Circus of Death - Candace Wondrak Page 0,36

all me. I brought myself before the main tent’s flap, passing not a single other person on my way. Somehow, deep down I knew whatever I was about to walk into would not be a pretty sight, but I had to steel my nerves anyway. I was dead; not a coward. I might’ve been the girl who everyone ignored before, but not now. Not anymore.

Heaving a giant breath, I walked in, and what I saw was far worse than me being locked up in a box, unable to scream as Nigel sawed me in half.

Much, much worse, because it wasn’t me paying the price.

The circus crew had gathered around the main stage, Nigel overlooking it all like the madman he was, wearing the same getup as he’d been in my dream. A large, round wheel, painted in red and black, stood off to the side, the kind of thing someone who threw knives would use.

Only someone was on it, and this wasn’t practice. Trey was tied to it, wearing nothing but pants stained with blood. Numerous wounds dotted his chest and his arms, his wrists and ankles tied flat and pulled taut, making him an X on the wheel. Gina and Greg were on the stage with him, each of them holding onto a few throwing knives, and it took me only a moment to realize what was going on.

Nigel had Trey strung up like an animal, allowing the others to throw knives at him, knowing they’d hit the mark eventually—and judging from the wounds on Trey’s body, the bloodstains in his pants, I’d say quite a few of them already had.

The bastards. They were all bastards here, including Nigel. Especially Nigel.

My breath caught when I watched Gina lean back and raise one of the knives in the air, seconds from throwing it. She let it loose, and the knife flew through the air, a wild thing, lodging itself in Trey’s gut and causing him to let out a cry of pain. His golden eyes were wrought with torture, but they still found a way to dart to me regardless, and he shook his head at me, as if trying to tell me, without words, to turn and get out of here while I still could.

Too late for that, though. I wasn’t going to take a seat and let this happen, not without trying to stop it.

Nigel’s attention was on the giant spinning wheel and the person attached to it a few feet away, though those dark eyes immediately turned to me when I entered. His expression darkened, and he spoke loudly, “Ah, there she is, the girl of the hour.”

Gina and Greg knew enough to stop tossing their knives at Trey, turning to watch the showdown between Nigel and me.

I would never say I didn’t fear Nigel; anyone with a sense of self-preservation would fear that man and what he was capable of. But, and here’s the big thing: I was already dead. We all were. Truly, what did we have to lose? An eternity of torture? All for sleeping with Trey?

I called bullshit.

Though a tiny sliver of me wanted to turn tail and run away, I puffed myself up and walked closer to the stage. The others parted like the sea did for Moses, and I walked between the separated group, climbing onto the stage and meeting Nigel head-on.

Oh, God. He looked furious, his dark eyes daggers as they stared at me. If looks could kill, I would’ve been a goner the moment he turned that stare toward me. Right now, I didn’t know how I was still breathing; a look like that would freeze you, pin you to the spot you stood, and bleed you dry.

I looked behind me, sparing a sorrowful glance at Trey. The man on the wheel tried to speak, the knife Gina had thrown still sticking out of his gut, fresh blood oozing down his chest from other wounds, but Nigel held up a hand, stopping him.

The gesture didn’t stop me from turning my glare toward Nigel and saying, “I’d ask what this is about, but I have the feeling I already know.”

A tiny smirk crossed Nigel’s face, and it was then I realized I didn’t often see emotion there. Most often, Nigel was simply there, watching with an interested but hollow look in his eyes. The only things I’d ever seen there were anger, pity, and annoyance—and still I gave myself to him, in front of this whole crazy crew.

What was wrong