Last Kiss Goodnight

chapter Nine



Break up your fallow ground, and do not sow among thorns.

—JEREMIAH 4:3

VIKA PACED INSIDE HER trailer, the second biggest vehicle in the lot. (Her father’s was number one, of course.) The walls were covered with pink lace and draped with several jewel-toned tapestries. Every piece of furniture was plush, white, and expensive. The coffee table was Victorian and the legs carved to resemble dragons. The side tables were topped with crystal vases and ornate bowls.

A fairy-tale home fit for a fairy-tale princess, her father often said.

Fine fabrics were strewn about. Velvets, satins, silks, and even the highly expensive cotton. She knew how to sew, and was supposed to design herself “a wardrobe fit for the daughter of a king.” She hadn’t. And she wouldn’t.

To go along with her clothing, she had jade necklaces, ruby bracelets, and sapphire pendants, plus a set of diamond fingernails with rings of gold that wound all the way to her knuckles, and a brooch in the shape of a lion head, its fur made of amber, its eyes of ebony. Each piece sparkled as the overhead light cast out soft, golden rays. So pretty. So useless. They were items she was currently unable to sell, because her father would miss them.

“Why don’t you wear the things I give you?” Jecis demanded at least once a week.

“They’re not my style,” she would say. And so he would try again, giving her something else, something bigger, not understanding she had no desire to wear his guilt offerings—which was exactly what they were.

But last night at dinner, all that had changed. She had worn one of the necklaces, as planned, and he’d ruffled her hair, quite pleased with her, never noticing the slight bulge of the bandage under her shirt.

Oh, what a life I lead.

Her mother would have loved the trailer and the clothes and the jewels. She would have sewn as many gowns as possible, and danced across the entire home, laughing and twirling, and making Vika giggle.

A sudden lance of sadness pierced her. Her beautiful mother, who had claimed to love her more than anything, but had left her only child to run away with her lover.

Within a few days, Jecis had found her and dragged her back. Then, the next morning, he had summoned all the performers in one place and announced that his wife had died of a black, rotting heart. And that was true. Jecis had a black, rotting heart, and he’d killed her.

Vika had no idea what had happened to the lover.

Anyway, she wasn’t going to ponder the past, she reminded herself. She would think about today: opening day for the circus in New Atlanta.

She was to stay inside her trailer until her father finished with all of his duties and performances. She was to relax, eat her many chocolates, and enjoy herself, as if hours and hours with nothing to do but count her savings (for the three thousandth time) was fun, while everyone else within their circus “family” worked for their food and lodging, not just by helping with clothing, tents, games and vehicles, but through performing.

Vika was only to care for the otherworlders after the patrons left. That way, the townies never saw her, never tried to harm her, and heads never had to roll. More importantly, the circus never had to move to a new location sooner than planned, simply to avoid the law.

Jecis wanted Vika safe—from everyone but him.

When will you learn, Vika? There cannot be two masters in one house. You do what I say, when I say, or you suffer. I love you, but I cannot make allowances for you, just because you’re my only child.

A father who loved his daughter would not beat her. A father who loved his daughter would not maim and exile one of her only two friends, forcing her to give up the other for fear of watching the girl receive the same treatment. A father who loved his daughter would not murder her precious pets.

I just want to live in peace.

And yet, still she hadn’t stayed inside today. She had spent five minutes out in the open, running through the zoo to check on the newcomer. Five minutes, that was all, but in her father’s opinion that was five minutes too long.

A shudder nearly rocked her off her feet, and she tumbled onto the couch. How she wished Jecis was the man he used to be, the man who had listened to her stories about butterflies and tucked her in at night, but everything had changed when her grandfather died and he took over the circus.

The place had been in horrible shape, facing financial ruin. Money had quickly become Jecis’s only concern and he’d begun selling drugs and women in between acts. He’d had to do terrible things to keep his employees in line and his secrets in the dark, and those things had destroyed the man she’d known. But his pockets had filled, and that had been all that mattered to him. Within a year, he’d turned the place around—and his own terrible transformation had been complete.

If he found out what she’d done today, he would punish her for placing herself in danger.

If. Ha. He would. Too many people had seen her, just like she’d known they would.

Why had she done it, then?

There was no need to ponder; she already knew the answer. She’d done it because she couldn’t get the prisoner out of her mind. A thousand times she had remembered how she’d had her hands on him. Her bare hands. Male to female, heat to heat. A thousand more, she had remembered how she’d had her mouth on him—and just how much she’d liked it.

Suddenly she felt the vibration of someone’s . . . scream against her skin? Oh, yes. A scream. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She nearly threw open her door to peek outside.

The newest addition to the zoo had finally reached the end of his tolerance.

Sympathy welled inside her. All night he’d desperately fought to free himself, yet he’d made no progress. Fearing her father would hear his curses and decide to act, she had waited nearby, ready to doctor his injuries. But Jecis had never appeared, and the newcomer had continued to struggle, until the realization that he was stuck in the cage had at last settled in. Anger had contorted his features and his skin had taken on that crimson cast. His teeth and claws had grown, and though she should have run away in fear, the alteration had fascinated Vika.

