A scary black carriage pulled up to the alley we’d been sleeping in and with two squeezes of my hand and a quick nod, all traces of the kind, knowledgeable man I’d known my father to be faded from his handsome face. “Eyes down, Treasure.”
He only used my real name, the one my mother gave to me, when others were around, preferring something from one of his many bedtime stories instead. Because, though the streets were cold and dark, and sometimes scary, his stories were always magical and there was always a heroine to save the world.
“Lovely,” a theatrical voice purred, curling down the alley and around the back of my neck. “Come here, child.”
“She’s uh, grown quite an attachment to me since her mother left, sir. It’s best if she stays by my side.” I’d never heard my father gulp before. It couldn’t have been from fear though. He was never afraid. Someday, I wouldn’t be either.
The man’s cane clacked against the bricks paving the alley as he walked nearer. “How am I to know you speak the truth if I’m not allowed to speak to the dear child, Aeronus?”
Two more squeezes came from my father’s grip before he released me, placing a palm on my back and pushing me toward the stranger. I tried to keep my eyes down, my breaths steady, and my thoughts in my mind quiet. But my heart, racing as it was, must’ve given me away because the cold metal of the man’s cane brushed my chin, then forced my face up. Itried to close my eyes as raindrops fell from an endless gray sky, dampening my lashes.
Never be memorable, Treasure. Memorable people are targets for forgettables.
My eyes, one green and one blue, made me memorable, and though my father’s sage advice echoed in my mind, when the stranger clicked his tongue and commanded me to open them, I didn’t hesitate.
There was something monstrous about his smile as he examined me. Even the twist of his curly, red mustache felt sinister to my young heart, which ceased to beat as my breaths fell short. Frozen in place, I waited, the world filling my ears like a tidal wave as this man, with the power to turn secrets into riches, stared down at me.
“How old are you, child?”
“Eight,” I managed.
“And your name?”
“P - Paesha Marian Vox.”
The man knelt, though he didn’t pull the cold metal cane from my face.
“I hear you like to dance. Is that true?”
My skin was on fire, my heart still afraid to beat. He hadn’t blinked. Not once. And there was something very scary about a man that didn’t blink.
“I’m… I’m not very good.”
“I’m quite sure that’s not true at all.”
“Sometimes I sneak into Madame Fourth’s ballet. She lets me sweep the stage and when I’m all done, she shows me how to spin.”
The scary man’s jaw ticced, and I knew immediately I’d said something wrong. “I’m… I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, child.” He rose, finally pulling his cane away, though my face felt like he’d set it on fire. “How would you like to dance on stage in front of a real audience?”
I turned from the scary man to look into my father’s brown eyes, but I couldn’t read his expression. No emotion. No weakness. He was a master at it. I’d be one too, someday. No fear.
“I think I would like that very much.”
“It’s settled then. Tomorrow, we will play a game. I will hide my cane and you will find it for me. When you return it, I will allow you to dance on my stage for… let’s say, ten years. And after that, you will have to earn your right to perform. Do we have a deal?”
There was weight in his words. The world pulsed with pressure. But it was as if something held my throat in a vise. Refusing to let me say no.
“You must answer aloud, girl.”
I looked at my father once more, terrified and so worried, I could feel the ache in my belly growing. But he simply dipped his chin, and that was that.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered.
The man stared down at me as if he were waiting for some grand gesture. Unsure of what I should do next, I curtsied. But it wasn’t my posture that he studied. Nor the smile missing from my face.
He stared at my arm and then spun to my father with a growl. “What is this? Why has it not worked?”
