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“Do you believe in magic?”
“Ah!” Belle startled, dropping the balls she had been juggling. She looked around the tent and spotted a figure obscured by shadows. She hadn’t expected anyone to be awake this late. Even the circus animals didn’t so much as growl as she walked past their cages toward the performers’ tent.
“You scared me.” She placed a hand over her racing heart.
“You didn’t answer my question,” the stranger pressed. She didn’t recognize the voice, though it sounded like a man’s. Belle hadn’t met all the staff and performers yet. She had only joined the circus a week ago. This was her last attempt to avoid her arranged marriage by running away to a place her father would never look for her.
“Excuse me, could you repeat the question?” She bent to pick up the juggler’s balls, keeping an eye on the shadows.
“Do you believe in magic?” She thought she detected a hint of annoyance in his tone this time.
“No, good sir, I do not. I am not a child.” She snapped back, annoyed for being compared to one. She may be small in stature, but she was no child.
He hummed loudly but did not insult her again, as most men would. How odd. Perhaps she had misunderstood his attentions?
“My name is Belle. I’m the new clown—well, trying to be.” She glared at the balls, wishing she could use magic to make her good at juggling.
“Belle. Beauty. Charming. Alluring. Illusion.”
She had been complimented on her name before, but the way he spoke was almost rhythmic. It reminded her of the fortune teller performing a reading.
A shiver ran down her spine, and her heart started beating faster. Perhaps she should be more worried about being alone with a strange man who didn’t seem to have all his wits.
“It is late. I should take my leave, good sir.” She began walking backward, too nervous to turn her back on the shadow. Instead of walking through the tent’s opening, her back hit something solid. She jumped and turned to find the opening gone. Black mist blocked her path, and when she pressed against it, she could not push through.
“What you see is an illusion. What you believe is a lie. The impossible lurks in the shadows, hunting, waiting—desperate.”
She turned and screamed as golden eyes stared back at her. The man stood an arm’s length away. He wore leather clothing she had only seen performers wear, yet it was too torn and worn for an actor. His skin was covered in greenish scales, and sparks of light danced across it. His shoulder-length hair was too knotted to be called merely curly, and it was so oily she imagined that if she touched it, her hand would be covered in grease.
But it was his eyes that were the most striking. His pupils were slitted, and his golden eyes glowed in the dark, enough for her to make out his visage despite the shadows that seemed almost alive as they clung to him.
The Crocodile Man. She had been told about some of the oddities in the circus. They had mentioned a Dwarf, a Wolf-Girl, and a Crocodile Man. She had assumed they were actors like the other performers, advertised as freaks for the public to gawk at.
She never imagined they were real.
Unable to move, she watched as a taloned hand rose to touch something around his throat. It was hard to see, but it looked like a choker with writing along the sides that emitted a faint glow.
No, it was a collar. There was a metal collar around his neck.
“Do not trust the Blue Star. The Ringmaster hides behind glamours and charms. Tread carefully, or you will also be trapped here, becoming just another part of her collection, part of the illusion.”
She stumbled back, but once again the void blocked her path. The darkness engulfed the tent like a wave. She could no longer see the bleachers or the stage. Her vision narrowed until only the thing in front of her remained.
The sound of drums grew louder, beating in time with her pounding heart. How had she never noticed them before?
Wait.
The circus always wheeled the stage away after a performance, and the tent was always locked at night. How had she gotten in? How long had she been here? Why would she ever have agreed to be a clown? Surely, she could have taken a more suitable position. In fact, what was her pay? She had to be getting paid. Otherwise, this was no better than slavery. What even was the circus’s name? How could she not know its name! Had she ever joined at all? She couldn’t remember.
She couldn’t remember.
Remember.
Remember.
Something was wrong. Wrong. Wrong—
Illusion.
The creature lunged, grabbed her by the shoulders, and slammed her against the dark wall. It started screaming as it shook her.
“Find the wand, set us free! Find the wand, set us free! Find the wand!”
Belle sat up with a gasp, sweat pouring down her face, her heart pounding so fast she feared it would stop. She was in her tent, the one the previous clown had used before he abruptly left. It held only a cot, a trunk, a changing screen, a full-length mirror, and a table.
Her sheets were soaked with sweat, and she was startled to find tears streaming down her face. “What? Why am I crying?” Why did it feel as if chains were squeezing her heart? She had never had a nightmare as vivid as that one, and she had certainly never awoken from one feeling sad rather than terrified.
That monster had been horrifying. Yet, when she thought back on the foggy remnants of the dream, she couldn’t help but think it hadn’t been screaming but pleading with her.
“How odd.” She shoved down the feeling that she was forgetting something important. After all, one never could recall their dreams perfectly. It was just a nightmare.
Magic wasn’t real.
She went about getting ready for the day and dropped her evening gown in front of the mirror to change.
Both of her shoulders were covered with purple bruises.
Belle’s hands shook as she pressed on a bruise, a sharp stab of pain shooting through her. Her reflection stared back with wide, frightened eyes, and she could have sworn she heard the beat of drums.
“Illusion,” she whispered into the darkness.
The mirror cracked.