The Carnival of Lost Souls : A Handcuff Kid Novel (18 page)

Both T-Ray and Jack jumped as Mussini’s thunderous
voice erupted backstage. They rushed across the stage and slipped behind the heavy velvet curtain. Mussini stomped around, waving his arms wildly as he huffed and puffed. Tears streamed down Violet’s face. He grabbed her by the hair. She yelped like a kitten being held up by the scruff. Like most adults Jack had encountered over his life span, Mussini’s actions were purely self-serving. He was nice when nice got him what he wanted, and he was cruel when cruelty got him what he wanted, too. At times, Jack wondered where the butt-kicking patron saint of pushed-around kids was when he needed him, because he sure wasn’t here. Jack clenched his fists. He couldn’t stand watching Mussini yell at Violet.

“Stop it!” Jack blurted out. “Stop it! You’re hurting her.”

Mussini whirled around, tossing Violet to the ground. “Shut your mouth or I’ll sack you.” The huge man snorted and took a step toward Jack, then thought better of it, turned around, and stormed off. Jack and T-Ray rushed over to Violet.

“What’s he talking about?” T-Ray said.

Violet stood up shakily and brushed the tears away from her face.

“Did he hurt you?” Jack said.

“He’s angry at me again, T-Ray.” Her violet-colored eyes glistened with tears.

T-Ray gave Violet a sympathetic look. “Because of the song.”

Jack stared at the two of them, baffled. They obviously knew something he didn’t.

“What was wrong with the song you sang? I thought it was nice—not that I’m an expert or anything.”

“It was too depressing, too dull and boring, according to Mister Amazing,” Violet said, crossing her arms.

“The dead want an upbeat act,” T-Ray whispered to Jack.

“But the act with Jabber was great. Everyone was laughing.” Jack couldn’t figure it out. “One of the best of the night.”

“It’s not enough,” Violet said. “It’s never enough.”

“Maybe we can help you. There has to be something we can do,” Jack said.

“There is something!” The great hulking figure of Mussini pushed through the curtains, making them all jump. T-Ray fell over a trunk and onto the floor.

“What! What do you want me to do?” Violet recoiled from the man, wrapping her arms around herself.

Mussini sneered at violet, as if he took the slight personally. “Get out! That’s what you can do! You’re fired.”

“What?” Violet said, her eyes going wide. Her voice cracked. “But I haven’t got anywhere to go.”

Mussini threw the red cape that violet wore for the wolf act at her. “Go work for someone else.”

“No! She can’t go.” T-Ray scrambled to his feet and held on to violet’s skirt.

“If that’s what you want, then I’ll go.” Violet faced T-Ray. “It’s all right,” she whispered, then turned and ran from the theater.

Everything had happened so fast that at first, Jack just stood there. Most of the time he stayed out of other people’s arguments, but he couldn’t let her go out into the streets all by herself.

Jack darted out of the theater and ran after Violet. She was quick. The streets were dark, lit by faint gas lanterns, giving the whole scene a haunting glow. He followed the shadow of her, the scarlet cape with the hood pulled over her head. He wandered behind her as she ran through the narrow streets, some paved with packed-down earth, and others paved with uneven stone. Violet slowed down. Jack matched her pace, catching his breath. Suddenly, she took off again. She must have seen him. Violet ran like someone was chasing her, but without direction. Jack had been moving through the dark streets of his life like that for a long time. It wasn’t hard for him to keep up with her.

The smell of roasted meat wafted through the air. Jack’s stomach growled, and he was relieved to see Violet duck inside a dingy tavern. Posted in the dirty window was a sign with
Help wanted
scribbled on it. He was about to walk into the shop when someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him down an alley. His feet were kicked out from under him as a storm of hands grabbed at his clothes and pulled him deeper into the
dark crevices of brick, far from the meager streetlamps. He felt like he had been shoved into a meat locker and bounced between cold, hard bodies. The smell of wet earth was thick and cloying. Jack kicked and pulled out of his captors’ hands. When he looked at the group of boys that surrounded him, he was sure of one thing—they were all dead.

A pale, gangly kid pushed his way forward. “Where’ve you been, Skimmer?”

“Skimmer? What’s a skimmer?” Jack asked as he inched his way away from the group.

“Not a what, a who. And he’s you. Why you been hiding?” The kid stuck his blue-tinged face so close that Jack felt a waft of cold air brush against him.

