Chapter One
Chilled night air fell over the barren fairgrounds. The grating tune of the carousel turning on its rusted gears collided with the calliope's monotonous playing, creating a cacophony of noises in the air.
The strong smell of whiskey was everywhere, as well as burnt grease and cheap perfume, courtesy of the ragtag crowd emerging from the surrounding shadows. Sounds of rowdy laughter and squeals echoed through the misty night.
A cluster of small booths, rides, and tents were arranged in the center of the field, vendors selling everything from booze and food to jewelry and clothing items. However, the majority of the pedestrians' focus was towards a single destination; a large tent erected in the middle of the grounds.
A squatty-looking man, the barker of the circus, was standing at the entrance taking money for the show. He had a round, doughy face with tiny black eyes set close together and deep within his head. His tuft of brownish-grey hair was in disarray about his head, and several questionable specks moved about inside of it.
"Tonigh' should be a full 'ouse, Monsieur Elrick." The chubby man coughed. "There've been sev'ral newcomers since last show." He raised the burlap sack he was using to collect the entrance fee, smiling in glee when he rattled the coins inside. "Heehee… people sure do love a good freak show."
Behind him, dressed in the bright red-and-white outfit of a ringmaster, was a tall, thin man. He was slightly pale with deep brown eyes, almost the color of graveyard soil. Long midnight hair was held behind him in a low ponytail, and his eyes raked over the throng of misfits surging before him.
As the last of the crowd entered the tent, the man, now known as Elrick, smirked slightly at the shorter man. "It would seem to me that not all of the freaks are inside their cages tonight, Greado."
The squatty man laughed while Elrick pulled out a small pocket watch from his breast pocket, opening it with a small click. As a haunting melody began to play, his face broke into a genuine smile. "Ah, such a wonderful song… don't you think?"
The smaller man quirked a brow at his boss. "Eh, sure thing, sir. But don't you think you should head inside? The show's sure to start soon."
The ringmaster, who had begun to sway gently to the music, quickly snapped the watch shut, an irritated sigh escaping his lips. "Yes, yes, I suppose you're right." He cocked his head as the sound of off-key trumpets met his ears and nodded to himself.
"Well, let's get another show under way. Our 'lovely audience' isn't going to entertain themselves."
Greado cackled at this. "Well sir, I fink we could just frow one of the hussies in the crow' into the cenner of the ring, and they'd be plenny en'ertained."
He and Elrick shared a laugh at the thought, before another round of trumpeting met their ears. The ringmaster placed his top hat squarely on his head and strolled to the tent flap.
Greado turned back to his money sack to begin counting out the night's earnings, but he was interrupted one final time by Elrick.
"Oh Greado… be sure to wake up Anya for the final act. Make sure she is… presentable, as usual."
The short man grimaced, then turned and faced his boss, bowing slightly. "Yes, sir. She'll be perfect, as she a'ways is."
The tall man nodded. "Good. See that it's done."
Greado waited until he was sure that Elrick had left before turning and muttering to himself. "Damn girl and her damn voice. 'Ow the 'ell did she even get him to take 'er, the ruddy urchin?"
He continued to grumble quietly as a troupe of new customers walked up to the tent.
Lucille silently cursed her bad luck as the fivesome wandered across the dew-soaked turf. The field was filled with drunkards and floosies, and the smell of sweat and gin was everywhere. Her hand tightened unconsciously around her escort's, the flea looking down in concern before returning a comforting squeeze.
How could Raoul think this was a good idea? I mean, I can understand him dragging me or Emile into this mess, but why make poor Maud come along? And to bring Franceour, of all people, to a freak show?! He must be going insane!
What had started this whole mess had been the pompadoured man barging into her dressing room while she and Francoeur had been practicing for a show, waving five tickets around his head and begging them all to go with him.
After being told what the tickets were for, exactly, Lucille outright refused.
"That is definitely not a venue I wish to be associated with! Besides, did you even think of what might happen to Francoeur if he were found out?!"
Raoul rubbed his face. "Aw, come on Lucille! It's just a freak show! And nobody will even notice him, they'll all be focused on the ring!"
After being told off several times, Raoul had threatened to get Emile and Maud involved, saying they were his only true friends (a classic tactic from him).
And so, one thing had led to another, the couple eventually being convinced to go… on the condition that Francoeur and Lucille accompany them, of course.
And so there they were.
