Taming The Ringmaster Read online

  Dropping to my knees, I grab his shoulders and shake him, desperate to wake him. He can’t be dead, he just can’t. “Rex! Wake up! Please!” I cry, sobbing with relief as he groans, bringing a hand to his eyes, and I finally notice the rise and fall of his chest, but it’s faint.

  “Rhea? What’s wrong? What’s going on?” His voice is rough and confused as he tries to sit up, but his body doesn’t seem to want to.

  “Oh, gods. I thought you were dead.” My words end on a sob. Come on, Rhea, get it together. Taking a deep breath, I look around again, seeing the others beginning to stir from where they have been placed around the cage. Placed.

  Now that the initial shock has worn off, I gaze around us again with a frown, seeing where each of us lies. Each member of my family has been positioned around the cage in equal distance from the other, like playing pieces on a board. It reminds me of the game of chess Alcide played with Rex while we were travelling. Everything is in perfect position, players ready to be moved like puppets. Is that what we are...is that what we are doing here?

  My eyes catch on Alcide’s to see him staring out of the cage, a narrow-eyed look on his face, but it’s the fear that makes me shiver. Alcide fears nothing. Following his gaze, I stop when I notice the men watching from outside the cage, waiting for us.

  “Rhea,” a voice calls, a familiar voice. I get to my feet slowly, shielding a still struggling Rex with my body. Alcide wobbles over and joins me, his body straightening and none of the weakness I know he must be feeling showing. Together, we walk to the bars of the cage, and I realise that they have been watching us this whole time. The Masters, the three men I met before, plus another two I have never seen. They are sitting just behind the bars in gilded seats with trays of food next to goblets full of wine next to them. Anger lines my stomach as we reach the bars, but I try to keep my face blank.

  “So nice of you to join us,” Mr. Lennon jokes, sitting forward while watching us with barely disguised glee as the rest of my family circles around us.

  “Glad we could make it. The invite must’ve come very late,” I growl back, but then frown as I realise something, anger is coursing through me...why aren’t my powers?

  “Alcide,” I hiss, as he glares at the men. “Alcide,” I say louder, before turning to the others. “Something is wrong, can anyone reach their powers?” I ask, truly scared as I reach deep inside and find the place where my adaptability usually comes from...it’s empty, like a part of me has been taken away.

  “No,” Blain gasps, recoiling, his face horrified as he looks down at his hands.

  “Me either,” Jessie whispers.

  “Ah, sorry to interrupt, but I’m afraid we couldn’t let you use those pesky little powers of yours to hurt us. We have to take precautions of course. You will notice your new jewellery, we took the liberty of placing it on you while you were asleep,” he sneers.

  Looking down, I spot the two, brown metal shackles covering both wrists...how did I not notice them before? The plain metal bands are about two inches wide and completely encompass my wrists. I pull at the bands, trying to see if there are any weak points in the metal, but stop when pain zips through my wrist, as if I’ve been stung. I can’t even see any seam in the metal, I have no idea how they got them on us. If I concentrate hard enough, I can almost feel the sucking edge to them, like they are draining my powers away. Feeling sick, I look back up at the Masters.

  “You drugged us, took us from our home, and took away our powers. Why? You invited us here!” I spit, enraged that they would trick us like this. Why did we ignore Alcide’s bad feelings about coming to the city? We should have left the moment Nixon said something big was coming, we should know better than to ignore his feeling.

  “Yes we did, my dear. You see, the tales of the traveling freaks had spread even to our small corner of the world. I had to see if it was true. We here in The Last Stop don’t hurt freaks, no, we do much better. We let them flourish, we use their unique capabilities for the entertainment and betterment of our society. Out there, you are nothing, not even wanted by the world, shunned and hunted. Here, you have a chance at life, you have meals and a bed to sleep in.” He nods, his speech sounding rehearsed, but the scary thing is he actually believes this, I can hear the sincerity in his words and the light shining in his eyes tells me that he believes he is doing a good thing. He truly believes he is helping us, all the while sneering the word freak.