“You got the wrong guy. I’m not Skimmer.” Jack glanced down the alley, looking for an escape route, but the group moved as if anticipating his need to run.

A kid wearing an old-fashioned newsboy cap hooked his thumbs under his suspenders and came forward. “I don’t think that’s him. He smells funny. Like grass.”

The pale boy snorted and narrowed his eyes. “He sure looks like Skimmer.” He sniffed and rubbed his chin. “Hey, wait a minute,” he said as if slowly realizing the obvious. “You’re not dead!”

Voices erupted among the group. Cold hands reached out and pushed him, closing in on him. Jack’s back rubbed up against a brick wall.

“We should end it for him. Put him out of his misery,” the newsboy said.

“I’m just fine,” Jack said quickly. “I’m not in any misery.”

“You will be. Didn’t anyone tell you? We don’t like your kind.” A kid wearing a baseball jersey swung a well-worn bat near his head.

“Look, you guys got the wrong kid. I’m supposed to meet a friend, so just let me go and I’ll be out of your way.”

“The best way to get rid of your kind is to make you one of us,” the pale boy said.

“Yeah, dead like us. Then you’ll be normal. And not freakish.” The newsboy snapped his suspenders.

Jack stood tall. “The dead liked me fine at the show last night. And Mussini likes me fine. I work for him, so unless you want to take my place, I’ll be going.”

The pale kid rolled up his sleeves, revealing stick-thin arms covered in cuts and scrapes, scars and old wounds. He smiled thinly. “I’m not afraid of Mussini. And Skimmer owes me, so since you’re the best I got, you owe me.”

“Owe you what?” Jack knew from experience his best bet to get out of this alley was to keep the kid talking, because if he was talking, he wasn’t hitting.

“My share of the skim!” He snatched Jack up by the shirt, wide-eyed and manic. His clammy knuckles pressed into his neck. “And I’m getting it from you if I have to break every bone in your warm body.”

“If you tell me what a skim is, maybe I can get it for you.” Jack gritted his teeth as icy fists twisted into his skin.

The kid paused, seemingly thinking it over. Finally, he released his grasp and took a step back, giving Jack some room. “Skimmer’s a skimmer. He cruises a crowd and skims stuff right out of their pockets and person. He was working our street, so he owes us a cut of the take.”

“Skimmer’s a thief?” Jack asked.

The baseball jersey kid poked Jack with his baseball bat. “You got it, Liver! Ha, get it? He’s alive, so I called him Liver!”

“Liver! That’s your new name. And since it’s such a good name, we won’t kill you right away, ‘cause then it wouldn’t be funny anymore,” the pale kid said.

A whistle shot down the alley, pulling everyone’s attention away. “It’s Skimmer!”

“Skimmer’s back!”

For a few seconds the kids completely ignored him as a shadowy figure wearing a dark jacket approached. Jack wanted to run, but he couldn’t move. The closer Skimmer got, the more Jack felt stuck. He was looking at his own face, only paler, with dark blue shadows under his eyes and down his neck. Skimmer’s expression shifted quickly—eyes darting, mind racing. He walked right up to Jack and held out his hand to shake, and Jack saw that each finger had a fat, gold ring on it. He gripped
Jack’s hand too hard and Jack bit his lip. The other boys cheered as Skimmer held his hands up and wiggled his jeweled fingers.

“Is this what you boys were looking for?”

Skimmer pulled the rings off of his fingers one by one and passed out the stolen gifts. Bracelets and long gold chains spilled from up his sleeves. He showered the boys with gaudy golden loot.

Jack couldn’t stop staring. Looking at Skimmer wasn’t quite like staring into a mirror, but like looking at another version of himself—a copy. The closer he looked at Skimmer, the more he noticed all the little things that made them different. He was a little taller and not as thin as Skimmer. His hands weren’t as rough. But the worst part was the look in Skimmer’s eyes. It was dark and bitter. Prowling the streets of the underworld, stealing trinkets off the dead, was a life that left Skimmer looking drained, like a husk of a kid. And when Jack looked around, he realized all the kids looked that way.

“You looking to join the gang?” Skimmer asked.

“No. I was just minding my own business when these guys grabbed me.”

“Maybe it’s fate then. Or good luck. Are you a lucky kid?”

Jack thought about it for a nanosecond. “No, but I do OK.”

“We could use someone like you. We could be a
team, seeing as you could be my long-lost brother. We could plunder these streets good. Join us.”