Maud snuggled closer to her boyfriend, feeling uncomfortable with the amount of people in the crowd. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…" She caught sight of a couple passionately kissing, her cheeks reddening. "Oh my…"
Emile tugged at his collar, feeling a bit flushed. He leaned closer to Raoul, muttering in his ear. "Maybe we should leave…"
"Nonsense!" Raoul waved his hand dismissively, straightening his hair with one hand. "It's all just harmless fun. Besides," he said from the side of his mouth, "the tickets are non-refundable. Just think of it as a cheerful outing… just with fixed games… and… drunk people…"
Francoeur looked around everywhere he could. His head was moving so fast it looked about ready to come off. The lights from the carnival rides, combined with the smell of the food stands and the funny-looking oddity posters had him spellbound. Though he was a bit distracted by his new surroundings, he kept close to the small redhead, making sure she was always beside him.
Ever since the Maynott fiasco, Lucille, Raoul, Emile, and Maud had been teaching the flea how to speak. They started slowly, pointing at objects and such so he could learn their names, and moving on from there.
He wasn't fluent yet, but he was close enough to be understood.
After he had adjusted to Parisian life, the flea had begun to realize that he felt something for the petite woman that had rescued him. After several months of experiencing the slightly fuzzy pain, he had spoken to Lucille about it. She confirmed it to be love, since she felt the same way towards him. With their friends' blessings, the two had begun to court.
Francoeur sniffed several times, inhaling the tempting aromas floating about them, before freezing. A distinct smell had risen above the others, and he had to find where it was coming from. Laying a gloved hand on his love's shoulder, he gently tugged at her dress sleeve. "Lucille…"
She stopped. "What is it, Francoeur?"
He motioned to the air. "Smell… good smell."
Lucille nodded. "Yes, I suppose the food does smell appetizing, Francoeur. But we're not getting anything tonight."
He chirruped, shaking his head. "No, different smell. Smells like… Lucille."
The woman blinked, clearly confused. "What smells like me? Are you catching my perfume?"
He furrowed his brow, frustrated that he couldn't get his message across to her. He shook his head again, dismissing his statement. "Nevermind. Not im-por-tant."
Though intrigued by his interest in whatever he had smelled, Lucille didn't press Francoeur for answers. He'll find a way to tell me if he really wants me to know.
When they reached the main tent, Raoul sauntered up to the barker. "Good evening, my good sir!"
The pudgy man just glared at him. Straightening his vest with a nervous chuckle, Raoul straightened his sagging hairdo. Greado hocked and spat over his shoulder. "Do ye got your money, then?"
Raoul paled, "Er, well, I have tickets for tonight's event. We… didn't know we had to pay…" He could feel a certain redhead's ire burning into his back.
Greado snorted. "Ticket's fine. Money's jus' for those've not got'em."
Heaving a large sigh of relief, Raoul handed over their tickets. Greado counted them, then he counted their group, frowning as he did so. "'Ere now, you got's five tickets and I only sees four people."
Lucille turned to her right, to be met with empty air. Her heart sank a bit.
"Francoeur…?"
Tucked away behind the main tent sat a small trailer, which contained a single occupant. A girl, not much older than sixteen, lay curled on her side in her room. The trailer, more like a prison cell, was the only thing she found any familiarity in.
She couldn't remember much, just bits and pieces of what she assumed was her past. She had been alone in an alleyway, shivering with cold, covered in lumpy rags to keep warm. Every now and again she would find some food in a garbage can that wasn't too rotten. It was not an easy life. She didn't even know her own name.
Until Monsieur Elrick came.
He was her savior: he had found her shivering behind a dumpster and had taken her in. He fed her, clothed her, and gave her a job. All she had to do was sing, sing and never leave.
It seemed like a good life. But then, why was there a hole in her chest, as if something was missing?
She sighed, running her hands down her face. "I wish I knew where I had come from… then maybe I could go home…"
She jumped as the door creaked open.
It was the small man, the one called Greado. He sneered in her direction. "Get up yew lazy fing, it's time to prepare yew fer the finale." He set down the bucket he was carrying, its contents sloshing over the side.
The girl wrinkled her nose. "What is that?"
The small man growled at her. "The 'ell do you fink it is? 'S soap 'n water!"
He unlocked the cage door and slid the bucket through the opening, tossing a sponge inside as well, before closing the cell with a slam.
"Now 'urry up and get y'self clean! Monsieur Elrick doesn' like to be kep' waitin'." And with that, he stalked out of the trailer, closing and locking the outside door as he left, complaining to himself.
"Ruddy fing. 'Anya, the Angel of Paris', my arse."
The girl listened to him mutter as he left, sighing as she looked into the sudsy bucket. Her reflection stared back at her, the same forlorn expression creasing its face.
"Might as well turn my bath into a shower." Heaving a sigh, she stripped out of the thin white nightgown she was given to sleep in and tossed it onto her cot. The girl, now known as Anya, moved towards the center of the trailer, where a small drain had been drilled.
Holding her breath, she dumped the bucket over her head, gasping at the cold temperature. Wanting to make the bath quick, she grabbed the sponge from the floor and began to scrub herself furiously, humming to herself to try to get her mind off of her shivering form.