  “If you help people by drugging them and throwing them in a cell, then I hate to see what you do to your enemies,” Blain drawls, rubbing at his wrists where his daggers usually appear from, and I know he is envisioning what he would do with them if his powers weren’t being held back by the shackles.

  “Yes, well, let’s hope you never find out,” one of the new men comments, his haughty attitude telling me all I need to know about him. He believes we are beneath him, nothing more than trash, and that we should be grateful for this opportunity they are offering us.

  “You still haven’t answered the question. Why are we here?” Alcide demands, his voice hard, but I notice that without his powers, he sounds different. His voice is somehow weaker, nothing like the confident Alcide that I have come to know and love.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Blain retorts, as he pushes past us to the bars, gripping them as he stares at the Masters. “They mean for us to fight for their entertainment. Using our powers against each other. I’ve heard the rumours, but I thought they were just that, rumours.” He spits the last word, his face contorted in fury and I gasp, stepping up next to him.

  “We will never fight for you, we are a family, we would never hurt each other,” I yell.

  “We’ll see, everyone says that at first. It takes a little...persuading...but everyone has a price, Rhea, what’s yours? The life of your men, your family, how about the life of the animals you love so dearly. Or maybe it’s simpler...your life?”

  The first man that spoke, Master Lennon, who he truly believes he is helping us, is looking flustered as if the threatening talk is upsetting him.

  “Of course, you won’t...fight against your family to start with, you will build up to that. You might never even fight against them. It all depends on the draw on the day! Besides, we don’t like to call it that, no, you are doing a service. You will be doing your job, you will have a job at least once a week,” he explains with a smile.

  “Right… our job.” Jessie catches on, walking closer to the bars, his tone light as he questions the Masters. “And how exactly do these jobs work? How do we leave here?”

  The Masters share an amused glance, a couple of them even laughing. “Oh, I always find it funny when they ask that,” one of them comments to the other. “You won’t. This is your life now, so you better get used to it. We have some who think they can escape, who reject their place in this society and fight against us, but they quickly learn their place. Do your job properly, follow the rules, and things will be better for you. You could even be rewarded. Those who think they are better than us, who reject our... kindness, always suffer for it in the long run.” The cold eyes of the Masters bore into me and I don’t bother to hide the shudder that runs through me at their words. Their minds are warped. They have actually convinced themselves we are nothing but...but slaves or toys to them. They believe they are helping us. “Don’t be like them.” I feel like this last part is being aimed at me and I take a small step back, only to walk into a wall of muscle. Looking up sharply, I see that Nixon is standing protectively behind me, his arms wrapping around me, claiming me as his. However, his narrowed gaze stays on the Masters, almost daring them to try and take me from him.

  I can feel the tension rising and know I need to try and diffuse the situation before Nixon triggers and they step in. I know they aren’t afraid to hurt us, they don’t see us as human. They see us as theirs, theirs to do what they please with, and they won’t hesitate to teach us that.

  “What happens now?” I ask, interrupting the strain I can feel building b
etween my family and them.

  “Well, we test your powers first, then we group you. From there you will begin training,” he explains with a shrug, like it is simple.

  “Wait. We won’t be kept together?” I gasp, unable to hide my horror, which only grows as the Masters grin, one even chuckles a little, the sound distinctly evil.

  “No, of course not. We wouldn’t want you ganging up on us. Until we know you can be trusted, this is the last time you will all be together in the same place.” Horror races through my body, I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t with my men. We spend every day together and most nights...without them, what am I?

  No powers.

  No family.

  Just me.

  Fear seeps through me. Will I go back to being nothing but a slave? Afraid to speak, afraid of doing something wrong, willingly bowing to their every demand...No. No. That’s not me, not anymore. I’m stronger than that, just because they won’t be by my side doesn’t mean I will be alone. We will get out of this, we always do.

  We have to…right?

  Until then, I will play the game, but I won’t remain silent. I refuse to let them break me like before. I am adaptable, I am strong, and they picked the wrong fucking circus to mess with.

