Carousel

By Aurelia Evans

These days, she's traveling in some unusual circles...

Before her father can kick her out of the house, Caroline runs away to join the circus. She's far from the oddity or performer that Arcanium is known for, but the fortune teller grants her wish to become a part of his circus and assigns her to run the carousel.

It's repetitive work and the quarters are cramped, but it's the perfect job while Caroline figures out what the hell she's going to do with her life.

Then some of the creepy carousel mounts—the ones that look like tormented human men—start coming to life at night. At first she thinks they're just dreams, but she quickly discovers that Arcanium is no ordinary circus.

Caroline must not only come to grips with the shady motivations and affections of her new colleagues, but also with the driven desire inside her for Riley and Colm—the men bound to the carousel to atone for their sins, who beg her to save them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
• Release date: Jul 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781784306175

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A Totally Bound Publication

Carousel

ISBN # 978-1-78430-617-5

©Copyright Aurelia T. Evans 2015

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright June 2015

Edited by Sarah Smeaton

Totally Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Melting and a Sexometer of 3.

Arcanium

CAROUSEL

Aurelia T. Evans

Book two in the Arcanium series

These days, she’s traveling in some unusual circles…

Before her father can kick her out of the house, Caroline runs away to join the circus. She’s far from the oddity or performer that Arcanium is known for, but the fortune teller grants her wish to become a part of his circus and assigns her to run the carousel.

It’s repetitive work and the quarters are cramped, but it’s the perfect job while Caroline figures out what the hell she’s going to do with her life.

Then some of the creepy carousel mounts—the ones that look like tormented human men—start coming to life at night. At first she thinks they’re just dreams, but she quickly discovers that Arcanium is no ordinary circus.

Caroline must not only come to grips with the shady motivations and affections of her new colleagues, but also with the driven desire inside her for Riley and Colm—the men bound to the carousel to atone for their sins, who beg her to save them.

Dedication

For Erin, with thanks to Amy.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Starbucks: Starbucks Corporation

Nutella: Ferrero S.p.A.

Cirque du Soleil: Cirque du Soleil Inc.

Ripley’s Believe It or Not: Ripley Entertainment Inc.

Wi-Fi: Wi-Fi Alliance

Cliff’s Notes: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Photoshop: Adobe Photoshop

Diet Coke: The Coca-Cola Company

Magic 8 Ball: Mattel, Inc.

Facebook: Facebook, Inc.

Boy Scout: Boy Scouts of America

Snopes: Barbara and David P. Mikkelson

Selene: Underworld Franchise

Chapter One

By the time Caroline reached the spiked, scrolled iron gate of the circus Arcanium on its last day in town, she was pretty sure she hadn’t thought her brilliant plan through.

Now that she was here, it all seemed so silly, the stuff a little kid’s threats were made of.

‘Fine. Then I’ll just run away and join the circus!’

She hadn’t been serious when she’d said it, but last night it had occurred to her… Why not? And this morning, it had seemed the logical decision. What could she say? The job market was crap.

And didn’t everyone have a secret wish to join the circus? The circus was magical, fantastic, beautiful, risky, rife with nomadic instability. Her father was all about stability. Stability, responsibility, accountability…a lot of abilities.

She was twenty years old, for Pete’s sake. Shouldn’t she have a little spontaneity before life sucked it all out with a crazy straw? Well, her dad seemed intent on ensuring said suck. He wasn’t being unreasonable, of course. On the contrary, he was being eminently reasonable.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted a job this summer. It was the damn economy. She hadn’t been able to find a summer job to save her life. She’d written up over seventy-five applications and done fifteen interviews, and she’d come home every evening with nary a paycheck to show for it.

She’d tried offering her services as a babysitter to people in her apartment complex. That had gotten her a few gigs. Literally, a few. No one needed a babysitter with any kind of regularity, and most of them didn’t want a twenty year old. They wanted a teenager. It was the classic dilemma. Too young for a proper job, especially since she was going back to school in the fall. Too old for babysitting. And the part-time jobs had already been taken by the time she’d got home from college for the summer break.