After she had turned every inch of her skin a fluorescent pink, she turned her attention to her back, where two lumps of downy white flesh stood out. She gently poked at them, watching the skin ripple at her touch. "Well, I haven't really been able to stretch them out since last show…"
She bit her lip, contemplating something, then tensed her shoulders. A ripping sound echoed around the trailer, and Anya cold feel her shoulder blades shifting outwards to make room for her new appendages. She grit her teeth as a bout of nausea hit her, along with a short spurt of pain. Bear with it, it's almost over…
Skin split and reformed, bones broke and melded back together, and eventually there were two large wings protruding from her shoulders. They were covered in a sticky pink substance that was the result of several weeks' worth of disuse inside of Anya's shoulders. The film could be easily washed away, and was only there to protect her plumage.
She heaved a sigh, a mixture of relief and comfort, and flexed her shoulders. This gently flapped her wings, stirring a slight breeze in the room.
After several minutes of watching small bits of dust and paper twisting in a small dust devil, she ceased her flapping and scrubbed her wings, not stopping until her feathers were a bright ivory. Satisfied with her work, Anya reached for a towel that was hanging on a nail by her cell door. She dried her hair first, then her body, and finally her wings.
She wrapped the thin towel around her naked form and moved to exit the cage when the doorknob jiggled slightly. The click of a lock was the only warning she had before Elrick walked into the trailer.
She flushed as his eyes grazed over her barely-clothed form. He must have gotten lost in his own thoughts before he shook himself out of his daydreaming and smiled at her. "Ah, you look so beautiful, mon ange."
Seeing her eyes widen and her blush deepen across her cheeks from his compliment made Elrick shout for joy on the inside.
Since the day he had rescued her, Elrick found that Anya, so he had named her, stirred up feelings inside of him that he could only call love. It was nothing as vulgar as lust, nor was it tame in any sense. He made sure that she was well taken care of, never wanting for anything. He wished for her to be happy with him and only him and to never leave his side. Was that too much to ask?
Remembering why he had entered in the first place, the ringmaster pulled a package out from behind his back, presenting it to Anya. "A gift for you, my dear. I meant to get it to you earlier, but there simply wasn't time."
She blinked at the wrapping paper, cautiously opening it.
Inside was a beautiful white dress, with a matching lace-edged collar. She gasped, looking up at the ringmaster in shock. "F-for me?"
Elrick smiled. "I bought it especially for you. Your old costume was showing its age, and when I saw this in the window, I simply had to get it for you."
He didn't need to mention that her other dress had met an untimely end in his personal furnace.
He gently took the dress from her hands and laid it on a chair, then took her hands in his. Anya resisted the urge to pull away, since he had just given her a gift. "I know you will fill the night with your beautiful singing, mon ange. Is there anything that I can do for you to ensure you are more comfortable?"
As she looked over her shoulder at the cage bars, Elrick sighed. "Mon amie, you know that I can't." He really didn't like to keep her locked up, but he didn't want to risk her running away. Not after all that she had given him…he sighed.
"I'll leave you to change, Anya." With a kiss to her knuckles, he left her to her thoughts.
Anya stood there for a moment, absorbing the fact that he had kissed her.
He never kissed her, except when she was younger, he had sung her to sleep and kissed her goodnight. Elrick was like a father to her, the closest thing to it that she had ever known, and he had just looked at her like she saw the men looking at the ladies in the audience. But isn't that a good thing? She thought.
Deciding to think on it later, she grabbed the dress and examined it. The dress was white silk lined with matching lace borders, with slim sleeves that flared at her wrists until they touched the ground. She slipped it over her head, surprised to find that it fit her like a glove. It was so beautiful, she just had to twirl in it two or three times to fully appreciate it. Finally she put on the collar, making sure it fit snugly on her neck.
She gave herself a once-over in the small hanging mirror Elrick had given her, then left the room to be greeted by one of the acrobats, Dart. "Good evening, înger. Are you ready for tonight's performance?"
She laughed at the Romanian and nodded. "I suppose as ready as I'll ever be. Isn't it always the same with these shows?"
He chuckled, his dark brown locks curling about his head. "I guess you're right. Well, we'll warm up the crowd for you, and I'll come get you for the finale, alright?"
She smiled. "Alright."
Dart grinned and walked away from her backwards, blowing her kisses as he went. "Until we meet again, înger! It will be too long!"
Anya chuckled at his antics, watching him until he disappeared into the tent.
Alright, so… just a couple of tweaks that had to be made. Nothing too drastic. Hopefully I'll be able to get these others finished soon so I can work on the new updates.
BTW: înger- angel in Romanian (I used Google translate, so… legitness?)