Page 2 of The Ringmaster's Secret
I tucked the photograph into my notebook, my mind racing with the implications of Joe's words. After a few more probing questions about the specifics of the disappearances, I left the coffee shop with a heavy heart and a mind teeming with dread and determination. My next stop? The train station and the current location of Dante Marcellus’ Misfit Cabaret.
The train station was bustling with activity when I arrived later that night, suitcase in tow. The sharp tang of diesel mingled with the sounds of announcements and hurried farewells. Purchasing my ticket, I made my way to the platform, the weight of the impending journey settling over me like a thick cloak. As I boarded the train, finding a window seat, the reality of my quest sank in. I was on my way to infiltrate a circus that might be harboring a criminal mastermind. The whistle blew, a mournful sound that seemed to echo my turbulent emotions. The train lurched forward, and I settled back, pulling out my notepad.I reviewed my notes, the photograph of Dante staring back at me from the page. His enigmatic gaze seemed to challenge me, taunting me with the secrets he held. Night fell as the train sliced through the dark landscape deep into rural farmland, the rhythmic clacking of the wheels a constant reminder of my isolation. My eyes grew heavy, and I drifted into a fitful sleep, my dreams a swirling mix of circus tents and shadowy figures, with Dante always at the center, an elusive puppet master.
Dawn was breaking when I awoke, the train slowing as it approached my stop. I gathered my belongings, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and anticipation. Stepping off the train, I was greeted by the sight of the circus sprawled out before me. Colorful tents stood proudly against the backdrop of the sleepy town, the air filled with the distant sounds of animals and performers beginning their day.
Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself for what was to come. This was it—the beginning of my dive into the heart of darkness. I walked toward the circus, each step taking me closer to the truth I was determined to uncover, no matter the cost.
Chapter Two
Ava
The morning was bright and vibrant as I arrived at the entrance of the Misfit Cabaret. The air thrummed with the bass of lively music and the chatter of families lining up under the colorful banners that fluttered in the gentle breeze. I paused for a moment to take it all in—the energetic pulse of the circus life that was about to become my undercover world.
Stepping forward, I approached the ticket booth, where the chatter was punctuated by the clink of coins and the shuffle of tickets. Behind the counter, a jovial man with a booming laugh attended to the guests. His name tag read "Tom," and his smile was as broad as the striped awning that shaded him.
"Good morning!" I greeted him with a brightness to match his. "I'm here to see about joining the circus crew. I can do just about anything you need—sell tickets, manage concessions, even clean up after the shows."
Tom's laughter filled the air, a genuine, infectious sound. "Well, we always need eager hands, especially ones so spirited. You should talk to Paula, our manager. She's just through there," he pointed to a small building just off to the side of the main entrance, "in the office with the blue door."
Thanking him, I made my way to Paula’s office, feeling the first stir of nerves as I prepared to sell my lie. The office was as vibrant and chaotic as the circus itself, with paperwork stacked high and circus posters lining the walls. A woman sat behind a cluttered desk, her hair pulled back in a no-nonsense bun, her eyes sharp and assessing as she looked up at me.
"Hi, I’m Ava. I spoke with Tom about joining the crew?" I began, extending my hand confidently.
"Ava, huh? What can you do?" Her voice was brisk, but not unkind.
"I'm a quick learner, very adaptable. I can help where you need me most," I responded, maintaining eye contact, projecting sincerity and enthusiasm.
Paula studied me for a moment longer, then nodded slowly. "Alright, Ava. We’ll start you on a trial period. Impress me, and there’s a permanent spot for you." She waved a hand vaguely toward the door. "Go on, then. Start with helping set up for today's midday show. Ask for Rick; he'll show you the ropes."
I thanked her and stepped back out into the swirl of circus life. The grounds were a sensory overload in the best way possible. Performers in glittering costumes rehearsed their acts, their movements both fluid and mesmerizing. Clowns in oversized shoes and bright makeup sauntered past, their laughter mingling with the calls of vendors selling popcorn and cotton candy.
I wandered through this kaleidoscope of activity, each step taking me deeper into the world I needed to infiltrate. The smell of sawdust and animal feed filled the air, grounding the surreal spectacle in tangible, earthy scents. Elephants stood near the back of the grounds, their massive forms surprisingly graceful as they moved under the watchful eyes of their handlers.
I found Rick, a burly man with a gentle smile, orchestrating the setup of the main tent. He handed me a stack ofbrightly colored seat cushions to distribute around the spectator benches.
"New, huh?" he asked as we worked.
"Just started today," I replied, keeping my tone light.
"Stick with it. Circus life's hard but good," he said, a note of pride in his voice. His acceptance was a small victory, the first of many I hoped to achieve.
As I arranged the cushions, my mind whirled not just with the immediate tasks but with the deeper mission. Somewhere amidst this chaos of joy and performance, dark secrets lurked. And somewhere here, too, was Dante Marcellus—the man whose dark allure promised to be as dangerous as it was compelling.
After finishing with the cushions, I found myself the costume shop amid a whirlwind of fabric and color, a stark contrast to the disciplined chaos outside. I pushed through the draped beads at the entrance, inhaling the scent of fresh linen and dust. Ellie, the head costume designer, a wiry woman with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue, waved me over from behind a mountain of sequined costumes.
"Ah, the new girl!" Ellie exclaimed as she looked me up and down with a discerning eye. "Let's get you fitted. Can't have you looking like a ragamuffin among the glitz."
She pulled me behind a makeshift dressing screen, where she handed me a vibrant, multi-colored jacket and a pair of snug black pants. As I changed, Ellie continued to chatter, her voice a melodic hum filled with the latest circus gossip.
"You know, Lila, the trapeze artist, is something of a mystery here," Ellie said, pinning the jacket tighter around my waist. "Keeps to herself mostly, but when she performs... oh, it's like watching poetry in motion."
Intrigued, I nodded, tugging at the jacket that now clung perfectly to my form. "Sounds like she's quite the performer."
Ellie chuckled, securing a final pin with a flourish. "That she is, but watch out. They say her last assistant got a bit too close—burned by her intensity, or so the rumors go."
Armed with Ellie's cryptic warnings, I thanked her and headed straight for the trapeze nets, where I was told I could find Lila practicing. The area was quieter, set apart from the main hustle of the circus grounds. I leaned against a post, my gaze lifting to the figure soaring above.
Lila was mesmerizing. Her body moved with a fluid grace, each swing and leap defying gravity. She was all lithe strength and controlled power, her presence filling the space around the nets. As she executed a particularly complex maneuver, our eyes locked. Her gaze was piercing, almost challenging, and her lips curled into a mysterious smile as she continued her dance in the air. The moment was fleeting, but it left a lasting impression, stirring a mixture of admiration and intrigue within me.