According to her father, this was all her fault. Caroline didn’t quite understand why. She was burning gasoline looking for a job. She didn’t have any weird affectations like visible tattoos or piercings or colored hair. She didn’t think she stank. Yet she couldn’t seem to find anything in her suburban city, despite the fact it hadn’t been hit too hard by the downturn. To say she was discouraged was an oversimplification.

But her father didn’t just fail to understand why she couldn’t find a job. He refused to accept it.

‘Damn it, Caroline. I’m not going to have you stay under my roof and do whatever you want while you’re of able body and mind to work. I was working at sixteen and throughout college. I had to get loans and pay them off by my own sweat and blood. What are you doing when you go out? Catching a movie and getting a latte?’

Well, okay, once. But only because she’d gone on the movie theater circuit filling out applications.

Nothing but crickets.

‘Thank you for your interest. We’ll call you in a few days.’

She hated that response. They never called. She wished they’d just say no before she filled out an application. Or hell, they could say no after she filled out the application. The worst part wasn’t the rejection. It was the false hope every time the cowardly bastards said they’d call.

Maybe she should dye her hair some wacky color or get her septum pierced. Maybe the people hiring would at least remember her face.

In that case, though, Caroline thought her father wouldn’t just threaten to kick her out of the house and refuse to pay tuition—both which he’d been increasingly threatening to do. If she made herself ‘unmarketable’ like that, Caroline thought he’d actually do it.

So she’d beaten him to the punch. Or so she’d thought this morning, when running away and joining the circus had seemed like an awesome idea.

Caroline really needed to stop making decisions before coffee.

After paying the twenty-dollar cover charge, she passed through the gate to join the other visitors of Arcanium. Her duffel bag, which carried all her important worldly possessions, weighed on her shoulder. She was a small girl. Things she’d packed that had seemed essential a few hours ago were now unnecessary burdens. But what was she supposed to do? Go back home?

Everything looked much as it had last week when Grace, Lana and Caroline had walked past it on the way to the coffee shop. Sure, they could have driven, but the walk from their neighborhood past the wooded area and the empty fields was peaceful, and Grace had wanted to earn her empty calories. Besides, the longer they could make their coffee run, the longer Caroline could avoid home—and avoid those shaming glances telling her that having fun with her friends was just one more reason why she wasn’t employed—even though she checked for ‘hiring’ signs at the other stores around Starbucks every time she was there.

Caroline didn’t remember her dad being this much of a buzzkill when she was younger. He’d always been strict and exacting, but Caroline had had just about enough of blame. She wanted a job. She couldn’t stand another moment of feeling like a failure. Had a little bit of sympathy been too much to ask for? He knew she wasn’t lazy. He knew she went out every day except Sundays to look for a job. He knew she was a conscientious student and far from a troublemaker. Or at least, she’d thought he knew that.

Her father had made it abundantly clear she didn’t belong at home anymore. But for some reason, this morning she’d thought she belonged in the same place as the strange people she now stared at from under the canopies of their exhibition tents. ‘Oddity Row’, the signs called it.

Of course, now she realized the flaw in her fool-proof plan.

The more oddities she passed, the more she was convinced how appropriate it was that she’d been born a natural blonde. Her stupidity weighed on her with each step.

There was the woman who seemed lovely enough as she knitted, with beautiful, flowing chestnut hair that draped over her shoulders past her waist. Then Caroline noticed that the woman also had a full, long, chestnut beard pulled into a tail by a string of leather dangling with beads. The woman also had a few inches of thick but soft-looking chestnut hair over her arms, legs and the exposed part of her chest above the bodice of her dress.

Next, a man with smooth, oiled skin balanced a piano on his shoulders like Atlas holding the globe. His muscles bulged, vascular though not overly large like one might expect from a strongman. His dark gaze fell upon her as she passed by.

