Broken People (Serial)

Thirty-Two

For the second time that evening, Nicholas entered the mayor's box. "How's it going?" he asked quietly, leaning against the archway. "Is everything to your liking?"

"It's stupendous," Ternchiev said, oblivious to the tension in the couple sitting beside him. "I knew your act, but I had no idea the rest of the acts were this good. We should have brought you in a long time ago!"

How could he know when he'd banned the circus from town? Someone as important as the mayor would not lower himself to mingling with those "circus freaks". "The audience has been thinning lately, so we were forced to step up our game. Bigger shows, better productions, more money ... You know how it is."

"Bigger shows indeed." Ternchiev nodded, his eyes glued to Riella's light body, spinning inside a wide circle four meters above the stage. In the spotlight, her mane danced like a flame around her.

The talks with management to bring in her silks had failed. The theater safety rules didn't allow her to use them without a safety line, and Riella's first attempt to work the silks with the line on had been a disaster. In the end, she had settled for the circle. There was no need to say she wasn't happy about it. But the combination of red circle, red hair, and skin-colored costume made for an impressive act, and the mayor obviously appreciated it. The majority of the men inside the hall didn't need the Nightingale's help to have impure thoughts when faced with that sight.

Nicholas had some impure thoughts of his own, except his focused on murdering her. The silver sparkles decorating Riella's costume caught his attention from the start because this wasn't the design they had agreed on. As soon as the glitter intensified, enveloping her body in white fire for a brief second, Nicholas clenched his fists tightly, annoyed by the deviation from the script. Then it stepped outside the script completely. The spinning circle released sparks into a personal fireworks show.

The audience gasped as thousands of shooting stars filled the cupola of the theater with scintillation and smoke. The projectiles burned away to nothing before they reached the audience, leaving behind a layer of smoke that partially obscured the ceiling. With the spectacle they created, no one paid attention to the ceiling curving above the stage and the dust falling off.

Nicholas focused on the affected parts of the infrastructure and extended his power towards them. He had little experience working with whole buildings from such distance and without physical contact, but he did his best to keep the support beams from breaking. Other than saving one of the gymnasts who had fallen off the pyramid once, he hadn't practiced regularly to get a better command of his "talent", and had avoided using it altogether when he could. He had a good reason for doing so. No one could force telechargers to use something they had no control over, and mastering took time—time they didn't have.

His muscles cramped from the strain, and cold sweat ran down Nicholas's temples when stilt men emerged from behind the curtains, accompanied by Spinner on one side and Rake on the other. The stilt men's legs elongated unbelievably high, and they lifted the knife throwers to the ceiling. They stuck their knives into the plaster, through to the oak beams, anchoring themselves there. They held the ceiling together with the sheer force of their arms. Those in the audience who noticed seemed to think it was part of the show.

Nicholas tugged at the power waves to test the resistance of the edifice and released part of his hold. It was not as bad as it could have been, just a series of cracks that Spinner and Rake had under control. Once they disassembled all of the props and cleared the stage, the danger would be gone. For now, it only needed to hold a little while longer. How long would it take the public to leave the hall? Ten minutes? It was still risky, but doable. He tipped his hat, signaling to close the show.

The circle descended with Riella and, as the air cleared and the music stopped, the crew filled the stage. The performers aligned near the edge and stared at the public. More lights went on, this time aimed towards the seats. One spotlight focused on the mayor's box, revealing not one, but two men standing.

Armstrong had jumped out of his seat while Nicholas was struggling to prevent the catastrophe, and sported a look of understanding when the two men locked gazes. So he knew. What Nicholas had tried to avoid for years had finally happened, but maybe they could come to an agreement—something worth considering, for sure. Aurore also stared at him, though with a less surprised look. She had probably known all along, or at least suspected, as few things escaped her. Nicholas didn't worry about her since the Golden Lady had a few secrets of her own. Luckily, Ternchiev was fascinated by the scantily clad dancers and didn't have a clue.

Unclenching his jaw, Nicholas managed to force a smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us tonight!" He raised his voice and stepped closer to the rail of the balcony. "We hope you enjoyed the show and that this glimpse into our world didn't frighten, but inspired you. Of course, none of this would have been possible without the support of Mayor Ternchiev here—" He extended a hand towards the older man, who nodded and smiled, pleased by the acknowledgement, "—so our thanks go to him."

Nicholas clapped his gloved hands, and a round of polite applause echoed inside the hall. "Thank you all for your time and patience, and we hope to see you again next year. The Nightingale Circus wishes you ... good night!"

The performers took a deep bow, and when they straightened again, the masks were gone, revealing smiling, perfectly human-looking faces.

The audience burst into wild applause.