  Before I know it, men are streaming into the cage, pulling us away from each other. I kick and scream, but when they hold a gun to Jessie’s head, I stop and let them drag me over to the edge of the enclosure. They line us up, their weapons held on Jessie.

  “Release his shackles, let’s see what he can do,” one of the Masters orders.

  A man steps forward and unlocks his shackles. Jessie rounds his shoulders, stretching out, and they follow every movement, ready at a moment’s notice to strike if he tries anything.

  “Go on, show us. Do you really want to risk your family?” one of the masters taunts.

  Frowning, Jesse reluctantly hold out his hands, calling his fire, igniting a small flame in his palm, extending it along the skin of his arm before extinguishing it by closing his fist. The Masters all murmur excitedly and gesture for Jessie’s shackles to be put back on. I glance at Alcide and see him shake his head slightly. We all know that Jessie can do more than he just showed, but the Masters don’t know that, happy at Jesse’s apparent compliance.

  One by one they lead us forward and unlock our shackles, testing our powers before they place the metal bands back on our wrists. Alcide charms them, but doesn’t show too much. Rex shows off his strength and speed, but doesn’t explain where it comes from. Nixon simply picks up a man and throws him at the Masters. They laugh, calling off the guards when they try to shoot him. Blain produces his knives, but Alcide warns him with a look not to try throwing them. Then it’s my turn.

  I step forward, and once I stand in the middle, they unleash my shackles. I watch closely, trying to figure out how they close. They used a blunt looking key and press it to the back of the shackles before they crack open with a hiss. No joints, just the key. I watch the guard drape it around his neck, where it hangs from a string.

  “Rhea, if you would be so kind,” the Master calls. “I heard they call you the immortal, will you show us why?”

  Heeding Alcide’s looks, I make sure not to show them my true strength or abilities, but I also want them to know I’m not weak. They might have us right now, but I won’t sit meekly. I will fight them and I will get free.

  I have no masters anymore because I am not a slave any longer, I am Rhea the Immortal. Alcide and my men made it so, and I won’t disappoint them now.

  I let my skin harden, visibly turning to stone under their inspection. Tilting my chin up at them, I smile. “Whip me,” I order.

  They make no moves, the guards shifting, clearly unsure. “Whip me!” I scream. “Unless your words were just that, words,” I dare them.

  “Rhea,” Nixon hisses, but I don’t draw my eyes away from the Masters. I am drawing a line in the sand and daring them to cross it. I want to know how far they will take this. How far they will go to control us.

  “Whip her,” he orders, and I hear the guard step forward, his whip curling through the sand with a hiss before it whistles through the air. When it hits my skin, it bangs before falling back uselessly.

  Sarcastically, I bow with a flourish. “Thank you, you have been an incredible crowd.” I hold my hands out, and the guards come back and place my shackles on, then lead me back over to the others.

  Blain is grinning, Nixon is glaring, Jessie looks worried, but Alcide is calculating. “Good, but don’t push them too far,” he whispers and I nod.

  We stand silently, waiting for the verdict between the whispering Masters. I grab Nixon’s hand and weave our fingers together, before grabbing Blain’s on my other side and doing the same thing. I’m sending a message—you can split us up, but you will never break us apart.

  “All separate!” they eventually call, and Alcide swears as they start to separate us, I lose my grip on Blain’s and Nixon’s hands.

  When they start to lead me away from Nixon, he goes apeshit. With a roar, he begins throwing men like they are weightless, fighting and ignoring their weapons.

  A whip slashes through the air with a crack, winding around his neck as he snarls, fighting it with men hanging from his body, trying to get to me, his face turning red as he takes step after step towards me. This is with his powers blocked, and I marvel at his strength once again.

  Kicking the man holding me, I pull from his grip and race over before pulling at the men clinging on to him, trying to stop them from hurting him.

  “Nix, Nix, look at me!” I yell, and he stops struggling, his eyes staring into mine.

  A Master’s voice cuts through the air. “Keep those two together, it could be useful. Now, get them inside, I’ve grown bored with them. I want them checked out, branded, and ready to train before tomorrow!” the man shouts, and I watch as the Masters disappear, leaving us with the guards who seem all too happy to follow their orders as they point their weapons at us.

