Circus Wolf (4 page)

“It’s odd, in my journey through each existence, I
never found a woman worthy to span eternity with me—until Tigra. Besides being
an enticing challenge, there’s something super-natural and ethereal about her.”
He felt heat shoot to his groin. “The high eroticism and mystery about her has
convinced me she’d never bore me and would always arouse me. Inconveniently,
trails of other men have felt the same way about her. One by one, I eliminated
them. Rolo was the easiest of all. But they kept coming like ants to honey. Let
them come, if they dare.”

Blacky squawked as if he understood.

Vance laughed.
“Right, Blacky.
In a circus where all acts have inherent danger, there are many creative way to
maim and kill. Rolo learned that.”

 
The raven
flew from his finger and landed back on his perch. At the sound of a car
outside, Vance glanced out the window. It was merely a taxi. No problem there.
Cars could come and go all night as far
as he was concerned—just not cop cars. But the cops would arrive soon.

“The pretend vampires who filed their teeth to
points and slept in coffins gave vampires too much publicity and made it more
difficult to keep a low profile while the humans around me demonstrated their
own predatory propensities,” he told the bird.

He shook his head. The vampire and human world
interpenetrated in odd common bonds, both with virtuous and parasitic
mannerisms.

Grabbing up a pitcher of water, he tipped it and
drank it down without stopping, in an attempt to satisfy his enormous thirst.

“Blast the humans who believe they rule the Earth!
Damn them all to Hell.”

Vance glanced at Blacky for agreement. “Humans
shouldn’t blame or condemn me. After all, everyone has a dark side and before I
was betrayed, I was human just like them. I still possess a partially human
consciousness. I feel pain, passion, a lust for revenge, and overwhelming
desire. And right now I crave a soft, unsuspecting female’s throat between my fangs
and long for her life-sustaining, warm blood.”

He heard light footsteps and fixed his gaze on the
path outside his window. He smiled. It was the luscious tiger queen.

****

Keeping a smooth pace, Vance Skull followed behind
Tigra. When they approached a refreshment stand, he made his move. “Please,
Queen Tigra, wait up.”

She smiled and waited. “What do you need, Skully?”

“I thought we could grab a cup of coffee while I
tell you about my idea for a new act.” He’d learned that with Tigra, it always
had to be about business or she wouldn’t spare the time.

“Okay, but it’ll have to be quick. I’m super busy
and have a bunch of bookwork to catch up on tonight.”

Blast her! Even after five years, he hadn’t been
able to connect with her beyond the wary co-worker stage all the Carney and
circus people share.

“I won’t keep you long,” he said. “Just let me grab
the coffee.” After the guy in the jaunty cap handed him the drinks, Skully led
Tigra to an umbrella table and pulled the chair.

He smiled his widest grin. “
Your
Majesty.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Thanks. Okay, now that we’re
comfy, what’s your plan?”

He winked at her. “I want to up the danger in my act
and make the audience squirm.”

The vibes arcing between them told him she found him
attractive. Or was it just wishful thinking on his part?

After he explained his
no net
idea, she crumpled her empty coffee container and said. “It
sounds good, but our insurance carriers will want safety assurances. Draft a
plan and get your partner to agree to it and I’ll see what I can do. Now, I
must run.”

“Okay, but how about taking time off sometime this
week to do some sightseeing.
There’s
some great
historical places nearby to see. I could rent a car and—”

“Sorry, but I have too much to do.”

“What about just a walk to get our bearings.”

“I appreciate it, Skully, but I like to walk alone.
It’s my thinking time.”

He rubbed the throbbing muscle in his jaw. Damn. Her
refusals might be due to her always being in a relationship with one guy or
another. That was okay. He would win in the end. He always did.

Waiting for her was worth it. One day he’d excite
her passion and taste her blood. Then she’d willingly span lifetimes with him.

Chapter
Six

Tigra inhaled, trying to absorb all the sensual
pleasures of her run through the low brown hills. She hungrily yet warily took
in the sights and sounds, enjoying the magic. Wisps of fog drifted between the
trees like restless ghosts, while an icy wind moaned a lonesome sorrow. This
was a night to sit before a flaming fire, but the isolation of the night made
it the idyllic and safest time to roam the rural landscape. Still, she didn’t
feel totally safe. She’d had the prickly feeling she wasn’t alone in the wilds.
Behind her dried branches snapped and leaves crackled. God, don’t let it be
Skully. He could be a pain in the ass. Heeding the warning, she turned back
toward the circus grounds, running full speed.

