The next morning Lira was poking a bowl of brown oatmeal with a spoon. It looked anything but appetizing.
"Can't Mitsi come up with something more creative?" she grumbled through a yawn. She watched with mild disgust as the contents of her spoon slopped back into the bowl.
"He's baking for tonight," said Atlas, who was sitting across from her. "We're expecting a lot."
"Great," replied Lira. Her arms and fingers ached and her body felt weak, like she was recovering from a bout of flu. She didn't know how Bebinn expected her to play tonight.
The sound of footsteps from the hallway heralded Owen's arrival into the dining room. He stopped in the doorway, spotted them, and altered his course so he came to the head of the mahogany table.
"Mind if I sit?" he asked.
Atlas said, "Yes," while Lira just glared at him.
"I'm surprised you want to associate with a child snatcher," she said.
The boy grimaced at her words and remained standing. He looked as tired as Lira felt, as though he had spent most of the night awake. Which, Lira reminded herself, he probably had. She hadn't slept for days when she first arrived here. Every time she managed to fall asleep, she would jerk awake at the smallest noises, convinced something was coming to get her. Now she fell into coma-like slumbers every night she was forced to play, but never felt rested when she rose the next morning.
"About that," said Owen. He swallowed and gave a small smile. "I wanted to apologize for what I said last night. I shouldn't have been so quick to blame you."
Lira pursed her lips and went back to pushing around her food. She wasn't quite sure why his words still stung. Plenty worse had been screamed at her, and she'd had more than a few kids take swings at her-which had prompted her to ask Mitsi for self-defense classes-but for some reason Owen's outrage still hung over her like a thunderstorm.
"I-I actually wanted to ask for your help," he continued.
"Funny how that works," said Lira. She felt the heat from Atlas's gaze across the table.
"Maybe you've given up on ever going home, but I haven't," Owen said, lowering his voice.
"Don't worry, that will go away with time."
Owen sat down and clasped his hands in front of him on the table. "Look, I just need a couple of questions answered.
She noticed his eyes move from her face to her neck. His brow furrowed a bit in confusion as he saw what she referred to as her tattoo. Like Atlas, the Spirit World had changed Lira's skin pigment. Where Atlas's markings were sharp and angular, Lira's were soft, lazy brush strokes of pale lavender that swirled from her collarbone to her jawline. She pulled up the collar of her shirt to cover them and Owen blushed faintly as his eyes met hers once more.
"And why should I bother answering them?"
Lira flinched as Atlas placed two fingers on her shoulder. She hadn't heard the other girl get up.
"He is new," she murmured, barely loud enough for Owen to hear. "You were the same once."
"Yeah and no one answered mine either," grumbled Lira.
Atlas's eyes flashed, the red in them making her seem almost sinister, tiny as she was. "Sorry," amended Lira. "I know you tried to help."
Lira wasn't usually this aggressive, but the exertion of the previous night coupled with the fact that she had to play again in less than twelve hours made her more irritable than normal. That, and she didn't want to witness another of Bebinn's captives fall into despair. Owen was just so infuriatingly optimistic.
"I have to go. I have an errand," said Atlas. "See you tonight." She left on silent feet.
"Fine," said Owen. He didn't appear to be the least bit flustered by her attitude. "Then just answer one question. Have you ever spoken to any of the spirits?"
Lira's head jerked up convinced Owen had finally snapped. She couldn't imagine anyone in their right mind who would want to talk to those things. "No, why?" she asked, sharply.
"Don't you think they might know something about this place we don't?"
"All the spirits are dead or not a part of the human world. Anything they know wouldn't help."
"How do you know? What is there's another portal-a way back home? One Bebinn doesn't control?"
Despite herself, Lira began to imagine what it would be like to have another way home. Owen had a point. Bebinn's carousel couldn't be the only link to the human world. What is there was another? What if there were hundreds? After all, how did the other souls get here? But then she remembered where she was and who she belonged to.
