The Bones of Ruin Page 7

  Maybe she didn’t have to leave, after all. She may feel safe if she just knew the truth of who she was. Armed with the truth, she’d be able to figure out how to better maneuver around Coolie and the other performers. Knowing her past would give her a better map of the future—and how to include in that future the people she cared for.

  “Granny, come for a moment.” Standing, she drew Granny into an empty corner of the room and spoke to her about Adam, leaving out the stranger details. “You know I don’t know much about my past. This man said he could tell me. But I won’t have to rely on him if you could just… remember something.” She gazed up at Granny with pleading eyes. “Granny, the day I met you, I knew we’d met before.”

  “But…” Granny began coughing again, wincing and touching her temple as if too much information had come in at once. “I told you, child, we did not know each other before you began working at the company.”

  “That can’t be true!” Iris grasped the woman’s hands tightly. “My gut tells me that isn’t true. We must have known each other in the past.”

  “But that’s…” Granny shook her head slowly, trying to grasp everything.

  “Thirty minutes!” A staff member’s sweaty head appeared through the open door of the dressing room just to yell this before disappearing into the hallway again.

  “Can’t you remember, Granny? Anything about me? Where we met? Or perhaps the parents that gave me my name.”

  “Oh, no, darling, it was that awful man who named us,” she said suddenly before blinking absently. The old woman was taken aback by her own words… as was Iris. So Granny had known her.

  In truth, the name Iris had never felt like her own at all. It was as if it were nothing more than a placeholder. And now this. Her life itself was a clown’s mask forced upon her until she could finally learn the truth.

  Iris took in a careful breath. “Tell me more, Granny. You must remember something more.”

  Iris’s timing was terrible. The show was about to begin. But she couldn’t stop herself, even as Granny’s hands began to shake in her grasp.

  “Please try, Granny, try. Where have we met before?” Granny furrowed her brow in confusion. “Did you know me in Ibadan? Or did we meet at the… at the exhibit?”

  “Exhibit.” Granny’s eyes grew wide, her lips parted in a frozen yell. “Exhibit.”

  She spoke the word as if it were a nightmare made flesh. Her chest bobbed up and down in her gray dress, faster and faster until suddenly she yanked her hands from Iris’s grip, stepping back. “No. No, you’re—” She grabbed her hair. “No, you’re twisting things. That’s not… You—”

  Iris watched in horror as Granny lapsed into a fit of coughing, holding her head with both hands and backing up until she bumped into a table and collapsed onto the ground.

  “Granny!” Iris screamed. By now everyone in the room had swarmed around them, offering Granny water, bringing clothes and towels to cushion her head. “Granny, are you okay? Granny, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

  Her face stained with tears, Iris fed Granny a glass of water handed to her by one of the trapeze girls. Once Granny had finally relaxed, Iris took a handkerchief from the magician and dabbed the beads of sweat from her wrinkled skin.

  “We should call someone to take her back to her tent,” a juggler told her. “The atmosphere of the show might be too much for her right now.”

  Iris asked for a staff member to arrange for a horse-drawn cab to bring her back to the grounds. But when it was time for Granny to leave, before Iris handed her off to the staff members, the old woman whispered words that left her standing in blank confusion:

  “Exhibit…” Granny Marlow’s eyes glazed over, her movements sluggish as she walked toward the door. “If those men hadn’t kidnapped Sister and me, then, child, you would have.”

  * * *

  “Some experiences are too difficult to face,” Jinn told her from behind the doorway to the circus ring as they waited for their cue. “For some, it’s easier to bury them. But when you try to drag them out by force…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Whatever those experiences might be for Agnus, I’m sure she’ll be okay. She’s strong.”

  Though standing right next to her, he had to bend down and speak into her ear so she could better hear him. The boisterous, full house would have made it impossible otherwise. Iris was too distraught to care much about whatever tension still remained between them; Granny Marlow’s episode had dissolved all other worries to insignificance.

