The slyness in her voice is unmistakable. It glides through her statement and turns the words to oil.
“We have money,” Colt replies.
Her laughter splits the tension in the air like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Money? Come on, I don’t need money. I have literally everything I want. Don’t I, Mr. Floofkins?”
She speaks to the cat.
The tension points in my back pulse harder, sharper. Grayson slides his hand flat, the movement stable. Despite our exhaustion, despite our sickness, Grayson is there and he looks like he can catch me in his arms and keep me safe.
“Money means nothing in the circus. But what I could use…” Charlotte trails off. Her gaze lifts to mine. “Memories.”
Why is that word the single most insidious thing she’s said yet?
“Memories?” I try to remember how to breathe.
“Sure. Those you can use for anything. Missing an ingredient in a spell? Supply a moment of memory from a child’s tenthbirthday pizza party. Got a zit? Take a sip of a memory of the first snow after a woman’s husband died.”
Her lashes flutter down, dark like spiderwebs against her pale cheeks. Charlotte shudders, ecstatic, before she faces us again.
“So what will it be? Do you walk out of here with your cure and a few memories you won’t even know you’re missing? Or let the moon madness take you?”
“It’s an outlandish thing to pay with.” Lacey sputters.
“Not around here.”
There’s no more hint of wickedness in the teen’s smile, as though she understands exactly what kind of position she put us in. Money would have been so much easier.
The bottom drops out from under me.
But seriously…what would I miss about a few memories? I have so many bad ones to spare, the good ones are lost in the haze.
I open my mouth to agree but shouts batter against the wooden trailer.
“Charlotte! It’s time.”
A chill announces the newcomer before the door swings open, the vampire ringmaster’s eyes glowing coal-red. A black burnished-velvet cloak marks his status and the top hat rests against black hair with silver salt around the temples.
Dark kohl liner paints his eyes and emphasizes the silver ring around the iris.
By the time his gaze locks on mine, my insides twist into an impossible maze.
My hands are steady, the rest of me isn’t. I’m staring death in the face, and he’s hungry.
Chapter
Fifteen
Aheartbeat.
A cyclone of pink.
I freeze until Grayson pushes me into motion with a desperation I feel and can’t express.
Mr. Fifi Floofkins gives a plaintive yowl undercut by the roar of the ringmaster. He pushes into the trailer and Colt moves to intercept, slamming the door shut in the older vampire’s face.
A cloud of white gusts in front of my face, the temperature dropping dangerously.
“Go, go!” Colt jerks his head toward the back of the trailer, the tendons in his arms bulging.