Finally, an update! :)
The night wind sailing through the fairgrounds seemed colder than the air at Weston. Lydia shivered as her eyes darted back and forth, grateful that Edward had lent her his hooded coat. She had removed the Weston insignia from her chest but otherwise remained in her male garb, partly to avoid drawing attention as a single woman, and partly to make it harder for potential enemies to recognize her. A festive crowd swept her forward toward the massive tent where the night's events would be taking place; in the midst of so many people, Lydia felt a small modicum of safety. Even so, she eyed the masked ticket collector apprehensively before showing her ticket and moving under the archway and into the big top. She was aware she was at a disadvantage, even in disguise. The people who had attacked her at the manor, assuming they were here somewhere, all knew what she looked like. Meanwhile, she had only ever seen the face of one of them- the red-haired man with the tattooed tear. The rest of them could be anyone, for all she knew- they could walk right up to her and she wouldn't even realize it. Her hand fluttered over the concealed holster that held her new pistol.
The ticket which the freckled handbill girl had given her was designated for a seat in the middle-class section of the stands, stretching between the peanut gallery of the poor and the private boxes of high society. It was where she felt most comfortable, so Lydia slipped through the crowd like a needle through fabric, settling into a seat with a view of the whole arena. She had never been to a circus before, although these were not really the circumstances under which she had hoped to attend. Even so, she could feel a childish part of herself compelling her to stare around with vivid curiosity. Aside from the standard circus materials- hoops and balls, long poles and trapeze beams, rings and empty cages, a tightrope and target boards- the arena was also decorated fancifully. A giant, glittering chandelier hung from the top of the tent, which was so high up that it seemed like a star presiding overhead. Silvery tinsel wrapped around each supporting post, and though she had no idea how they had managed it, the circus folk seemed to have colored the ground itself. Wide swaths of periwinkle and royal purple and crimson and gold cycled around on the floor like a child's dream of Wonderland. The vendors wandering about the stands, offering candy and baked goods and balloon creatures, seemed a final touch to this illusion of whimsical perfection. Lydia shook her head to clear it. It wasn't real. It was only a play-world, meant to separate the audience from their ordinary lives for a few hours (for a price, of course.) But she had too much at stake to pay that price.
The lights went out and Lydia grasped the edges of her bench with both hands, her heartbeat rising in the darkness. People murmured excitedly, and the next moment a single spotlight shone down on a lone figure standing in the center of the arena. Lydia's right hand convulsed as it tore a chunk of wood from the board beneath her.
It was him. His red hair blazed in the spotlight. His earrings glittered like the chandelier overhead. His skeleton arm stretched out before him in a theatrical bow.
Lydia suddenly felt a mad desire to leap away, even though she was surrounded by countless people. How could it be that he was just standing there for all to see? What was he doing in the arena, and what- what in the world kind of clothing was that? Lydia blinked as she realized he had abandoned his dark assassin's garb and was clothed in the gaudiest outfit she had even seen, full of bright colors and mismatched stripes. It was like he had raided the dressing wardrobe of-
Lydia stared as the man in the ring gave an enormous, childish grin, and with a flick of his wrist, began juggling colored balls which appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
-A jester?
"Ladies an' gents, boys an' girls, we WELCOME ye tonight to the show of the century!" The man proclaimed in a booming stage voice. "Our travelling circus 'as many acts to dazzle an' astonish ye! Shuffle off yer worries and give yerself over to entracement, an' ye can discover wondrous things within the hull of Noah's Ark." Still juggling, he moved to the side of the arena as a hulking, tattooed figure lumbered from the shadows. "An' now, with a blast from our spectacular fire-eater, let the show begin!"
The roar of the crowd drowned out the chaotic growl of flames as the man took a breath and the center of the ring erupted in a blinding blaze of red and gold.
/
Ciel moved down the dormitory hall, both hands holding the porcelain teacup and flower he had found resting upon his bed when he had returned from the day's festivities. McMillan had explained its significance to him (in a state of great excitement,) and although Ciel was not in the mood for more celebration, he allowed his peers to congratulate him and slap him on the back as he forged his way toward the housemaster's quarters. It was past lights out, but no one was paying attention to the curfew tonight. Ciel remembered to knock just in time, keeping up appearances. The door was quickly opened and he brushed past Sebastian into the room, setting the teacup delicately on the desk. "I have received the invitation," he proclaimed as Sebastian shut the door, his features inscrutable.
"Very good, my lord." The demon bowed, eyes flaring a darker red. "I shall take my position above the gardens and await your arrival with the other students."
"See to it." Ciel nodded and glanced around the room's shadowed corners. "Where is Lydia?"
"She has gone to London to investigate a possible link to the assassins. She has instructed me to inform you that she will be back at Weston in time to give her support, if needed, during the events of the midnight tea party." Ciel could tell by the rigidness of Sebastian's tone that his sister had left without the demon's approval.
"You would rather be there with her than here with me." The statement came flying past his lips with no forethought, and Ciel saw Sebastian freeze and eye him warily, probably suspecting the young heir was trying to trap him in a punishable offense.
"I would never relinquish my loyalty to my master," the demon said evasively. Ciel sighed, suddenly tired of this overwrought façade.
"You have two masters, idiot. Your loyalty is divided between us. I know you desire to protect my sister, so why do you remain here with me?"
