She responds with tales from her childhood spent in back rooms of theaters. Adventures in far-flung cities the circus has visited. She recounts events from her spiritualist days, delighted when he finds the endeavor as absurd as she had at the time.
They sit and talk until just before dawn, and he leaves her only when the circus is about to close.
Marco holds Celia to his chest for a moment before he stands, pulling her up with him.
He takes a card from his pocket that contains only the letter
“I have been spending less time at Chandresh’s residence,” he says, handing her the card. “When I am not there, this is where you’ll find me. You are welcome any time, day or night. Should you ever be in the mood for a distraction.”
“Thank you,” Celia says. She turns the card over in her fingers and it vanishes.
“When all of this is over, no matter which one of us wins, I will not let you go so easily. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
Marco takes her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the silver ring that conceals her scar.
Celia traces the line of his jaw with her fingertips. Then she turns, disappearing before he can reach out to pull her back.
An Entreaty
CONCORD, MASSACHUSETTS, OCTOBER 30, 1902
The sheep are in a terrible mood today as Bailey attempts to usher them from one field to another. They have resisted prodding, swearing, and pushing, insisting that the grass in their current field is much nicer than the grass just on the other side of the gate in the low stone wall, no matter how much Bailey tries to persuade them otherwise.
And then there is a voice behind him.
“Hello, Bailey.”
Poppet looks wrong, somehow, standing there on the opposite side of the wall. The daylight is too bright, the surroundings too mundane and green. Her clothes, even though they are her incognito-wear and not her circus costume, seem too fancy. Her skirt too ruffled for everyday wear; her boots, though dusty, too dainty and impractical for walking across a farm. She wears no hat, her red hair loose, whipping around her head in the wind.
“Hello, Poppet,” he says once he recovers from his surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to you about something,” she says. “Ask you something, I mean.”
“It couldn’t wait until tonight?” Bailey asks. Meeting up with Poppet and Widget almost as soon as the circus opens each evening has become a nightly routine.
Poppet shakes her head.
“I thought it would be better to give you time to think about it,” she says.
“Think about what?”
“Think about coming with us.”
Bailey blinks at her. “What?” he manages to ask.
“Tonight is our last night here,” she says. “And I want you to come with us when we leave.”
“You’re joking,” Bailey says.
Poppet shakes her head.
“I’m not, I swear I’m not. I wanted to wait until I was sure it was the right thing to ask, the right thing to do, and I’m sure now. It’s important.”
“What do you mean? Important how?” Bailey asks.
Poppet sighs. She looks up, peering as though she is searching for the stars hidden behind the blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds.
“I know you’re supposed to come with us,” she says. “I know that part for certain.”
“But why? Why me? What would I do, just tag along? I’m not like you and Widget, I can’t do anything special. I don’t belong in the circus.”
“You do! I’m certain that you do. I don’t know why yet, but I’m sure you belong with me. With us, I mean.” A scarlet blush creeps into her cheeks.
“I’d like to, I would. I just … ” Bailey looks around at the sheep, at the house and the barn up on the hill lined with apple trees. It would either solve the argument of Harvard versus farm or make it much, much worse. “I can’t just leave,” he says, though it is not, he thinks, exactly what he means.
“I know,” Poppet says. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask you to. But I think … No, I don’t think, I know. I know that if you don’t come with us we won’t be back.”
“Won’t be back here? Why?”
“Won’t be back anywhere,” Poppet says. She raises her eyes to the sky again, scowling at it before she turns back to Bailey. “If you don’t come with us, there won’t be any more circus. And don’t ask me why, they don’t tell me why.” She gestures at the sky, at the stars beyond the clouds. “They just say that in order for there to be a circus in the future, you need to be there. You, Bailey. You and me and Widge. I don’t know why it’s important that it’s all three of us, but it is. If not, it will just crumble. It’s already starting.”
“What do you mean? The circus is fine.”
“I’m not sure it’s anything that’s really noticeable from the outside. It’s … If one of your sheep was sick, would I notice?”
“Probably not,” Bailey says.
“But you would?” Poppet asks.
Bailey nods.
“That’s how it is with the circus. I know how it’s supposed to feel and it doesn’t feel like that right now and it hasn’t for a while. I can tell something’s wrong and I can feel it crumbling like cake that doesn’t have enough icing to hold it together but I don’t know what it is. Does that make any sense?”
Bailey only stares at her, and she sighs before she continues.
“Remember the night we were in the Labyrinth? When we got stuck in the birdcage room?”
Bailey nods.
“I’ve never been stuck anywhere in the Labyrinth before. Never. If we can’t find our way out of a room or a hall I can focus and I can feel where the doors are. I can tell what’s behind them. I try not to do it because it’s not any fun that way, but that night I did when we couldn’t figure it out and it didn’t work. It’s starting to feel unfamiliar and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“But how can I do anything to help?” Bailey asks.
“You’re the one who finally found the key, remember?” Poppet says. “I keep looking for answers, for the right thing to do, and nothing’s been clear except for you. I know it’s too much to ask to have you leave your home and your family, but the circus is my home and my family and I can’t lose them. Not if there’s something I can do to prevent it. I’m sorry.”
She sits on the rock wall, facing away from him. Bailey sits next to her, still facing the field and the incorrigible sheep. They sit in silence for a while. The sheep wander in lazy circles, nibbling on the grass.
“Do you like it here, Bailey?” Poppet asks, looking out over the farm.
“Not particularly,” Bailey says.
“Have you ever wished for someone to come and take you away?”
“Did Widge tell you that?” Bailey asks, wondering if the thought is so strong that it sits on him, evident and readable.
“No,” Poppet says. “It was a guess. But Widge did ask me to give you this.” She pulls a tiny glass bottle from her pocket and hands it to him.
Bailey knows that though the bottle appears empty it is likely not, and he is too curious not to open it immediately. He pulls out the minuscule stopper, relieved that it remains attached to the bottle with a curl of wire.