Lira shook her head, more for herself than Owen. "Doesn't matter. We're bound to the carnival. Even if there was another, we couldn't reach it."
"Then we find a way to use the carousel." Owen's jaw was tight with determination and he leaned over the table towards Lira as though their closer proximity would allow his fervor to infect her and awaken the need to be free which had lain dormant for so long.
"What makes you think they'd be willing to talk to you?"
"If you were dead and waiting for whatever happens next, wouldn't you want to talk to someone who's alive."
Lira pushed her bowl of congealed oatmeal so there was nothing in between them and leaned forward herself. She made her gaze as hard as she could.
"You've been here for, what? Less than twenty-four hours? You have no idea how this place works-or what spirits are actually like. There's a reason they come to a place like this."
A memory overcame Lira with Owen's words. A memory she had since spent the time from its occurrence trying to bury.
Lira walked through the carnival alone, trying to find Jacks at Bebinn's request, and trying to keep her head down and eyes trained ahead. She was passing the Ferris Wheel when a towering figure cloaked in a decaying robe stepped deliberately into her path. The red eyes that glowed from beneath the ratty hood seemed to drip and shimmer like lava and the mouth-a perfectly round hole, cracked and oozing with sores-was one of the most ghastly things Lira had ever seen in her short life. Its breathing was wet and guttural like its lungs were filled with fluid.
"My-" it rasped. "What a pretty soul you have."
"Leave me alone," said Lira, loudly. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, but she was acutely aware of how tiny and unarmed she was.
Other spirits passed them by, but no one paid a second glance to their encounter.
It cocked its head and took a step closer. "What's a soul like you, doing in a place like this?"
"I mean it," said Lira, backing away. "Go away."
"Surely, you can spare a piece for someone as damaged as me," the thing gasped. It lunged forward and grabbed Lira's wrist.
Lira screamed as bony fingers covered in red blisters dug into her skin. Her flesh burned where it touched her and the air filled with the scent of burning lavender, a sugary cloying smoke that made her gag.
A sharp crack split the air and for a second Lira though it was her bone breaking. But then the thing reeled backwards with a sputtering cry, the leather thong of a whip coiled around its neck.
Lira clutched her wrist to her chest, looking around wildly. Jacks stood off to the side, tendons straining in his arms and neck as he pulled the spirit backwards. It fell to the ground with a thud, clawing at its neck, writhing in agony.
Jacks pulled the whip tight once, choking off its air, and then let the rope go slack.
"Go," he spat at it. "Leave before I call Bebinn."
The spirit clambered to its feet, gave Jacks a look of pure loathing, and ghosted away.
"Thank you," gasped Lira. Her whole body was trembling. "What did it want? It-it kept talking about my soul."
Jacks shrugged, re-coiling his whip. "It's dead. You're not. I've heard that sometimes the dead get jealous of the living. Makes them greedy. If you need to walk through the carnival at night, walk along the outside. The spirits won't see you there."
Lira nodded and dropped her gaze to her hand. She cried out when she saw her skin had turned black where the spirit had grabbed her.
"Better have Bebinn take a look at that before it spreads," said Jacks. "C'mon."
Bebinn had not been happy upon seeing Lira's damaged hand. Stranger still, the witch had been angry at Lira as though she had somehow brought this on herself.
"Stupid girl," she snapped. Bebinn moved swiftly around her luxurious living room, collecting half a dozen vials from a locked cabinet.
"It attacked me," retorted Lira, cradling her arm and glowering at Bebinn, But the witch seemed not to hear as she upended the vials into a deep stone bowl."
"Your hand will be useless for at least a week and we're behind as it is."
Before Lira could say anymore, Bebinn grabbed her hand and thrust it up to her elbow in the bowl.
The pain was instantaneous. Lira screamed.
"Want my advice?" she said to Owen. "Stay away from them."
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Two updates in one week, who'da thought? Anyway, I'd love if you guys could let me know what you think so far! Particularly the pacing. I really want to build this world out but don't want it to drag, so comment your thoughts below :)
Thanks for reading!