  Sister? Kidnapping? She still couldn’t make sense of the woman’s words, and the more she tried, the worse a blow it was to her heart. But she nodded anyway, blinking her eyes rapidly. She couldn’t let her makeup, freshly redone, spoil again this close to their set.

  I really can’t stay here, can I?

  In the dressing room, for one terrifying moment, Iris thought that Granny’s heart would fail. Perhaps one day it would fail because of her. Granny might hold the key to her past, but Iris’s search for herself couldn’t endanger a life, especially one so precious.

  “Jinn, you’ll take care of her, won’t you?” She suddenly grabbed his arm, looking up at him pleadingly. “And Egg! You have to make sure Coolie doesn’t cook him!”

  “Relax,” Jinn said as the audience burst into applause. The lion tamer had the circus ring, and his talent for directing deadly beasts was one that easily satiated the crowd’s appetite for thrills. After a slight hesitation, Jinn placed his hand on Iris’s shoulder as if to keep her from floating away. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me. You know that.”

  Iris’s heart skipped. While Jinn kept his eyes out for their cue, she was captured by his gentleness, drawn in by its soft texture. It didn’t appear very often. But when it did, it made her fingers tingle. She hadn’t realized until this point how much she would miss it.

  She hesitated before speaking next. “Jinn.” She stopped. “You said some experiences are too difficult to face. Is that a personal insight from the life you’ve lived?” She noticed his downturned eyes. “Is that why you’ve never told me about yourself?”

  When Jinn did not answer, Iris pressed her lips together, tugging on her headpiece absently. “I think when I leave,” she started with a little whimsical smile, “I’ll miss your brooding the most. Women seem to love it. Not me, mind, but I’ve gotten used to it over the years.” Her laugh was small and lifeless. “And I’m so talkative,” Iris added, filling the silence between them accordingly. “How did we ever put up with each other? A switch in partners might not be such a bad idea, after all. Maybe you’ll find someone with a longer temper than mine.”

  Iris’s eyes trailed the path up his sandy jawline, recently shaved, to his fierce gaze fixed on the circus ring. “I certainly won’t miss your nagging, though,” she said with another laugh, thankful her shade of skin veiled her blush.

  Still nothing from him. He wasn’t even looking at her. Iris’s body felt numb. “I really wonder if I’ll miss you at all,” she muttered with a solemn tinge.

  “Iris.” Still he watched the stage, waiting for the applause to die. “What do you think of me?”

  And suddenly Jinn was looking at her, and he was very, very close. In that moment, Iris could no longer hear the crowd or the roars of the tiger. Only the soft pounding of her heart, the loud rushing of blood in her veins. “W-what?” she asked.

  Jinn didn’t respond. He didn’t speak again. He just gazed at her, waiting.

  “Jinn!” Coolie entered the backstage area, waving his hands. “I want you to enter stage right. Larry’s gone over time. We’re scrapping the initial floor dancing and starting with the tightrope first. I need you to go to your place—now.”

  It would take some time for Jinn to make his way around the theater stage to the opposite circus entrance. But the show had to go on. Looking over his shoulder at Iris one last time, he hurried to his mark. Iris was still looking at his retreating figure when Coolie pulled her aside.

  “What is
it?” she asked, annoyed. “If we’re starting with the tightrope, I have to climb to my platform soon.” The ladder had already been set up for them, the rope ready for their routine.

  “Yes, I know, I know.” Coolie rubbed his balding head. “I just wanted to have a quick chat with you.” Grabbing her shoulders, he forced her to look outside. “See the royal box?”

  In the center of the first tier was the box that royals and other esteemed guests would sit in to watch the entertainment. Decorated with fine ornaments, it stood out from the rest.

  Iris’s body went limp.

  “I know people in the city who know people in the city, if you understand what I’m getting at,” Coolie said, very proud of himself over his connections’ connections. “Some very important people have come to see you especially. Parliament members, university professors—”

  And him. Adam Temple. He sat in the box patiently, his arms folded over his green vest and fitted black coat. The rowdy audience didn’t seem to faze him, nor did the extravagant-looking woman sitting next to him. She wore a magnificent blue dress, her fiery hair twisting into a braided bun at the top of her head, her black gloves stretching past her elbows. Her little binoculars were trained on the performance.