Sebastian's eyes grew darker still, and an agitated grimace skimmed over his features. For a moment he appeared to be at war with himself, white-gloved fingers twitching at his sides. Then they settled again, and he regarded Ciel dully. "Is my lord feeling quite well tonight? Perhaps more tonic is needed for the head injury you sustained today."
"I feel fine. Why are you changing the subject?" Ciel barked impatiently. He realized that outside of giving orders, he had little experience actually speaking to Sebastian. Lydia made it look so easy, but he had forgotten how frustratingly obscure the demon could be.
Sebastian shook his head grimly. "I cannot recall another instance in which my lord has expressed acknowledgment of my desires. Such uncharacteristic behavior suggests acute exhaustion or head trauma. Perhaps you ought to lie down until the prefects come to fetch you."
Ciel stared at the demon, blue eyes glinting into red- that snide, sarcastic bastard- and suddenly realized he was wasting his precious time. Wordlessly, he plucked the flower from the teacup and turned to the door. As he fixed it to his uniform's lapel, he called over his shoulder, "I expect you to perform your part flawlessly tonight, as always. Come to my side when I call, and shield me from danger."
"Rest assured, master," The demon's words followed him out the door, and this time Sebastian did not even try to conceal their acid tone; "You will surely remain safe and alive, even if you should come to stand alone atop a mountain of corpses."
/
They were here. All of them, performing their deadly tricks to the applause of hundreds. The knife-thrower. The snake charmer. The woman with the whip. Even though she had never seen their faces before, Lydia recognized their performances from the assault on Phantomhive Manor. Others she had never seen at all; the fire-eater, the two trapeze artists, and the tightrope walker- yet she supposed they could have been in the carriage which had pursued Sebastian and Madame Red as they ferried an injured Meirin to London. All of their acts were proclaimed by the booming stage voice of the red-haired man, the ringmaster, running the show and working the crowd with a carefree grin. He honestly looked like he was enjoying himself as he kept the audience laughing with witty jokes and sly sleight of hand. He looked nothing like the murderous wraith that had pursued Lydia all the way to Weston, and this, in itself, set her on edge. It meant he had already cast his illusion, and was now moving inside of it.
Lydia's hands were clamped to either side of her seat, her body riveted in disbelief. Circus people. The assassins were circus people. This must be where they had acquired their strange and deadly set of skills. However, their cheerful outfits and practiced smiles did not make her feel any less afraid of them. This was wrong. It made no sense. Why would circus performers want to kill her? How did they have any connection to the House of Phantomhive? All this time she had been looking for clues to track their whereabouts….and they had been at the London fairgrounds all along, performing before thousands. Confounded, Lydia stared up into the ridgepoles of the big top, where the trapeze artists and the tightrope walker were currently performing an astounding triple act. Wrists and ankles adorned with white ribbons, the tightrope girl danced nimbly along the wire, flanked by the miniature figures of the trapeze artists as they wove through the air around her. The crowd was entranced, their heads swaying in tune to the violin music rising from the orchestral pit. It was captivating, Lydia could not deny it. But she knew she must not let herself be captivated. She had found the assassins. Now she needed to report back to her people and plan their next move.
The tightrope walker and trapeze artists lowered themselves to the center of the ring, and the rest of the troupe came out to join them, bowing and waving as the crowd cheered. Assuming the show was over, Lydia stood and surreptitiously slipped into the aisle, hurrying up the wooden steps toward the exit. She wanted to leave ahead of the crowd so no one would see her disappear when she leaped back to Weston. As she climbed past the rising rows, the voice of the ringmaster boomed out behind her, somehow louder than before. "Ladies and ge'mun, we thank ye fer attendin' our 'umble show tonight. We pray t'was an experience fit to last a lifetime. We hate to say goodbye, but a'fore we do, we'd like to leave ye with one final magic trick, a beautiful thing to see. We call it our disappearin' act, complete wi' every last person in this ring."
Lydia could not help turning around to look as the oohs and aahs of the crowd filled the arena. By now, no one doubted that the ringmaster could accomplish any magic trick he promised. He was really going to make the whole troupe disappear? A part of Lydia wanted to linger a moment to see it. However, her adult side pushed her out the exit, descending a long flight of stairs past costumed ushers and balloon sellers. Ciel would be arriving at the midnight tea party soon. She had to be there to make sure he was safe. She could no longer see what was being done in the arena, but she heard the crowd murmuring as the red-haired man set up his trick. She heard his voice one last time, echoing within the voluminous tent; "An' now, ladies and ge'mun, we of Noah's Ark wish ye a happy, safe goodnight."
Lydia reached the bottom of the stairs just as cries of wonder from the crowd informed her that he had really managed to pull off his disappearing act, complete with the entire troupe. Shivering, she began to make her way across the fairgrounds toward a copse of smaller tents, intending to hide behind them and disappear herself. Her blue Weston College tie fluttered in the breeze, and she grasped it and glanced behind her to make sure no one was following. From the big top, she heard the rising murmur of the crowd as they began to spill over the exit, a tide of bodies set to flood the fairgrounds. It all looked so strange in the dark, with a vast crescent moon hovering above them.
Lydia felt the ground give out under her feet at the exact second every light in the big top was extinguished. It only took her a second to fall, and all she could feel in that moment was an intense surprise at the soundlessness of it all, how silently the world shifted into darkness.
