Cards & Caravans (14 page)

“Mr. Harris, thank you very much.” Connor pulled out his wallet and handed several ten-pound notes to the other man. “Now do as the gypsy told you and go find a new job. I’d stay out of Newcastle for a while. Things might not be exactly safe.”

Connor left Harris there gawking as he ran into the station to telephone Merrick.

Chapter Ten

Belinda was tired by the time the main show in the tilt began. This was when she closed up the tent for supper, and as usual, Connor was waiting outside the tent to walk her to the dining car.

“Any more trouble?” His gaze raked her up and down as he took her arm. Willow and Rowan fell into step behind them.

“No. Since you spent the rest of the day loitering outside my tent, you ought to know that.”

He tipped his head. “How did you know?”

“A few of the patrons commented, so I asked Alex.” Alex was the juggler who’d taken to entertaining her queue. The seventeen-year-old clown also fancied himself her protector, so he’d been a little stung to have Connor hanging about. Belinda wasn’t about to share that information with her husband.

At dinner, they sat with Melody, Nicky, the menagerie keeper and ticket takers, along with the few others who weren’t involved in the main show. Belinda enjoyed the company of the regular circus folk, even though she no longer felt a part of their world. She knew they’d welcome her back if she chose to stay after this was over but this was a visit to her past, not a permanent return. Belinda appreciated the welcome, but she’d made her choices. Unless Connor asked her for a divorce or separation, her place would be wherever he was. Just because he didn’t love her didn’t mean she couldn’t be a good wife.

It was odd—a few weeks ago she’d have said she was utterly confident and comfortable in who she was. Now, she felt like a green girl all over again. Parts of that were fun and exciting, but it was odd to feel so nervous and uncertain of herself again. Being married to an older man and then widowed, she’d grown old before her time. Being young at heart wasn’t as wonderful as one might think.

“What’s wrong, Belle?” Connor reached across the table and caught her hand, making her realize she’d been staring off into space. “You’re not eating.”

Belinda blinked down at her plate. Normally she loved shepherd’s pie, but tonight her stomach was tied up in knots and the food tasted like sawdust. “Sorry. I suppose I was a little shaken this afternoon.” It was easier than admitting to all her other fears—or hopes.

“Of course.” His jaw clenched. “I should have done more than thrown him out the gates.”

“No.” She pulled her hand away and forced herself to eat. “He didn’t do anything except try to intimidate me. He wouldn’t have gone through with violence. It wasn’t in him. I also didn’t get the idea that he was part of any sort of organized plot. He’s just a sad, somewhat desperate man. He’s lost everything.”

“That’s why I didn’t tear him apart,” Connor said. “It wasn’t easy.”

“That’s because it’s ingrained in you to protect anyone and everyone.” He considered her under his care, so of course he felt obligated to watch over her.

“Well, it turns out to be good that I didn’t hurt Harris.” Connor regaled all of them with what he’d learned that afternoon. “Merrick was able to question the housekeeper at the association headquarters. They have their religious meetings in the basement. It’s the association that’s been instigating problems, partly by riling up the guild members after they’ve ruined their lives. The association, it seems, fancies itself the descendants of the Templars. They believe their magick is from God, and all ‘foreign’ magickal people are evil. They’re starting on the guild level, but intend this to be the start of a grand movement.”

“Unbelievable,” Melody said. “Are we going after them there, rather than waiting for them to find us?”

Connor shrugged. “I don’t know. Merrick said he’d let us—”

A loud crash shook the car, rattling the dishes and knocking the cook’s assistant off his feet. Belinda gasped. “What was that?”

“I don’t know.” Connor was already bolting from his seat. “Stay here.” He looked around and gathered a handful of the younger men as he ran from the car.

Belinda looked over at the Melody and the cook, Angelica Navarro, who held a heavy cast-iron pan in her plump hand. Melody had pulled a massive spanner from her belt. The half dozen or so others in the car had all drawn some sort of weapon, even herself, she saw as she noticed the pocket pistol in her hand. She didn’t even remember drawing it.

Outside the car, shouts could be heard and Belinda looked at the others. “We’re not waiting in here, are we?”

Melody was already running out the door. Angelica shook her head and her frying pan. “Let’s go. This is my circus too.” Her husband, a strongman, was in the tilt, along with most of the others. “My family.”

