THE ANGEL
JACK CROW
"Stay here," Fredo says anxiously as he hands me the silk cloth wrapped around my knives, and I remember exactly the day I received them from my father, when I was twelve.
"You really kept them," I murmur, smiling at the bundle in my hands.
"Yeah, and I took care of them the way you used to. I don’t think I kept them as sharp as you did, but I tried." He smiles at me and punches my leg. "Come on, crouch down and let me see what you did to your face. Take off that hood."
I do as he asks, slowly removing the hood and watching Fredo’s eyes widen, his chest heaving quickly as he breathes faster.
"Think I’ll scare the kids too much?" I ask quietly, looking at him.
"The kids?" He laughs, quickly averting his gaze from mine. "That face of yours is going to give their parents nightmares."
"I’ll take that as a compliment." I stand, opening the bundle and running my index finger along the blade, appreciating the work Fredo did. The edge is perfect.
"Oh shit! This is going to be a shot in the dark, and we’ll have to pray it works." Fredo takes a deep breath. "Do you know how you want me to introduce you? Because I can’t call you Jack..."
"Clown," I say without hesitation.
"Clown?" He stares at me. "Just Clown..."
"Yeah, just Clown."
"Fine, that’ll be the least of our problems." He laughs nervously. "Now, don’t leave this spot. I’m going to tell Spook I want to introduce someone to him."
I nod at him, watching as he walks off in a hurry. I grow serious, scanning the area as the lights are turned off, and the crowd that once rushed toward the massive tent in the center of the grounds has now disappeared. The tall, bold canvas, striped in red and white, remains still.
I tuck the knives into my belt and zip my jacket up to my throat. The icy wind of the cold night is a prelude to the frozen dawn that’s on its way.
I was listening to the ocean
I saw a face in the sand
But when I picked it up
Then it vanished away from my hands, down
The sound of a melody to my left makes me turn my head toward the tent. I look at it seriously, walking toward it with my hands shoved into my pockets. The music grows louder with each step, and I enter the large tent. It’s dark inside. I can barely make out the shadows of the bleachers and the vast ring in the center.
I had a dream I was seven
Climbing my way in a tree
I saw a piece of heaven
Waiting, impatient, for me, down
The melody becomes clearer, and at that moment, a dim light turns on. I see long strips of white fabric dragging on the ground, swaying in the center of the ring. I lift my eyes and see they stretch to the top of the tent, tied to the iron beams above.
I raise an eyebrow and step forward, staring attentively at the swaying cloths. Then, a blur crosses overhead, making me snap my gaze upward—and I see a woman, clinging to a third piece of fabric. She throws herself toward the two that are hanging, like a delicate bird, arms opening and closing. She grabs the fabric, one piece wrapping around her calf, the other around her arm.
She plays with them as if they were wings, propelling her body back and forth before tossing her torso forward, hanging upside down, swinging between the cloths, with a smile on her lips. Her long bronze curls are like autumn leaves—I’ve never seen them before. They highlight her dark skin, which glows under the spotlight, captivating me completely.
Her legs wrap tighter around the fabric, just like her arms do. She locks it around her waist, laughing. Her arms and legs dangle like those of a fragile angel playing mid-air.
I hold my breath when she lets go, spinning down partway before climbing again with grace, her left arm and leg stretching in unison.
She spins, smiling, and I focus on her cherry-colored lips. It’s like a spell, a trance, and I keep watching her dance—an angel, a ballerina, a tiny fairy enchanting me with every movement and smile.
I want to see her eyes, to watch her lids open, just to discover what she hides behind them. I don’t even realize I’ve moved closer to the ring until I’m almost right underneath her, my head tilted back, completely mesmerized.
And I was running far away
Would I run off the world someday?
Nobody knows, nobody knows
And I was dancing in the rain
I felt alive and I can't complain
She moves to the rhythm of the music, slow and graceful, twisting and turning in the air. Her body flows with the fabric, arms and legs swirling with every motion of her dance.
I don’t even notice I’ve stepped into the middle of the ring until I feel the cloths brushing against my shoulders.
The thin white stockings on her legs blend into the fabric, as does her high-necked, long-sleeved leotard, glittering with silver sequins that make her sparkle, lighting up the cherry smile on her lips.
But now take me home
Take me home where I belong
The delicate angel with bronze-leaf hair lets go, spinning upside down again, and smiles as she falls between the unwrapping cloths—coming straight toward me. I don’t understand what’s happening, but my instincts react. My arms rise as fast as she falls.
