The Ladies of the Secret Circus Constance Sayers (e books free to read .TXT) 📖

comedian waiting for a punch line, then laughed like a teenager telling a dirty joke—“in time.”

Mr. Tisdale clapped as if on cue. It was then that Lara noticed that he and Althacazur were wearing matching outfits.

“Forgive me, I should explain because the internet doesn’t do me justice. I am the premier daemon of… well, fun shit. Let me be clear. First, please be sure to put the a in daemon. We hate it when it is left off, makes us look like barbarians. The a is so elegant, don’t you think?” He waited for her reply. “I’m also known as Althacazar”—he emphasized the a—“and Althacazure.” He focused on the very French pronunciation of the latter.

“Quite elegant,” said Lara, finally agreeing.

“Do try to keep up.” He put his hand to his chin like he was considering something. “So, what was I saying? Oh yes, I am the daemon of lust… wine… music… sex… everything that makes the world go ’round is in my purview.”

Althacazur looked down at the adoring monkey. “I know. Mr. Tisdale here was once quite famous himself.” The monkey gazed down at his foot modestly. As if performing a Shakespeare aside, Althacazur leaned in, placing his boot on the ledge again directly in front of her, and whispered loudly, “He might have led a country in his previous life.” He turned to the monkey, who cast his eyes down toward the ground. “Is that fair to say? Well, he doesn’t like to talk about it too much, but let’s say he ruled a country some years back that’s famous for its gelato. Am I right, Tis?”

The monkey looked ashamed, embarrassed at having his identity revealed in this current form.

“Oh, don’t mind him. He’s been a great manager of the circus. He gets a little nostalgic for his old being, but, well… that isn’t to be anymore, is it, Tis?”

The defeated monkey shook his head. Lara was mortified to think that if the clues were correct, the monkey standing in front of her was once… Benito Mussolini?

As if he could read her mind, the poor creature looked up at her, squeaked, and sulked off, his head hanging.

“Oh, Miss Barnes. A little rule. Please don’t say or think the actual names of my creatures in their previous lives. It reminds them of who they once were. You can hint at it, but never say it. Tisdale, Tisdale, come back… she didn’t mean it.”

Althacazur turned to her. “You must understand… everyone in my collection was once a famous performer of some type or another… opera singers… rock stars… politicians. Ah… politicians are the best, by far. Such egomaniacs. I adore them!” He gave a jaunty jerk of his head in Tisdale’s direction. “They’ve all, well, ended up…” He pointed toward the floor. “Down there, as you all like to call it. But I said, ‘Fuck no, we’re going to get a troupe together and allow these poor damned souls to perform again.’ So here we are for one night only—Le Cirque Secret.” He pointed to her. His delivery was over the top, like a vaudeville performer.

The doors opened and hordes of performers emerged—clowns, trapeze artists, bearded ladies carrying house cats in cages, followed by horses and elephants.

Althacazur took the house cats from the bearded lady. He opened the door, and the cats jumped out. “Make sure Tisdale is out of sight.” He turned to Lara. “They try to eat him when they change.”

Lara was confused until Althacazur snapped his fingers and the tabby and the black house cat morphed into a lion complete with a full mane and a black panther, respectively. Lara remembered the passage in Cecile’s diary. “Hercules and Dante.”

“Oh, Miss Barnes, the cats will be so happy to hear that you know them. Come, come…” He motioned for her to join him in the ring. Was he really suggesting she go into the ring with a lion and a panther?

“Yes,” he said, answering her thought. “I am suggesting it. Move your ass, Miss Barnes.”

Lara got up from the velvet throne and stepped gingerly into the ring. The lion noticed her first and walked over to her, like it was sizing her up. Gripped with fear, Lara stood still until the animal paced around her, finally stopping in front of her. Lara reminded herself that in all likelihood this cat was no taller than her shin, but damn, the lion looked real.

“I assure you,” said Althacazur, considering his fingernails. “He’s a house cat. A tiny little thing.” As if on command, the lion roared loudly, causing Lara to scream.

“Hercules,” commanded Althacazur. “Up.” The lion jumped onto a pedestal and sat watching the ringmaster for further commands. “Dante.” The man turned and raised his arms; the sleek black cat stood up on his hind legs. Althacazur patted the cat on the head as he walked past. “Go to Miss Barnes,” he commanded.

Lara could hear his front paws as they landed heavily on the wooden floor. Like Hercules before him, the cat circled Lara before sitting in front of her like a dog. He was so large that in the sitting position, his head was near her throat.

“Don’t give him ideas. Just give him a treat.”

Lara looked confused.

Althacazur sighed, bored.

She could see that his amber eyes with flat pupils stood out vividly. Was that eyeliner? Thick black eyeliner.

“In your pocket, Miss Barnes.”

Lara reached into her pocket and pulled out a Pounce cat treat.

“Give it to him, Miss Barnes. Before he gets pissed. Tell him he’s a good boy.”

Lara extended a shaking hand out to the cat. He turned his head to remove the treat gently with his tongue.

From the pedestal above her, the lion roared loudly.

“I know, I know,” said Althacazur. “But you haven’t done anything for Miss Barnes to earn a treat, have you, Hercules? You lazy animal.”

The lion jumped to the floor and lay in front of Lara like the Sphinx. As if he was waiting for a dramatic point in the routine, he executed a perfect roll. Lara