  Iris’s heart pounded at the sight of him. “Temple…,” she managed, gripping her forehead, but her words prompted Coolie to search the royal box.

  “Him?” Coolie said, upon following her line of sight. He grinned triumphantly, chest swelling. “A member of that illustrious gentleman’s club over on Pall Mall Street. See, Iris? The upper echelons of society are here. Did you know Wilton’s Music Hall on the East End is putting on a private show where each ticket costs a small bloody fortune? Only the top of society can attend and yet look at them sitting here. Here at my show.”

  Iris couldn’t care less about Coolie’s rambling. Adam made something dangerous stir inside her. But Coolie didn’t seem to care about her turmoil. Instead he leaned in and whispered:

  “In the ten years since I’ve known you, you haven’t aged a day. Ten years and you don’t look a fortnight above seventeen. And then this morning…” He paused. “Tell me the truth. You can’t die, can you?”

  Iris couldn’t breathe. She straightened up, afraid to move.

  “Do you think that by being honest with me, it would change our relationship? On the contrary, my dear, I would be ridiculous if I didn’t make you and you alone my star attraction: The Immortal Woman. The Daughter of Osiris. Princess of Death.” He listed off each name with the flair of a circus proprietor who truly believed each one of his ideas was nothing short of true genius. As if Barnum himself would die of jealousy.

  The warm, musty air had suddenly grown heavier. Her whole body seized up in fear.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter what the truth is. All that matters is the money we bring in. And Iris… I need money. Now. More than what these shows will give me.” As if she needed yet another reminder of his insurmountable debt. “Stay, Iris. The house is packed, the guests esteemed. This moment is yours! Stay and let me make you the biggest star in the country, in the world! Bigger than you could have ever imagined!”

  After waiting for her heart to steady, Iris parted her lips. “I’m moving on from performing,” she said in a hollow voice. “I’m sorry.”

  Blessed relief washed over her as Coolie backed away, his hands leaving her shoulders at last and finding his coat pockets. “Losing one of my best acts overnight. What a nightmare. A costly nightmare,” he added darkly. “But I respect your decision. You have my blessing.”

  He turned to leave. “Thank you for giving me one last show, Iris. It will be of good help to me. Good help indeed.”

  Wiping her sweaty palms on her tunic, she leaped out into the ring to thunderous applause and began quickly climbing the steps to her platform. Several blasts of purple smoke shot up from edges of the ring, and their performance began. With her concentration scattered, her body moved on muscle memory alone. The smell of white horses and hungry tigers lingered in the air, rushing into her open mouth as she leaped and flipped. Tricks and lifts. Splits and twirls. Iris and Jinn danced together like they never had before, but all she felt was her rattled nerves.

  At some point, Jinn’s red kaftan and her Egyptian tunic and headpiece flew into the air as they both flipped and drew their weapons hidden underneath. And so they began their battle of steel, their “Bolero of Blades.” The music swelled with chimes and triangles, drums and trumpets as their swords clashed and their feet gripped the rope. Jinn must have sensed her disarray because though he carried out his role, his worried expression spoke volumes.

  But Iris couldn’t allow a repetition of this morning’s blunder. She relied on her body to know what to do while she brought herself back to the moment, to the battle. To Iris’s “death” by her own sword, to Jinn’s cry and loving embrace as their blades fell to the ground. And then a spectacular dismount, swinging from the rope onto the trampoline below.

  As Iris waved to the crowd next to Jinn, she saw Adam grinning brightly. He couldn’t tear himself from the sight of her.

  “You’re shaking,” Jinn whispered, and her hands flew to her bare arms. Indeed, she was. But before Jinn could push forward, Coolie waltzed out into the circus ring—an unannounced, unplanned appearance that left both Jinn and Iris stunned.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the Nubian Princess and the Turkish Prince!”