“Can’t. I work for Mussini. But I’ll keep you in mind.”

“So, what if we want you to stay? What then?” The pale kid’s pockets overflowed with gold chains.

“Let him go.” Skimmer held up his hand. “He’ll come around.”

“Thanks, but I doubt it.”

“You haven’t been here that long. You’ll see.”

Jack didn’t stick around to argue. He took off down the alley, rounded the corner, and ducked into the tavern that Violet had gone into earlier.

He dove under the windowsill so he could hide and still get a good look at the street as the boys ran by. He was in the clear for now.

Firelight wavered behind an iron grate, and flickering candles lined the bar, giving the shadowy room a sense of uneasy activity. The dead took on a new aspect to him now. Patrons roared with laughter, sloshing their drinks on the tables. The bottoms of Jack’s shoes stuck to the floorboards as he crept across the room.

Violet was talking to the bartender, whose arms were so hairy it looked like he was wearing long sleeves. He blew his nose into a rag, handed Violet a piece of paper, and went back to serving drinks. Hand-washing was a formality—the Forest of the Dead didn’t really need a
health code. Jack slid down into the seat next to Violet at a rickety table. She barely looked up at him.

“You’re a fast runner,” he said. “Especially for someone wearing a long skirt.”

Violet tried to smile, but it wasn’t a convincing one. They ordered a meaty stew and crusty bread. Jack shoveled the food into his mouth. Violet pushed her spoon through the stew, not taking more than a few bites.

“It won’t be so bad working here.” She glanced up at Jack. A group of rowdy dead guys in the corner tossed chewed-on corncobs and chicken bones onto the floor while they guzzled down mug after mug of murky ale. “Though some of the patrons have deplorable table manners.”

“Talk about a dead-end job.” Jack couldn’t imagine Violet working in a dump like this. Since his recent run-in with the dead gang, he realized how dangerous the dead were, and being alone made her a vulnerable target.

“It was sweet of you to come. But you shouldn’t be here. Mussini will fire you, and then you’ll be no better off than me.”

“I’m not going to just leave you here. It’s not safe.” Jack glanced out the window.

“That’s very noble, but I don’t need rescuing. But you could help me fill out this application.” Violet brushed
some bread crumbs off of the highly stained paper. “Obviously I’m not the first to apply for the job,” Violet said, attempting to find a place on the page where a name hadn’t been written in and scratched out.

“At least they recycle.” Jack could only imagine what had happened to the previous applicants.

“Let’s see. Name—Violet. Skills—hmm. Well, I can sing terribly boring songs and dance a little and oh, yes, recite dreadfully long monologues by heart.”

“I wouldn’t put that down.” Jack glanced around the room. “I don’t think you want to entertain in a place like this.”

“Oh, right. Too many ruffians. Well, I can serve drinks and cook a little.”

“Why are you still here?” Jack asked. “You’re dead, you could just move on and leave the forest forever, right?”

“I’m not ready,” she snapped. “I did a bad thing, a very bad thing that I can’t move past.”

“How bad could it have been? You’re a nice girl.”

“I’m from an earlier time. There were expectations of girls. My parents arranged a marriage for me, in exchange for our family’s financial security.”

“They sold you to a guy for money?” Jack simplified.

“It was for the deed to our land, for the property and horses, so my parents and family would be taken care of. I was the prettiest girl for miles and miles. I had suitors lined up, and all I had to do was stay. But
I was too selfish. I wanted true love and adventure. So I ran away with a vaudeville charlatan who promised me a life filled with fame and fortune. And then he sold me to Mussini. My fate was to be a treasure sold to the highest bidder, and I abandoned my family. I can’t forgive myself, my selfish ways. At least here I can try to take care of my new family, the boys. Though now I’ve lost them, too.”

Jack’s heart ached for Violet. It wasn’t her fault, then or now. He had to think of a way to help her stay with the gang. And then something occurred to Jack. Why hadn’t he thought of it earlier? It was perfect. He smiled at her. She raised an eyebrow into a highly annoyed arc.

“Why are you so happy all of a sudden, while I’m in misery?”

Jack leaned over the table. “Because I just thought of a perfect plan to save you from this awful place.”

“Oh, really? Are you going to give me a job, Jack the Kid?”

“That depends. How good is your memory?”

“It’s sharp as a tack. Why?”

“What about your ability to keep secrets?”