The most star-filled sky I’ve ever seen—dark and beautiful—swallows me whole when her eyelids open. My fingers touch her shoulders, and hers rest on mine. Everything around me vanishes. Only those vast black eyes remain, staring into mine. Her hurried breath warms me, and the scent of strawberries invades my lungs. Her hair falls around me like a bronze waterfall, and I gasp for air, my chest burning. My heart races wildly, making me wonder if the delicate angel holding me in her gaze is just a dream.
"What the fuck is that bastard doing in the ring?!" A furious voice shouts as all the lights snap on and the music cuts off.
I watch the fear extinguish the angel's bright gaze. Like a frightened bird, she breathes even faster, pushing me back, letting go of my shoulders, and making me release hers. She turns quickly, unraveling from the remaining cloth and landing softly on the ground. She looks like a startled cat, backing away fast across the ring.
Her head lowers and her bronze curls fall over her face like a curtain, hiding her from view. My eyes follow her until I see her being stopped by a man’s hand gripping her forearm. I take a step forward, fists clenching at my sides.
"Fredo, give me one good reason not to put a bullet in this motherfucker." My eyes shut as I recognize the voice I’d know even in hell—it’s coming from my left.
Darkness swallows me again, my heart, which moments ago pulsed full of life at the sight of the angel, now pounding with vengeance and death.
"I’m sorry about my friend, he must not have understood when I told him not to leave the spot I left him in," Fredo says quickly. "But aside from being hard of hearing—he’s got an issue—he’s a good man. I swear you won’t regret hiring him. Right, Clown?"
"Yes..." I need all my self-control to reply calmly, hiding the demons that writhe inside me as I open my eyes and lock them on Spook.
"Clown?" Spook laughs, turning toward the man holding the aerial dancer’s arm.
I glance at the bald giant with a shabby, oversized mustache on his face. His hand grips her arm tightly as she curls inward, still facing away.
"What a shitty name!" He laughs louder, stretching his arm toward her. "Come here, sweetheart."
My body stiffens as my eyes remain locked on the bald man, who pulls her along, forcing her toward Spook. Fredo watches me nervously, breathing fast, his gaze dropping to her as she’s shoved into Spook’s grip. He places both hands on her shoulders, caressing them.
She shrinks even more, head bowed low. He leans in, his mouth near her ear, eyes fixed on me as he whispers. Her small ballet-slippered feet twitch, tapping the floor, and she nods slowly.
"Good girl, Retalho." Spook smiles and steps back, nodding toward the tent’s exit.
Like a frightened comet, she darts away without looking back, and I can only watch her vanish.
"So, Mister Clown, what brings you to my circus?" My fists clench tighter, and I lift my gaze to Spook again.
"Work," I say firmly, catching the shadow moving to my right from the corner of my eye.
I know the bald giant is circling me, sizing me up, but I don’t look at him. I keep my focus on Spook, feeling every fiber of my being cry out for his blood to run through my hands.
"I don’t need another mouth to feed," he says with disdain, looking me up and down. "And I seriously doubt you’ve got anything to offer that might catch my interest..."
His words are cut off when the bald giant jumps back, startled as a knife slices past his face, the tip embedding itself in the thick wooden pillar holding up the tent. Spook looks from the knife to my outstretched arm, which I had swiftly raised to hurl the blade from behind my back—without even aiming.
But the only target I truly want to hit is still standing in front of me. I just couldn't act on it yet.
"This son of a bitch threw a knife at me!" the giant growls. I turn my head and look at him.
"Actually, I just trimmed your mustache," I reply, seeing the strands fall onto his shoulder—though I’d aimed for his hand.
"What the fuck did you bring into my circus, Fredo?!" Spook laughs, walking toward his guard, reaching out and picking the mustache hairs from the man’s shoulder. "He’s got balls, I’ll give him that."
He turns, rubbing his fingers together and tossing the hairs aside, sizing me up again.
"Take off that hood," he says seriously, pointing at me.
My fingers move, and I lower the jacket’s hood from my head, revealing my face. Spook raises an eyebrow, glancing nervously from Fredo to me.
"I told you I found what you were looking for in your next act," Fredo says, stepping closer to me. "Clown can even give the parents nightmares. Isn’t that what you wanted? Something unforgettable—something that makes peopl
e relive every second of the show after they’ve gone home? So, what’s better than a macabre knife thrower to make that happen?!"