  We are led from the cage one by one.

  Guards shackle our hands before chaining us to another guard who starts to lead us away. He tugs me, making me stumble over my feet, but I refuse to fall. I’m not used to being without my powers, and it has made me weaker, off kilter. Walking without them filling my body is strange. I can hear Blain growling at the guards, Alcide charming them, and Jessie playing nice. Only Rex, Nixon, and I remain silent.

  The passageway we are led to has a fence all the way around it, even arching over the top. It’s as if they think we would try to climb the sides and escape. Maybe it has happened in the past and they are trying to learn from their mistakes.

  People line the side of the caged passageway, their fingers gripping the fence as they watch us. Their eyes are seeking our weaknesses, the way a predator observes its prey. It reminds me of when Frederick bought me from the slave markets. But these people don’t want to keep us. No, they want to see us suffer and die, it’s clear to see in their eyes—the need for blood, the hope that we will bring excitement to their otherwise dull and meaningless lives.

  Refusing to look at them, I face forward and eye the towering building we are being led to. A big, brown, wooden gate stands open at the end of the winding passage, but the room beyond it is dark, leaving me unable to make anything out. The building itself is made of grey stone, stretching high into the sky, and from what I can see, it’s round like our stage.

  Chanting can be heard, even from here. A large crowd is begging for blood, begging for more. The sound of thousands of stomping feet, shaking the ground like thunder, has me hunching into myself. I can almost taste the blood and death in the air.

  When we reach the gate, I’m shoved inside from behind, and I’m glad to be away from prying eyes. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but the guards don’t wait, they carry on shoving me and I tumble forward—my feet catching on steps I didn’t know were there.

  I bite my lip to stop from crying out and blink
rapidly until I can see in front of me. A wide staircase with dirty, wet, sand-coloured walls leads downwards, with torches hanging every few steps to provide minimal lighting. Each step is steep, much more suited for Nixon’s large stride, and I struggle to keep up as I’m yanked down them quickly.

  The heat hits me the farther we go down, like when you’re in a crowded room with too many people. I crinkle my nose at the smell of unwashed bodies and copper, like it has sunken into the walls and ground, never to be free of this place.

  When I reach the bottom of the staircase, I gawk at the place around me. It’s like being thrown into a completely new world. It looks like something out of a story…or a nightmare.

  Sand and dirt cover the hard floor beneath my feet, and I wrinkle my nose at the blood and various stains dotted here and there, but my blood runs cold as I take in the rest of the space. Directly across from the stairs are a row of cells. Dirty, concrete walls line the back of each cell with only bars separating them, and there’s only a simple mat on the ground in each one, presumably to sleep on. Water is dripping from the ceiling and as the crowd cheers and stomps above, sand and dust rain down, covering my hair.

  In the middle of the room, set lower into the floor with no steps down, is what looks like a food area. Rough, wooden tables with weapon marks and blood stains are lined by odd stools, chairs, and benches. Silver trays of forgotten food are scattered around the tables as men watch us from their seats. I purposely don’t make eye contact, shivering when I realise there are no other women. Just big, hard, sweaty, scarred up men, all looking at me like I am their next meal.

  Past the eating area is a long rectangular room I can’t see clearly from here, but I spot a man or two walking in there completely naked. A blush steals over my face and I quickly avert my eyes. I’m no prude, how can I be with all my guys, but when faced with this bunch of naked, hard men, I shrink back slightly.

  The guard pushes me forward once again and I stumble, hitting my knees on the floor hard. I hear Nixon roar, so I quickly get to my feet and he stops fighting as I throw him a soft smile over my shoulder. As I move farther into the room, I spot another row of cells on the opposite wall than the first. In the left corner, just past them, are racks and racks of weapons—swords, maces, axes, chains, and pretty much anything you could ever imagine. They’re not in good shape. Some are covered in gore and most of them are blunt, but they could still do some damage. In front of them is another brown gate with a guard in front of it, and my hopes of grabbing one and trying to escape decreases.