She imagined those muscles flexing during…other activities and shivered. She bit her lip at the way her thighs rubbed together as she continued down the line. Most of her friends preferred a sleeker form, but she’d always had a secret thing for beefcake.

In the next tent, a woman draped over a settee that had, in turn, been draped with giant serpents. Caroline hated snakes and didn’t linger, no matter how stunning the snake charmer was.

Rushing along, Caroline passed by a trio of steampunk harlequin clowns performing for a small crowd that stood around a wooden makeshift ring.

She actually jumped back when she noticed one of the clowns didn’t have the typical, overly affected makeup like the other two—one of the men happy and the single woman sad. This man’s face paint made his mouth look stretched from ear to ear and past the line of his chin, filled with a jagged, cramped cluster of pointed teeth made for ripping throats out. The artistry was so advanced that Caroline had to change angles to realize it was just paint. This man also wore rainbow suspenders, which Caroline was pretty sure wasn’t part of the typical harlequin design.

The trio danced around the ring like children to distant calliope music of unknown origin, juggling knives, handsaws and flaming torches, all things people generally didn’t want children tossing about. A burst of applause followed when the happy clown reached into the bag of tricks at his side and pulled out a handful of sausages to join the juggling fray. Each link ended up sliced in two by the tossed knives and cooking over the tossed torches before being offered to some of the audience members.

Caroline was impressed. She was also thoroughly creeped out.

She’d never been much afraid of clowns, but something about these three… Maybe because underneath their makeup, their mouths had no expression at all, lips pursed in an emotionless line.

Their yellow irises—contacts, obviously, to make them look reptilian or demonic—glowed with fervor in the blackened whites. They used their eyebrows liberally. The happy and sad clowns’ hair had been gelled into mohawks, and the monster-faced clown’s hair bushed out in two tufts on either side of his head. As well as it could, their hair whipped side to side with each exaggerated movement. But their lips remained still, depending on the paint alone to express a flat melodrama of emotion.

Caroline shifted her bag on her laden shoulder. A girl could only carry a giant duffel bag so far before giving out. She wasn’t a strongman—or strongwoman—after all.

Continuing down Oddity Row, there was a man whose entire body had been covered with tattoos, including his face—an anatomy chart of the skull on one side and musculature on the other. His shorn scalp exposed labeled phrenology sections. Bright silver piercings glimmered from his nipples and navel and his face. Giant, black gauged rings stretched his earlobes open to almost the size of small bangle bracelets. He wore black leather shorts that exposed the art adorning his legs and even his bare feet. When he opened his mouth, his lizard tongue wiggled where it had been split, with a bar piercing it farther back.

Caroline shuddered, quite a different reaction from the strongman. She had nothing against self-expression, but she only had double piercings on her earlobes. She couldn’t imagine doing all that to her entire body, much less her tongue. Blergh. Just thinking about it…

The tattooed man smiled at her. His teeth gleamed with diamonds pierced into the dentition. Her teeth hurt in sympathy. What kind of person did this to himself on purpose?

Maybe the kind of man who hung out next door to a sword swallower, an older man who looked like he’d swallowed one too many swords.

He was presently hammering a thick nail up his nose. It was a wonder the guy didn’t have tetanus. His sickly appearance made Caroline wonder whether he had at one point. Hazard of the trade, she supposed.

If there was ever a place to reaffirm how normal and boring Caroline was, this was it. For the millionth time, Caroline wondered what the heck she’d been thinking coming here. What could she offer a circus?

There were still other exhibits along Oddity Row, but Caroline stopped at the sword swallower and waited for him to finish his act, which culminated in him swallowing three swords at once. He coughed after he bowed. As he put his swords back in the ornate, wooden display case that showed off all the sharp implements he could potentially skewer himself with, Caroline stepped up.

Excuse me, Caroline said. When in doubt, be polite. That was one of her policies.

Not that being polite had gotten her foot in the door of any retail outlet or restaurant she’d applied to.

