Ink in the Blood by Kim Smejkal
Author:Kim Smejkal
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HMH Books
Chapter 19
They returned too late to scale the fence and dissolve into the bustle of the Mob’s final preparations. Anya led the way through to the main gate, pushing a path to the front through the assembled crowd.
The stilt walker at the gate leaned down and turned the color of her name when she recognized the people under the makeup. “Are you kidding me?” Lilac hissed. “Kitty Kay is screaming for your heads right now!” She called for Ravino, and he used his murderous Savant persona, covered in blood and grinning as if he’d thoroughly enjoyed eating those children, to keep the crowd at bay while the three of them squeezed through the gates.
A few outraged shouts of “queue jumpers!” and “they didn’t pay!” rose up from the crowd.
Ravino bellowed right back. “The first of the blood offerings tonight, but not the last!” As he outlined the criteria for getting devoured by the hungry maw of the Rabble Mob of Minos, Celia, Anya, and the plague doctor flew toward their wagons to change. Ravino’s stalling, while a prime effort, wouldn’t last long; he wasn’t accustomed to monologuing.
Kitty Kay intercepted the plague doctor by throwing his mask and some colorful words at him. Grisilda and Fawn, hands linked, ready to open the night as Passion, herded Anya toward her new position in their act, Remy and her friend trailing behind with Anya’s angel dress.
Celia darted toward the main stage, where she would wait, out of sight, until the end.
The Palidon waited for her by the back entry to the stage. “You went into Malidora.” Vincent’s mouth might have said those words, but Celia’s clenched stomach told her it wasn’t Vincent saying them.
Georgio launched themself past where Celia had stopped, tossed her costume at her, and continued on up the stairs. “Half an hour, tops.” They’d sweated through their costume already, dark crescents smiling under their arms. “Here.” They doubled back a moment later with a wet cloth, their wide-eyed Fazzi mask dangling from their ears.
And then Celia and Diavala were alone.
“We went to stir up some interest in the show.” Celia tried to steady herself with the rhythmic removal of her makeup. Wipe in small circles, Remy had told her. It doesn’t hurt as much.
“Did you.”
She balanced Diavala’s monotone, emotionless words with overenthusiasm. “We led a parade!”
A long pause.
Small circles, change direction, more small circles. Her makeup had started off yellow and red, but now it stained the cloth a cockroach brown. The crowd’s chanting had increased to a dull roar as Ravino’s story wound down.
Diavala took the devil dress from Celia’s hands, deftly undoing the clasps that Celia’s shaking, tired fingers couldn’t manage. Lifting the dress over Celia’s head and pulling it down, she smoothed the tulle, positioned the forked tail, adjusted the slimy scales on Celia’s shoulders.
The silence felt poisoned. Acrid, like a festering sore.
While Diavala fastened the long line of clasps at Celia’s spine—snap, snap, snap—cool fingers brushed her skin.
“You seem to forget how well I know you, Inkling.
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