The Nightingale Circus by Ioana Visan

crew. Nicholas stayed until the intermission to
make sure but felt no power shift. He recognized the couple from
the coffee shop as the ballerina and the tall aerialist. All of the
performers seemed to have prosthetics with various add-ons needed
in their line of work, still, that was all there was to it.
    Satisfied with his assessment, Nicholas
slipped out of the yellow and blue striped tent before the show
ended and returned to the train station. He retrieved his suitcase
and dragged it across the railway tracks to the last car of the
circus train. The square panel on the door required him to place
his palm on it, and he did, although his handprint wasn’t going to
be recognized. However, the small surge of electricity he sent
scrambled the security system enough for the door to slide
open.
    Nicholas tossed his suitcase inside and
climbed in. The light switched on automatically, revealing boxes,
lots of boxes, and not much else. It could have been worse. He
wasn’t sure how, as the temperature was only a few degrees warmer
than outside, but he supposed he could have walked into the
animals’ car. That would have been quite unfortunate. Shivering, he
put on the tailcoat, top hat, and gloves, sat on a box, and
waited.
    Half an hour after the show ended, the circus
announcer, a heavy man with a green-tinged complexion and dark
patches spread over his skin huffed and puffed his way inside. “If
this is your way of catching a free ride—”
    “I’m not catching a free ride,” Nicholas
said, standing up from his box, though he would have to settle for
that if his plan failed. The man had brought no reinforcements, and
that said something. He wondered what it meant.
    “What do you want then?”
    “A job. I’m your new magician.”
    The man gave him an up and down look. “We
don’t need a magician. The audience these days is too clever for
cheap tricks.”
    “Not like my tricks.” Nicholas pressed his
hand on an empty spot on the wall, and when he removed it, its
outline remained clearly burned in place.
    “Don’t damage my property.”
    Grinning, Nicholas ran his palm over the same
spot on the wall. The mark vanished.
    “Hmm.” The circus announcer scratched his
chin. “If I’m not mistaken, this is taxing on the body. Are you
prepared to do it every night?”
    “Sure. If you feed me well enough…”
    “The food is not an issue … but can you dress
it up a little? We don’t want to scare our customers.”
    Nicholas held up his hand, and blue flames
enveloped his fingers. An optical illusion, but still
impressive.
    The large man wrinkled his nose and sniffed
the air, catching him in the lie. “I thought you were a
telecharger.”
    “Let’s say I am that, too.”
    “There are other ways to put your abilities
to good use. Why run away with the circus?”
    “I’m tired of running and hiding,” Nicholas
said.
    “We’re constantly on the move. The circus
rarely stays in one place longer than a week.”
    “I need a place where I can rest and feel
safe … at least until the war ends. Can you guarantee that?”
    “We protect our people.” The circus announcer
nodded. “But I do have some conditions. One. You have to get along
with the Nightingale.”
    Nicholas shrugged. “I have no problem with
her as long as she doesn’t try to get into my head.”
    “She doesn’t do that to the crew. Two. You
must always help protect the Nightingale. This circus is still
running because of her.”
    “I can do that. I can also help prevent
accidents or…” Or whatever they needed as long as they kept their
demands reasonable.
    “That would be nice. We’ve had some over the
years. The equipment is failing and … well…” The circus announcer
sighed, and his complexion became slightly greener. “Three. You
must never, at any cost, disclose the Nightingale’s identity. This is a deal breaker, and it will get you killed if you
slip.”
    “I have yet to run into anyone able to make
me speak against my will.