Relief shot through her when she caught sight of the
stilled, lightless Ferris wheel piercing the dark, cloudy sky. She keyed into
the safety of grounds, yet the eerie feeling clung to her like tree sap. The
arcade tents and the Big Top’s dim security lighting emphasized the deep
shadows. Most of the caravans were pitch-black. Then she spied the lighted
banner and an arrow of sorrow shot through her. Management still had the banner
of her and Candy up. Her heart grew heavy, thinking about Rolo and Candy. The
tiger attack on Rolo last week in Los Angeles was a human’s fault, yet the
authorities put Candy down. It was so unfair. Someone had drugged her. Tigra
shook her head; tigers were gentle and harmless except in those mysterious
cases when unknown circumstances transformed them into man killers. But this
wasn’t the case here. Someone out to get Rolo was behind this. The drugs the
investigators discovered in Candy’s and Rolo’s stomachs, and bloody meat
drippings on Rolo’s clothing proved that. She felt pressure building behind her
eyes,
then
a lone tear slid down her cheek. She
brushed it away. Quiet anger curled in her gut. The only other thing the cops
needed was the name of the evil culprit who instigated the attack. But with no
clear evidence pointing directly to a perpetrator, when their circus moved on
to this location, the L.A. authorities moved on to another case. Now poor Rolo
clung to life by a frayed thread.

Thinking back at the accidents over the past couple
of years, it seemed something bad happened to every man who had shown her extra
attention. She and Rolo had become fond of each other through working closely
together, but she was his boss and she hadn’t allowed the relationship to bloom
into a romance. And it wasn’t just Rolo she guarded her heart against.
Her loner flaw always battled with her mothering spirit.
Locked into her dual nature, she knew the dangers of having a relationship with
a man that included family and children. She fought any relationship that edged
too close and threatened her heart. Years ago, she’d accepted that being born
with a dual nature wasn’t within the realm of rehabilitation. And because Rolo
didn’t set her pulse to racing, she’d felt the friendship with him was safe.
Unfortunately, he’d proven to want more than her brotherly affection for him.
Now he was close to
death and she felt responsible for letting him go into the cage when his
emotion raced out of balance. If he died, she wouldn’t stop until she proved
who set off the chain of events that took his and Candy’s lives.

 
Because of
the series of other so called “incidents” the perpetrator had to be someone
connected to the circus.

She felt guilty for not putting up a stronger fight
when the authorities appeared to lose interest in the case. If it weren’t for
her absolute need to keep a low profile due to her closely guarded secret, she
would have raised a huge ruckus.

It was getting more and more risky for her to be
associated with the circus. Rumors of thefts had also followed them. In L.A. it
was a priceless painting. In San Diego it was a sterling silver vase worth
several thousand dollars. Now, did the circus and its maze of tents and
caravans hide the priceless golden arrowhead—and the identity of the thief?
Each time a theft was uncovered the police came and questioned the
closed-mouthed circus folks and carnies. And each time they left empty-handed.
Whoever was behind the crimes had to be admired for their efficiency,
intelligence, and self-
preservation.

The trail of thefts was minor compared to the
sinister killings that followed the circus across the country. It became more
apparent each day that either there was a killer among them, or the monster was
a circus follower. Either way, she had to find a way to end his reign of
senseless killing.

There might even be more than one killer in their
ranks. Each time they visited a city the newspapers heralded alarm about a
vampire in the area. Young, beautiful woman were bitten in the neck, drained of
blood and left to die slow agonizing deaths or were outright slaughtered. The
reporters in all their drama called the perpetrator a nefarious
neckaholic
and suggested it was
either a
vrykolakas
, vampire, or a lycanthrope, werewolf to
blame. Now, tigers had joined the list. They’d called gentle Candy a crazed
killer. There was some mention of the Feds being brought in. She didn’t care if
they brought in the military. She just wanted the killing to stop.

Tigra touched her lips. Could a vampire or werewolf
live and work among them? She recalled the eerie feeling of being followed
earlier. No…no a demon traveling with the circus was too ridiculous, wasn’t it?
What about my own secret
? No,
anything was possible.
I’ll have
to stay alert and
wear a cross and carry a sharp stake
. Or was that method of killing
a vampire an old wives’ tale? She touched the silver cross Grandy had given to
her for her thirteenth birthday. Tomorrow she’d start carrying a stake as well
on her runs.

She shook off her uneasiness. The circus was never
totally silent and she felt warmed by the friendly sounds of animals moving
about and their familiar grunts, whinnies, and growls.

Her boss often said her humanness and gentle nature
interfered with her toughness, a toughness needed in her line of work. She
needed extra strength and fortitude to find a way to shield her circus family
from the evil circling around them like vultures.

She rounded the line of rigs and spied caravan
thirteen, Rolo’s place. With him in the hospital in L.A. why were all the
lights on? She frowned. Something was awry.

It was too late to bother the boss.
Maybe Coleman left a message on my cell
.
She headed for her caravan, grabbed her unit off the table, and checked it. She
hadn’t taken her cell into the hills; the rolling mounds blocked the signal and
rendered the unit useless. She pressed play.

“I have a surprise for you,” Coleman said. “It’ll
arrive at your office in the morning.”

She frowned. Her boss’s surprises usually included
something to make more work for her or upped the danger of her act. Maybe he’d
found a replacement for Candy. He’d been trying to acquire a Siberian male, the
world’s largest cat. Well, she’d worry about that in the morning. Right now she
had other plans. She was about to leave, when she heard a rustling on the other
side of the open window. She grabbed a hunting knife and slid it into her leg
holster. “Lurk around at your own risk,” she said loud enough for any peeping
tom outside to hear. Whoever he was, she wasn’t letting him scare her off. She
had things to do before retiring.