  As Coolie clapped, two clowns brought out a wooden board painted red and green.

  “You know, in my youth, I was a performer myself!” Coolie said in his booming voice. As the crowd jeered, Coolie waved them off, laughing and holding onto his belly. “Might be a little rounder these days, but what do you say I show you lot some of my old tricks?”

  The crowd hollered and stamped their feet from their boxes. They didn’t know this wasn’t part of the program. Even if they did, it wouldn’t have mattered. In that moment, their cheering felt like the taunting of jackals, their teeth lusting for bloodied prey.

  “And now for our next act, the Nubian Princess shall stand in front of the board!”

  Iris didn’t know what Coolie was up to, nor did she have time for him. But when she turned, she spotted several burly security men offstage blocking her exit. Iris smirked bitterly.

  The longer she lingered, the rowdier and angrier the crowd became. There was no other choice. But the moment she stepped back, Jinn grabbed her wrist. Guilt mingled with an odd sort of elation as she noted his worry for her, but she had to do as Coolie directed, and Coolie knew it too; the crowd would start throwing things soon if she didn’t.

  “It’s okay,” she assured Jinn, patting his hand on her wrist, although knowing Coolie, she wasn’t so sure. After sliding Jinn’s hand off with a gentle sweep, she walked to the board and stood in front of it. And then, once her nerves had settled, she realized…

  This particular board was used for knife throwing.

  Panic filled her as a clown twirled into the circus ring carrying several daggers, which he gave to Coolie with a deep bow.

  The crowd’s bloodlust shattered the roof. Iris immediately boosted herself off the board, but the two clowns forced her back to its wooden surface with unchanging red smiles.

  “Sorry,” one said. Warren. “Coolie doubled our pay.”

  “Let’s see if my aim is still sharp, shall we?” Coolie’s words made the crowd erupt.

  “Jinn!” Iris cried as a knife flew, pinning her to the board through her right sleeve.

  “Coolie!” Jinn bellowed in panic, violently pushing off the clowns who attempted to hold him in place. “What are you doing?”

  Another knife flew. Another one. Faster than the eye could follow. Her left sleeve. Between the knives and the clowns’ grip, she couldn’t move. Jinn was too late to stop the next slew of knives. The murderous glint in Coolie’s eyes was the last sight she spied before she squeezed her eyes tight and awaited impact. The crowd held their collective breath.

  S
ilence.

  Then boisterous applause. The knives had come within an inch of her flesh and braided hair. Finally the clowns released her and twirled away, making their stage exits. Iris tried to catch her breath. Jinn slumped to his knees from shock as Coolie roused the crowd into greater applause.

  There wasn’t a shadow of doubt in Iris’s mind now that Coolie was unstable and his company was no longer a home for her. That man is vile, Iris thought as she stood pinned to the board. Absolutely, certifiably—

  Iris heard the shot before noticing Coolie’s gun, which he’d pulled from his jacket.

  Then she felt the bullet pierce her skull and the impact of her head banging against the wooden board.

  The knives held her lifeless body up as she collapsed and died in the center of Astley’s Amphitheatre

  6

  SHE WAS IN SO MUCH pain. Muffled screams, cheers, and gasps all blended together, indiscernible to Iris. Eventually, as her head’s shattered bones pieced themselves back together, noises carried into her skull once again, filling her ears as if she were swimming in the ocean.

  Distorted. Muddled.

  Except his crying.

  His crying.

  His calling her name.

  Jinn… is that you?

  Stars burst behind her heavy eyelids. She could see galaxies. With a hush they disappeared. Finally she managed to open her eyes, and as she did, she saw Jinn’s wet face leaning over her, drained of blood. When she looked at him, his dark brown eyes went wide in bewilderment, terror, relief. Tears dripped down his nose. His dry lips gaped with a soundless word.

  She felt his rough hands cupping her face, trembling against her skin as her body pushed the bullet out of her forehead. Jinn’s gaze followed the metal, still smoking, as it clattered to the ground.