Cusp of Night. Mae Clair
“But I thought he said she was dead?”
“That was Dante trying to stir up a hornet’s nest.” Ivy glanced briefly to where Collin Hode conversed with the mayor. “You’ve seen Pin Oaks Senior Center, right?”
“The assisted care facility off Waterfront Road?” She’d driven by it on her way to Hode’s Hill Shopping Center, a retail complex that was located outside the city proper.
“That’s the one.” Graham added his two cents. “A few weeks before you moved here, word leaked Hode Development would be tearing it down to make room for luxury condos.”
DeLuca’s hostility made sense. “But what about all the people who live there?”
He shrugged. “Leland is saying they’ll have plenty of time to find other accommodations, and Hode Development has promised to assist with relocation.”
“That’s it?” Shock coursed through Maya. If her grandparents were being displaced, she’d be every bit as vocal as Dante DeLuca in making her anger known. In the course of one evening, she’d learned more about Hode’s Hill most prominent family than she cared to know. Slander, unethical business practices, greed. These were the people she’d be cutting a rent check to every month through the guise of their development firm. “No wonder Dante DeLuca was so belligerent.”
“He’s dramatic.” Ivy cut him no slack. “Always has been. He was like that in high school, too. One of those temperamental artist types. The guy lives like a bohemian off a trust fund and has the nerve to talk about money. He could set his grandmother up in any piece of real estate she wants. It’s not like she’s going to be out in the street.”
Graham bobbed his head in agreement, pausing only long enough to polish off the last of his sandwich. “Yeah, but according to Dante, she loves Pin Oaks and is worried about her friends. Not everyone has the resources the DeLucas have.”
Maya was tempted to ask what those entailed when the crowd suddenly broke into thunderous applause. The fiend competitors were taking the stage, one after the other doing their best impression of a menacing monster.
“This is just the first round of introductions. There will be fiend stuff going on all night.” Ivy flicked a glance at her watch. “Let’s get something to eat before the bands start. Curtain Call is up first, and they do great cover songs.” She poked Graham in the ribs. “I’d ask you along, but it looks like you already connected with Brook.”
“I don’t know what you mean. All I did was get a sandwich.” A flush crept up his face. Ducking his head, he rolled the paper plate he’d been holding into a tube. “Food’s good.” He chanced a glance at Maya. “I know this is your first Fiend Festival. Try out the fries. They’re my favorite.” Mumbling a parting, he shuffled away, an ungainly creature with bird legs.
Maya frowned at Ivy. “You shouldn’t tease him the way you do.”
“You’re right.” Ivy took the reprimand in stride. “I’ve known him so long, he’s almost like a brother. Don’t worry about Graham. He might play awkward, but he doesn’t do too bad with that geeky charm of his. He’ll find Tina Sanford and forget all about Brook.” Craning her neck, she glanced in the direction of the food tents. “I’m starved. What do you say to pizza?”
Maya grinned. “What? No fries?”
Ivy laughed. “This way.”
Putting the incident with DeLuca behind her, Maya followed her friend toward the tempting aromas of hot tomato sauce, pepperoni, and sausage. As she contemplated black olives versus mushrooms, it suddenly dawned on her that Collin Hode had never spoken to defend his father or his company.
Maybe there was no defense.
Chapter 2
May 1, 1897
“Hello. Have I come at a bad time?” A tall, thin man strode into Lucy Strick’s tent as if he were an invited guest.
“Who the hell are you?” She lurched from the stool in front of her small dressing table, knocking a pot of face paint to the floor. Damn. Where was Burt? The roughy was supposed to keep cretins away. May Day always brought a good take for the circus, but seedy folk showed up right along with the local farmers. Sodbusters, she could handle. Rubes in colors as drab as the earth they plowed, slow and simple as mules.
This man didn’t look anything like them—or the lechers who thought the entrance fee to her aerial act bought a free grope on the side. Put her visitor in an audience and he’d stand out like a sleek crow in a flock of cowbirds. Fancy frock coat, weathered face, hair and eyes as black as the coal her brothers dug from the Blind Boy Mine. Odd sort. He might have been as old as her pap or as young as Anton, the Strongman.
“You ain’t answered me.” She hadn’t liked people staring at her when she was a kid and wouldn’t tolerate it now. She wasn’t a freak, no matter what her kinfolk said. “Who are you?”
He didn’t hesitate. “A man who finds you extraordinary.”
“That so?” She snorted. Indelicately. “Well, that uppity accent don’t impress me none, so you best skedaddle ’fore I holler for Burt and have him bend you fifty ways backward. I ain’t unarmed, you know.” She groped through the silks, feathers, and tinted creams on her dressing table. “I got a knife.”
“I don’t. I’m not armed, dear lady.”
“Lady?” She’d never heard the word attached to the likes of her. Charmed, she shoved a curtain of black hair from her shoulder and eyed him openly. “You got a strange way of talking. I bet you’re a snoop, huh? This ain’t no fleece or racket joint, mister. Oliver’s Emporium and Traveling Show is on the up-and-up. Just ’cause we pull up stakes after a spell don’t mean—”
“You’re wasted here.”
She clamped her mouth shut. Even soaring through the air, the ground a death trap below, she remained in control. But this man threw her off balance with his bold comments. Dumb slug. Didn’t he realize what she was? Didn’t he have eyes?
“There ain’t nowheres else for me.” She’d known the truth every time her ma held her down and scrubbed her skin till it bled. Every time her pap cuffed her and called her Hades-spawned. When she was twelve, a preacher slathered her in whitewash while her pap watched stonily and her ma prayed for her deliverance. Lucy had run off that same night, stumbling over Ollie’s traveling circus two days later. She’d never regretted her decision in the eight years she’d called the carnival home.
Raising her chin, she stood her ground. “Ollie takes good care of me.”
“Yes. It must be gratifying to go from backwater town to backwater town, eking out a meager existence.” The man’s voice lowered, his cultured accent crisp with reproach. “Do you enjoy the way men leer at you? The barbs women toss behind your back, labeling you devil-witch and daughter of demons?”
Lucy stiffened. Pious folk were the worst. Hiding behind crosses and Bibles, as if the Good Lord loved her any less because of her appearance. Maybe Ollie traded on her unusual looks, but he treated her like family. Far more than her own blood kin.
“You need to leave.” She hated being reminded of what she was.
The man’s expression softened. “Child, I don’t see you as any of the ignoble names you have been called. I see you as special. Do not be ashamed of your exotic beauty.” Looming over her, he turned her fingers toward the light. The kindness in his voice almost made her believe she was attractive.
Until she looked at her hand and saw the same damning color that covered every inch of her body—blue.
Tears threatened her eyes. Crying was a weakness she hadn’t embraced in years.
“I see the pain on your face.” The man tightened his long fingers around her hand. “Memories of cruel taunts and unjust words. Leave here with me, and you