admonishment to make sure he talked to Tal again, who, she reminded him, was single and available.
After the sun had set and the heat of the day began to fade, a couple of the performers began grilling hot dogs, hamburgers, and vegetable patties. One thing that Mario noticed was that performers were the same the worlds over, and they all dug in hungrily to the food, no one seeming self-conscious about going back for seconds and thirds.
While he was eating, someone took a seat next to him where he had found a place at the end of one table. He glanced over to say hello, then stopped when he realized his seatmate looked vaguely familiar. She was a young woman with delicate, almost pointed features, amber eyes, and hair as dark as Mario’s own. But he was having a hard time coming up with a name from an introduction.
“I’m Daphne,” she said. “I can see you don’t remember me.”
“I’m sorry.” Mario smiled ruefully. “So many new faces tonight. Nice to meet you again.”
Daphne returned the smile. “Actually, we didn’t meet this evening. It was a long time ago, when we worked at the same place for a while. I was one of Gentleman Jim’s assistants.”
Mario felt his eyes widening. “You were in the Carnival?”
“For a while,” she said. “I remember watching you perform when you were ‘younger’.” She put a definite emphasis on the word. “I could hardly believe it when I saw you again, all grown up.” Leaning closer, she dropped her voice. “There are a few of us here, mostly among the acrobats and techies — I’m an acrobat myself. I do a routine on the Cyr Wheel.” Mario knew what that was: a large metal ring that an acrobat stood in, spread-eagle, to perform rolls and spins and other moves. “There are more in the traveling shows. But you’re the first of the big acts I’ve ever known to leave the Carnival, especially when you have a family. Is everything okay back there?”
“Everything was fine when I left,” he assured her, and a certain tension seemed to relax in her posture. “I just wanted to see something more of a world for once. Explore a bit, meet some new people.”
“Oh, good.” She held up her left hand, drawing his attention to the diamond ring she wore. “I would hate for anything bad to happen to the Carnival after everything it gave me. I owe Errante for my happiness.”
Mario nodded. He rarely heard what happened to people who left the Carnival, so he found it comforting to know that, just as Errante had always said, they seemed to find their Path. It gave him hope he was going to find his — and hopefully sooner rather than later. “I’m sure he’d be happy to know.”
Daphne laughed. “Sometimes I wonder if he somehow already does. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that if you ever need help, those of us who have Traveled have a sort of informal alliance of support. Since, you know, none of us are exactly from around here.” She winked. “If you give me your contact info, I’ll add you to our group, if you’d like.”
“I would.” Mario pulled out his phone and exchanged information with her. “Tell me, though, how you all figured out you’d been with the Carnival? I mean, I know you recognized me, but how do you recognize one another?”
“We always expect someone when the Carnival is in the area — we watch for it,” she replied. Then she glanced around, apparently making sure they weren’t being overheard. “I guess you haven’t noticed it yet, but unfocus your eyes when you look at me.”
Mario did as instructed, and he was surprised to detect a soft, almost invisible halo around her. “Oh!”
“Yeah. Traveling leaves a trace.” She seemed amused. “So when we see a new person with the ‘sign,’ usually we ask if they’ve met a man named Errante — if they have, they’re one of us. There have been a few over the years, I’ve been told, who haven’t, and we give them a wide berth. The Carnival seems to be very discerning about who Travels, but we can’t be sure about the others. And some of us have a good reason for not wanting to run into anyone from ‘home’.”
“That makes sense.” He thought about his own home and the reasons his parents had found it necessary to take their entire family into exile from the world where he’d been born.
“I’m sure you do.” She looked around again, and her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “A lot of us are also not quite human, if you know what I mean. Sometimes it really helps to be yourself around people who don’t get freaked out by it.” She put her hand on his arm, and as he looked down, he saw her flesh ripple and shift. For a moment, he saw iridescent scales covering a small area of her skin.
Mario nodded in understanding. Apparently, there were those who were more like him than he thought, though he wasn’t sure that he wanted to share his own secret with anyone, even people who knew of the Carnival. “I can see why that might be a comfort.”
“It really is. We sometimes get together to reminisce about the Carnival and talk about where we came from, things no one else would understand. It’s a weird kind of support group, I guess, but it works for us. Everyone gets homesick from time to time, you know?”
“Oh, yeah, I know,” Mario replied. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to meeting everyone else.”
“I’ll add you to the group chat,” she said. She looked over his shoulder, and her smile grew soft. “My fiancé is finally here. Excuse me? I’ll make sure you meet him later.”
“Of course.”
She rose, and Mario watched as she went to greet a newcomer. He was short and almost stout, obviously not one of the aerialists. But Daphne wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, and Mario smiled. He was happy for her and happy that the Carnival had helped her find her destiny.
After he’d eaten, he took the opportunity to do as Daphne had shown him, letting his gaze go unfocused as he watched people mingling, and he was strangely pleased to see two others that had the “aura” of being Travelers, though he didn’t get a chance to speak with them beyond casual introductions. Later, he was introduced to Daphne’s fiancé, Cole, who was one of the makeup artists for Circo. Not only was he a Traveler, but he was also a coyote shapeshifter. After that, Mario felt like having a drink. He wandered over to where Tal was still tending bar.
“What’ll you have?” Tal asked. “Another soda?”
“I was thinking I’d try a margarita. Never had one,” Mario admitted. Like sex, alcohol was something he’d tried but didn’t feel the need to overindulge in. “I’ve always stuck to beer when I drink at all, but… new place, new friends. Why not try a new drink?”
“Why not indeed.” With a grin, Tal reached for a bottle labeled ‘Tequila,’ and a bottle of orange liqueur. He poured them into a shaker, then added ice. After dipping the rim of a glass in a plate of salt, Tal hammed it up a bit, shaking both the beverage and his hips while Mario laughed. Then he poured the contents into the glass, put a lime on the rim, and passed the result of his efforts across the bar. “Tell me what you think.”
Cautiously, Mario took a sip. “That’s… strong.” It also burned a bit on the way down, but Mario wasn’t going to admit it.
“You get used to it,” Tal said. “And if you think that’s strong, wait until people start doing shots later.” He winked. “Same buzz, without all the time-consuming sipping.”
Laughing, Mario raised the glass in acknowledgment, then turned away as more people came up to the bar to request beverages from Tal.
He talked to more people, had another margarita (the second went down more smoothly), was loaned a bathing suit from a stash that Chey seemed to keep on hand for guests and let himself be coaxed into the pool.
Over time, the type of people at the party changed, as many left after claiming fatigue or other commitments. Yet the number of people didn’t dwindle, and in fact grew when an entire group from the currently running show, Phantasma, showed up.
Mario didn’t know what time it was, but he was enjoying himself being among his peers. His head was swimming a bit, however, so he grabbed a bottle of water as he sat on the edge of the pool, swishing his bare legs through the warm water.
“Oh my god, I don’t believe it,” someone said, and Mario noticed that a few people were staring over his shoulder. “Chey said she’d invited him, but I never thought he’d show up.”
Mario heard several voices near the house calling out in welcome. Curious about what the commotion was, he set his bottle of water aside and stood up. He was annoyed that the ground seemed to move, but he turned around and peered past the people who were standing around the doorway.
That was when he caught sight of who they were talking to. Dark hair, strong jaw, hawkish nose… Ilya. Mario felt warmth spread through his body. Ilya was here, and Mario wanted to run up and throw his arms around him and welcome him as well. Somehow the party seemed even better. He took a step forward, ready to act on his impulse. Maybe Ilya would even be happy to see him in return.
And that was when the grass suddenly seemed to rush up toward him, and everything went dark.