The six or seven men in the car had already left, trailing behind Connor. Belinda and Angelica made their way outside to find smoke pouring out of the engine compartment, while flames licked around the metal doorway. The huge locomotive hadn’t derailed, not quite, but two of the wheels wobbled precariously on the tracks. No wonder the whole train had shaken.

Connor and the other men worked to get the fire put out. Everyone raced out of the tilt, performers and audience alike. A bucket brigade quickly formed.

“Is anyone hurt?” Belinda asked one of the roustabouts as she handed him a bucket. Paul had been one of the first out the door with Connor. “Do we know what happened?”

“The boiler exploded,” he said. “I don’t think anyone was in there. The boiler shouldn’t even have been lit.”

“It wasn’t an accident.” Liam was one of the first from the big top to reach the train. He still had a pair of trousers on, so obviously it hadn’t been during his act as a wolf. “It was a warning—from someone using magick to come after us.”

“Magick?” Belinda almost lost her grip on the bucket she was passed, but Liam took it from her and strode up to the locomotive to join the men there. Belinda turned to Wink, who was close behind her husband. “Magick?” she asked again.

“That’s what Tom said.” Wink nodded and insinuated herself into the brigade line. Over her shoulder, Belinda saw Tom and Fernando, coaxing the audience into an orderly retreat—probably with the promises that they could bring their tickets back tomorrow for another show. “There was a flash on the stage, when no one was nearby, and a disembodied voice told everyone to leave or die. I didn’t see a mechanism, but Tom said he felt power.”

Another explosion rocked the compound. Belinda kept her footing and looked over to see the carousel engulfed in a cloud of smoke. “That was my grandfather’s,” she whispered. Then she shook herself and added a mental hope that no one was close enough to be hurt. It was shut off during the show, so at least there wouldn’t have been any riders.

“And I repaired it,” Wink snarled. “Oh these bastards are going to pay for this.” She took off running, and leaped the fence into the compound without breaking stride. Belinda envied her the short costume for just a moment as she followed more slowly.

Meanwhile, the crowd stampeded, trying to escape the compound. A woman screamed as she fell, and only Tom, diving after her with his long arms, was able to keep her from being trampled. Two men pushed at each other to get out the gate, blocking everyone until Connor shoved them both out, clearing the way for others. Then Connor and Tom started lifting small children over the fence.

Then another sound was heard over the din and everyone stopped pushing.

Nell stood atop the barker’s small platform and sang, her voice amplified by the ringmaster’s megaphone. The song was a slow, sweet ballad, and the people turned to listen, pausing in their headlong rush. Once she had the attention of all the panicked audience members, Nell inserted instructions into her lyrics, urging them to walk slowly and find their way home. And so they did. With smiles and concern for their fellow man, they helped each other reach the exit then moved on to the train station or to the park beyond where their carriages waited.

“How does she do that?” Belinda didn’t stop running, but the compulsion to walk quietly out the gates was nearly overwhelming.

“It’s just her gift,” Wink said over her shoulder. “I’ve never seen her use it like this. She despises that kind of attention.”

They reached the area around the carousel, which burned like a torch. One roustabout nearby was on his back. His face and arms were red, but he was alive and the two women dragged him back to safety while more of the circus workers gathered to put out the flames.

“The tilt is on fire,” one of the performers shouted. “And the food cart.”

Belinda whirled. Sure enough, the top of the main tent had also gone up in flames. As the last of the guests made their way out the gates, Nell stopped singing and nimbly leaped down off the stage. Like everyone else, she ran to grab buckets. Somebody closed the gates.

“There’s too much fire.” Connor ran up and started waving everyone away from the circus grounds. “Everyone head to the train station—that should be far enough away to be safe.”

Fernando took the megaphone and shouted the same instructions to all his people. Soon, everyone had fled the burning tents and congregated on the far side of the siding. Liam scooped the unconscious roustabout over his shoulder and carried him away from the circus, while most of the others dropped their buckets and followed.

“Get the animals,” someone shouted.

“We’ll take the caravans,” Belinda called back. “The animals can go in those.” The train would probably be safe from burning, but the cars might get too hot or fill up with smoke. The dogs would stay with her and horses could be tied on the other side of the station, but the trained bear and the menagerie animals couldn’t be left to wander.