It had gotten her a free pretzel once, though.

The sword swallower raised his eyebrows. Caroline guessed she wasn’t supposed to talk to the cast. He didn’t ignore her, though, so she soldiered on.

I was wondering where your manager or boss is, Caroline said.

Depends, the sword swallower replied, running the back of his hand over his forehead. His closely shorn thin hair and receding hairline showed beads of sweat that had caught on the ends of the follicles. It would have been funny if he didn’t look like he was going to collapse from heat stroke at any moment.

Caroline let out an inner sigh of relief when the sword swallower reached for a large insulated cup of ice water and took a deep swig. It meant he might stay upright long enough to answer her question.

Why does it matter? Caroline asked.

The sword swallower shrugged. We have two men in charge of different things. Depends on what you need. Do you have a complaint or…?

Actually… Caroline swallowed. Now that she was about to say it, it seemed to have traversed from ridiculous to patently ludicrous. I was kind of hoping for a job.

Here? Really?

She couldn’t even bristle at the way his gaze traveled over her, as though searching for an extra limb she might be hiding under her T-shirt or denim shorts—not that she could hide a lot under those. It was a legitimate thing for freak show circus folk to do when someone as white bread as her came along.

Um, yeah, Caroline said. She made every effort not to stare at her shoes as though acknowledging that she was an imposter.

Okay, the sword swallower finally said. Looked like he’d decided to take the same polite, diplomatic route. You won’t have to go to the Ringmaster for that. You want the fortune teller’s tent. Bell Madoc. He runs Arcanium. The sword swallower sucked on his tongue, as though wondering whether he should say anything else. Then he added, Good luck.

Thanks, Caroline said.

She raised a hand to him in gratitude. Then she stepped out of Oddity Row toward the booths and tents that stretched away from the big top center like a spider’s legs.

There was one row with a midway that looked like an unholy cross between kids’ games and gothic steampunk nightmares, manned by the usual kind of grunts—the ones whose smiles never reached their eyes and who seemed bored with the endless supply of singles and fives they received.

On the other side of the food booths, she glimpsed a darkly colorful carousel, but the smell of the food conjured most of her attention. Especially after buying the circus ticket, she couldn’t really spare the cash, but she’d been walking all morning while carrying a heavy load, and she was hungry and thirsty. She didn’t know how she was going to be able to reliably feed herself after a while, which only made her hungrier and thirstier.

She skipped the weird food booth, the one with spiders and scorpions on sticks and calamari and deep-fried Nutella—although she might come back for the deep-fried Nutella, now that she thought about it—and went straight for the regular fair food. A corn dog, fried jalapeños and a double-sized water bottle. She took particular pleasure in not adhering to her mother’s diet. Nothing beat fair food for deliciousness that was bad in all the right ways.

She was halfway through her jalapeños before she admitted to herself that she was stalling.

This was a mistake. If she wasn’t qualified to flip burgers or hang clothes, what made her think that she’d be qualified for a highly specialized circus?

She had some tumbling skills from when she had taken gymnastics all through middle school and high school. She’d attended a few competitions, but it had mostly been recreational for her, much to her more competitive mother’s chagrin. Though her mom hadn’t been one of those moms, Caroline thought she would have appreciated a trophy or two to help her brag about her daughter.

However, Caroline didn’t think that a couple of cartwheels, round-offs and a flip, followed by a walking handstand, was going to get her anywhere in a circus that had a standard of strongmen carrying pianos and clowns risking life and limb with pointy objects.

Caroline wiped her mouth with a napkin. Then she threw away her trash and tried to stand tall, even though her spine felt like someone had wrapped wire around it.

Fake it till you make it. Another one of her policies.

Not that that had been working for her either.

She suddenly wished she’d had the sense to ask for a car for her sixteenth birthday. Her parents had indicated that they’d be willing to get her a used one, but she’d decided to ask for the newest phone instead, much good it could do her right now.