Because . . . no matter how much his body had changed, his eyes had remained the same: big and blue, with those long dark lashes better suited to a woman. Innocent eyes. Haunting eyes.

Otherworldly eyes.

Like everyone else, Vika knew about the inhabited planets out there. But unlike everyone else, she also knew there was an unseen world operating here, on earth, all around them. And it amazed her how close the two worlds actually were. As many times as she had fought death, she had caught glimpses of that world and knew that there was absolute good and absolute evil—and both were as real as she was.

One step, that was all it took, and the spirit could leave the body and enter that other realm.

The newest prisoner should have reminded her of the evil side, but he hadn’t. Quite the opposite, in fact.

She’d returned to her trailer, and waited for someone to deliver her breakfast. A few minutes after that, she’d snuck out and returned to the zoo, where she’d thrown the food in his cage. Had he sampled the synbacon, biscuits, or cubes of honey? He’d been awake. He’d seen her, but he hadn’t tried to catch the burlap sack, and if he’d said anything, she wasn’t aware of it. She’d kept her attention away from him. Had they locked gazes, he might have tried to speak to her and she would have been tempted to stay.

She owed him another apology, after all. He’d been at his weakest, and she’d taken terrible advantage of him. It was just . . . wait. Was she going to do this? Was she going to think about the kiss now? When she’d avoided the topic all night?

Yes. She was.

Why had she pressed her lips against his? Why? That wasn’t like her. Desire wasn’t something she experienced, and yet she had been drawn to him on a primitive level. An undeniable level. Now, a part of her she’d thought destroyed long ago, a needy little girl who’d dreamed of a handsome Prince Charming coming to rescue her, kept stretching . . . stretching . . . finally awakening completely. Only, this prince was alone, just like her. He needed a friend, just like her.

Dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that had once gotten her in trouble. First, she could only count on herself, and she knew it. Second, she had befriended one of the first otherworlders to be captured, had actually grown to love and adore the girl. Had snuck out every night to spend with her, with her sweet Mara, and they had talked, shared stories about their lives.

Eventually, Vika had freed Mara and all the others.

And she had suffered terribly for her actions.

She knew better than to travel down that road again. And yet, all she’d seemed to care about was that the newcomer wasn’t used to hunger, and more than that, he was in for a horrible surprise when the circus opened in a few hours. She’d wanted him to experience something nice today.

If he tossed away the food, fine. His loss. She would have done a good deed, and she could—

The overhead lights flickered, and she groaned. She didn’t have a bell; instead, the lighting system was rigged to alert her to a waiting guest.

Her stomach cramped as she stood and shakily turned the knob. Thankfully, it wasn’t her father come to chastise her for her disobedience. Unfortunately, it was Matas, her “bodyguard,” and he radiated menace.

Meeting his gaze, she snapped, “What do you want?”

“Let me in,” he demanded with his patented scowl. He had tousled dark hair and eyes the color of black ice. He possessed a dusty complexion, and he was big of chest and arm—and pride and ferocity.

Today he’d opted to wear pants but no shirt, revealing the thick silver barbell hanging from his left nipple. He was certain it made him look chilled. Was that the right word? Cold? Cool? To Vika, it made him look like a hammer. Wrench? Whatever! He looked like some kind of tool.

“Move aside, Vika.”

Act casual. “No. This is my home. You aren’t welcome.” Act brave. “So go on. Leave.”

“I will . . . after I’ve had my say.” He shoved past her, and at the moment of contact, bugs seemed to jump from him and onto her, burrowing past her skin and into her veins.

A far different sensation from her contact with the otherworlder.

She tried not to cringe as she turned and faced him. “Make it fast.”

“Why? Do you have somewhere to be?” he asked just to be cruel.

She wasn’t surprised; he was a cruel man. Oh, he would never hurt her physically or anything like that. He was too afraid of her father. But he liked to poke at her in other ways.

He plopped onto her couch and fingered one of the necklaces hanging from a bowl on the side table. “We’re going to talk. Understand?”

“I do.” And she could just imagine how the conversation would go.

When are you going to stop being so stubborn and marry me? he would ask.

Never, she would reply.

Don’t be ridiculous. When? I’m the best thing that could ever happen to a girl like you.

A girl like her. Deaf. Defective. After I’m dead, I’ll consider it. Maybe.

He would curse. She would tremble.

So, yes, she was scared of more than just Jecis.

“I’ll kick things off,” she said, refusing to back down. “Have you forgotten rule number one?”

A muscle ticked below his eye, a clear indication of his growing anger. “No.”

“And it is?”

“No touching precious Vika. Ever.”

“And do you recall touching me on your way in?”

“Yes,” he gritted.

“Here’s another question. Do you recall rule number two?”

His fingers curled around the diamonds, and she was surprised the stones weren’t ground into a fine powder. “If I break rule number one, I have to punch myself in the face or you’ll tattle to your father.”

She waited, blinking innocently. Jecis was the only power she held over this man or any other, and she wielded it often and severely.

Matas gave his jaw a pop.

“Well?”

