Page 93 of Chaos Carnival

His chuckle held darkness that made my heart sing. “Sweetheart, my only thoughts are whether I was ever in control.”

The crimson and black weave vibrated as the Sisters continued their bloodthirsty dance, shadows stretching in strange shapes across the sawdust floor.

“Nope. Never.” I kissed his jaw before returning to work. “Tomorrow night, we give mortal evil something to fear.”

Chapter 43: Sanguine Justice

Maverick

Thearomaofbutteredpopcorn and cotton candy drifted through the tent, gradually souring as it mingled with the metallic tang of fresh blood. Outside, a calliope played cheerful melodies.

I stood in the crevices of the big top, watching as our carefully crafted spell drew them in. They came in ones and twos, predators thinking they were here to hunt. Their malevolence responded to the arcana woven through the circus grounds, leading them to their seats. Each of them radiated violence, their souls stained with acts that would make even demons pause.

“Creative,” Baphomet's voice purred from behind me. “Using their own corruption to lure them. Poetic even.”

I kept my gaze fixed on the gathering crowd. “Here to check on your sister?”

“Among other things.” He moved to stand beside me, his presence making my muscles clench. “Though I must say, this particular show wasn't what I expected.”

In the ring below, the Sisters of Shadow began their descent. Their bodies snaked in ways that went beyond Lilith's usual illusions, creating shapes that spoke to something primal in the human mind. The special audience members leaned forward, their expressions hungry, not realizing they were the prey tonight.

“The wards are set?” Stone materialized beside us, his voice low.

I nodded. “No one leaves until it's done. Lux has the perimeter.”

The Sisters' performance shifted, their shadows stretching toward each of the marked ones in the audience. Those touched by darkness saw their own victims in the shifting shapes. They moved in perfect synchronization, their dance becoming something older than time. Each gesture plucked at their targets' souls, like a poisonous dart.

“It's a dirty job but someone has to do it,” I said.

Baphomet's laugh held centuries of sin. “Keep telling yourself that, little seraph. But we both know you enjoy this.”

“Never said I didn't.”

Stone tensed beside us, but I remained still, watching as the first victims began to realize something was wrong. Their attempts to leave met invisible barriers, the panic feeding the spell that would end them.

The tent canvas rippled in the night wind, creating dancing shadows that merged with our own supernatural umbra. Each flutter of the fabric made the lanterns sway, their light catching on fresh spatters of red against the striped walls.

Volunteers from the audience were strapped to a spinning wheel, their struggling forms offering little resistance as the Sisters prepared them. Some fought the buckles, their eyes wild with fear, but it was too late. They were trapped, unable to escape what was coming.

Screams echoed through the big top, piercing the night as the wheel spun and the knives flew. Blood flew in macabre patterns, painting the air with red as the wheel turned, revealing new flesh for the blades.

I licked my lips, the heat of the magic surrounding us. The wheel never stopped turning, and the knives never ceased their infernal dance. There was nowhere to hide, no escape. My eyes locked with a bound man, his face contorted in terror, pleading for mercy.

Stone's hand gripped my shoulder, and his voice, tight with tension, cut through the sounds of torment. “We should get closer.”

The trash we had lured here thought they were coming to take part in some extreme, kinky show. Little did they know they were to become the main attraction.

I nodded, breaking eye contact with the man whose agony-filled screams now joined the ominous choir.

A gull's cry pierced the air from somewhere beyond the tent, the sound mixing with our victims' muffled screams. The carnival's bright lights filtered through the canvas, casting rainbow patterns that danced across gleaming blades and wet flesh.

They moved through the darkness, closing in on the wheel of death. The audience's screams and pleas now mingled with the moist rending of punctured flesh. The air was thick with the metallic odor of blood, and the sounds of agony reverberated, filling me with dark satisfaction.

“Lilith's touch is obvious here,” Baphomet mused, gesturing to the way shadows warped around the Sisters. “She always did have a flair for the dramatic. But...” He paused, head tilting. “This has your mate's signature all over it, too.”

The screams began in earnest now, but they didn't reach beyond the tent's boundaries.

“Quite spectacular, what the two can do together,” I mumbled, turning to face him

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