If she had her own car, she could sleep in it until the registration went out. Not the best scenario in midsummer when the nights were anything but a dream. Still, at least she’d have someplace to stay when this venture failed to pan out.

Really, when it came down to it, she’d been so much of a dumbass thinking this whole running-away-from-home thing would work. Because it succeeded for toddlers so often.

There it was, the fortune teller’s tent. The flap that acted as a door had been drawn down. A sign next to the door hung from a pin in the canvas. Please wait your turn.

Everyone was being polite, then.

She waited her turn and listened to that distant, dark, circus calliope music, wondering whether she should take her bag off her shoulder again. When she’d been eating, the lack of a burden had given her shoulder enough time to realize the abuse she’d given it. Caroline now moved the bag to the other shoulder, but her right shoulder had already whispered over to the left how heavy the duffel was. Her left shoulder protested right away. But she didn’t want to put the bag down if she’d just have to pick it up again.

It was such a small thing, but it still managed to occupy her mind until the person before her exited with her friend. Caroline ducked under the flap. It fell closed behind her.

The inside of the tent looked exactly the way a person would expect a fortune teller’s tent to look. It had to be a bitch to transport, full of small psychic accessories like candles, wooden idols, beads, scarves, incense and other trinkets. On the other side of the delicate table, a bare-chested man lounged in an equally delicate wooden chair. He appeared far more comfortable in that chair than he should.

His black leather pants had to be just as uncomfortable as the chair, but he wore them as though they were thin cotton. It couldn’t have been more revealing than if it were thin cotton, and he was sitting back and slouching slightly with his legs parted. Every line of him called attention to his hips, where he wore a beaded brown leather belt that slung over the pants and draped over the placket.

He looked good. Caroline didn’t usually ogle, but she couldn’t help it. He wasn’t exceptionally one thing or the other, although there was strength in his limbs and in the muscles of his chest and abdomen, and his legs looked really good in those trousers. He was attractive but not devastatingly gorgeous. Not at all her type, yet she couldn’t look away. For a few moments, her mouth was too dry to speak.

She’d say it was his eyes, a captivating amber hazel, except they weren’t what she’d first noticed. Now, however, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from them—kind but guarded.

It made a girl wonder what a man like him would have to guard behind them.

Please, sit down, the fortune teller said.

His sensual lips quirked a little as she nodded and sat down without a word in one of the two chairs across from him. She set her bag on the other chair. It managed not to break anything.

Now, what can I do for you? Fortunes are ten dollars. He nodded to the folded card in front of the crystal ball sitting at the center of the table.

Unfettered Fortunes, $10.

No, Caroline said. She swallowed and tried to coax saliva back into her mouth. It was only then that she noticed there was another woman in the tent.

For some reason that made her flush even darker from embarrassment—as if it wasn’t hot enough. The woman reclined in a short armchair on the other side of the tent, watching. She had almost black hair streaked with dark red, and she wore a simple red leather, A-line dress that matched her hair. Like the leather pants, it had to be hot as hell, but she also didn’t appear any less comfortable than the fortune teller.

Caroline briefly envied her breasts, expertly set off by the low-cut corset bodice. Caroline had a decent handful, but she’d always expected more of herself.

Don’t mind me, the woman said, smiling gently, although her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. It wasn’t the same empty smile as the people who ran the booths, and Caroline didn’t get the impression that the woman was angry with her for staring. Instead, her dark, kohled eyes appeared…concerned? I’m apprenticed to him. I just observe.

Oh. Um, okay. Caroline directed her nervous attention back to the fortune teller. I, um…God, I don’t even know how to say this now that I’m here.

Would you like me to help you? the fortune teller said, his grin broadening.

What do you mean?

"I am a fortune teller, my dear. Even if your fortune is not what you’ve come for, I can use my talent to save you some stammering, the fortune teller said. He placed his hands on the table and gestured her closer. How about this? I will divine your purpose for being here, free of charge."

Seriously? Caroline asked. Her hands twitched on her lap, far more ready to