Scowling, he slapped himself.

“Good boy,” she said with all the sugar sweetness she could muster. She had seen him with other women, and knew he had attended the Jecis Lukas school of discipline. He wasn’t afraid to punch to assert authority and prove a (stupid) point when angry . . . or even mildly disturbed.

“Now it’s my turn,” he said. “When are you going to marry me?”

See? “I’m thinking . . . never. Is that good for you?”

A flash of annoyance. “I’m the reason your father’s people hate you, the reason even the otherworlders are turning against you. A word here, a word there, and the poison spreads. Marry me, and I’ll make them love you.”

How dare he! “What have you said?” she demanded.

He waved the question away. “I want you, Vika, and I will have you.”

Actually, he was second-in-command of the circus and he wanted to be first. He didn’t yet understand that would never happen. Jecis would never abdicate power, and Matas would never be strong enough to take it from him.

Before becoming ringmaster, Jecis had performed the magic act. After becoming ringmaster, he taught Matas the secrets of the dark arts, the two spending countless hours poring through books, practicing what they read, and even testing their powers on some of the patrons of the circus.

In comparison, the two men weren’t even in the same league.

“You’ll never have me,” she said with a shake of her head. “You repulse me.”

“Is that so?” Suddenly his shadow moved—while his body remained still—expanding over his shoulders . . . splitting apart, slithering in different directions, each gloomy limb inching closer to her.

Heart pounding, Vika squared her shoulders. She knew what those shadows were, recognized them from that other realm. They were evil. Evil so real, so vile it had taken some kind of living form.

Her father carried the same essence. In fact, that was where Matas had picked it up. She’d noticed it a few days after they had begun training together.

“That’s so. Now leave,” she snapped.

He grinned, all pearly whites and menace. “Make me.”

The cramping started up again. “You didn’t used to be this way, you know.” Like her father, he had changed over the years—from a somewhat affable young man who enjoyed sharing cotton candy with her after every show to this, demanding and depraved, capable of any despicable deed.

“I know,” he said, and he didn’t sound as if he cared. “Now I’m better.”

“Not to me.”

“That’s because you haven’t yet evolved. But I could make you powerful, Vika. Think of it. I could make you powerful enough to kill your father and rule this circus by my side. I—”

“Turned Rasa into a freak.” He’d used his magic to transform her beard hair into hundreds of little snakes.

He shrugged, unconcerned. “She was heard laughing about my act, and needed to be taught a lesson.”

“And Audra?” He’d shared his “power” with her, too.

“I never cursed her. She came to your father and asked for the same gift I’m now offering you. He told me to work with her, and I did. Every day she begs for more of what I have.”

His sneering tone made her think he gave Audra more than lessons about black magic.

“I want nothing to do with you or your magic.”

She would never allow herself to slide into the cesspool Jecis and Matas shared. A hunger and thirst for money and the power he’d mentioned had ruined them both, rotted their souls. And yes, she’d always heard that the greedy bred the greedier and the beaters bred even crueler beaters—but she was breaking the cycle.

Long ago, Vika had decided not to be like the men in her life. She always told the truth. She refused to bemoan her situation (very often). She refused to hate the people around her. She forced herself to be kind. That didn’t mean she had to like, accept, or support what people did to her. She knew it was possible to love someone and not support their actions. She knew she could fight against what was done to her, and always did, to the best of her ability, without being cruel.

And, like anything else of worth, such a decision required work. It was hard to be truthful when she knew a lie would temporarily save her. It was hard to walk in love when anger demanded she run in hate. It was hard work to be nice when she was hurting, and even harder to hang on to hope when she was feeling abandoned by, well, everyone. But really, at the end of the day, when she rested her head on her pillow, she knew she’d chosen the better road. They had to wade through the mud. She remained clean.

“Now,” she said, “if you’ll excuse me, I’d like a little alone time to replay this conversation through my mind and laugh at you. Actually, even if you won’t, I’d like a little alone time. Enjoy your day. Or not. Mostly not.” Okay, so she wasn’t ever nice to Matas. But then, even nice girls weren’t to play with evil.

She opened the door and waited.

He slowly unfolded from the couch and stuffed the diamond necklace he’d been fondling into his pocket.

She almost protested. Almost.

She might despise what the jewelry represented, but every piece was going to a great cause. In a year, she would have enough money in trinkets and charms to buy a new identity and a home hidden high in the mountains of New Colorado. A place she’d dreamed of owning for the last four years. A place no one would be able to take away from her.

Without the identity, Jecis would be able to find her. Without the home, she would have to get a job to pay rent, which would put her under someone else’s control, as well as on the grid.

Plus, the time gave her a chance to look for the key to the cuffs the otherworlders wore. Cuffs that had to be removed, or the captives could be tracked to the ends of the earth—and maybe even other planets.

“If Jecis catches you with that,” she said as if she was happy at the prospect, “you’ll be in trouble.”

“He won’t catch me. It’ll be gone within the hour.” Matas swept out of the trailer, making sure to brush against her.

Shuddering as the bugs once again seemed to jump on her, she slammed the door.