Connor and Belinda raced toward their caravan with the dogs trailing behind them. Connor used magick to ignite the boiler, while Belinda’s young cousin Nicky loaded the bear into the larger of the two stalls in back and filled the other with the ocelots and lynx from the menagerie. Connor ran off to start up the other caravan, belonging to the acrobats, who loaded the alpacas and peacocks from the menagerie into that one. Nicky put the anteater and tapir into the sleeping compartment of Belinda’s caravan and locked the doors. The dogs stayed with her in the driver’s box as she drove the huge machine over the rough ground to the far side of the train station. Once she’d reached the grassy carriage park, she climbed out, tamping down the boiler flames and locking the dogs inside to keep them from getting anywhere near the conflagration.

“Is everyone here?” she asked Connor when he appeared at her side. “How many injured do we have?”

“Only a few so far.” He squeezed her briefly and kissed the top of her head. “The station master is letting the women and wounded go inside, while the rest of us stay between the tracks and the station to make sure the flames don’t spread. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’m going with you,” she said. “I can help stomp out embers.”

“No.” Connor gave her backside a little push. “Your expertise is needed inside. Go help Nell and Angelica with the wounded.”

Belinda bit her lip. Wink, the woman Connor was in love with, had already run to the front line with her husband. His sister, Melody, was out there in the thick of things, but Belinda was being sent inside like a helpless child. It smarted, but Connor was right—she was more skilled at tending injuries than fighting fires. “Be careful,” she called. Before she turned to run inside, Connor had already gone.

Inside the station, the initial chaos seemed to be settling down. What passengers were there waiting for the last train of the evening were on one side of the room, while the half dozen circus women were on the other with three men laid out on the benches. Angelica had taken charge of the makeshift clinic and nodded at Belinda. “Go find some bandages. Do you have any salve in your caravan?”

“Yes.” Belinda turned and ran the way she’d come. While she didn’t have a huge stock of medicinals in the caravan, she had a few small pots, and clean sheets that could be cut up for bandages.

As she ran around the station house to the caravan, she looked over to the group of circus men wetting the ground between the siding and the station house. Good. They’d rotated the spout of the water tower and were using it to soak the soil. Others had begun rescuing items from the unburned parts of the circus, including the train cars. Belinda was grateful to see Madame Zara’s crystal ball in Nicky’s hands. She was glad some important things had been saved, even while she hated to see them risking themselves for replaceable objects.

Once inside the sleeping compartment of the caravan, she stepped around the tapir dung—
already
?—and reached into the small cupboard for the spare sheets, along with her pot of burn salve as well as one for cuts and bruises. Somewhere, she had some willow bark for pain, but she didn’t take time to find it before hurrying back outside. That could come later.

After nudging the anteater out from under her skirts, she slammed the door shut behind her so the animals didn’t get out and stepped down off the running board. Even from this far away, the air was warmed by the heat of the fire, and flecks of ash fell like snowflakes. Praying for Connor and the others, she started to run toward the station. As she did, she saw two or perhaps three shadows detach from the caravan and close in around her.

Belinda started to run, but one of them reached her. A sharp flash of pain seared her skull and then the world went black.

* * *

Connor stamped out another ember and felt a sting on his shoulder. With an oath, he slammed his palm down on that one and put it out, heedless of the small sting to his hand. The fire at the circus was almost burned out and it hadn’t reached the train, meaning the performers wouldn’t lose their homes along with their livelihoods. The Order, of course, would replace all the burned equipment, but he knew Smith’s circus would never be quite the same, and that was essentially his fault. The knowledge sat heavily on him, but he didn’t have time to worry about it now, not when the breeze was still showering them with stray bits of ash and charcoal.

“Over there!” Melody, who’d apparently remembered to bring her bucket, doused the clothing of one of their workers while she pointed Connor at a small stump in the space between the siding and the main track, which had apparently caught fire—again. Connor took another bucket and filled it in the stream from the water tower, soaking his clothes as he did. Then he carried it over to douse the stump. He turned just in time to see a swarm of men, armed with knives, clubs and guns, pour into the space from around the station house.