Karl’s eyebrows jump in surprise. ‘The mask?’
I take a deep breath. ‘I told you that Loki is at the circus. He did something to the masks in the costume trailer; he brought them to life somehow.’
Karl chuckles and I feel the blood drain from my face. Disbelief hardens to dismay. He’s the one person I was sure would believe me; I don’t understand. The old circus manager looks at Stig and back to me. ‘Very amusing, but I don’t have time for this.’
‘But you know there’s something bad at the circus. You agreed that the performers have been acting differently, that their personalities have changed.’ Karl laughs to himself but I refuse to give up. ‘When did it start? People changing, I mean?’
‘I’ll tell you when things went wrong . . . the day the owners started making changes!’
He starts to walk away and I grab his arm. ‘When you did the myth of Baldur, that was the first time the circus had performed one of the Trickster’s stories in, what, ninety years?’ He doesn’t say anything and I continue. ‘After the fire that nearly destroyed the place, your father decided to never perform his stories again.’ Karl shrugs and I think back to what Loki said in the hall of mirrors. So when the circus finally performed one of my myths . . . Well, let’s just say I got a little excited.
‘After Loki caused the death of Nina, Odin came up with the wager to make him leave, knowing that a game would appeal to his twisted sense of fun.’
Karl sighs impatiently and I talk quickly. ‘I know it’s hard to believe, but the Trickster is real. He hates being kept out – that’s why he lost his temper when he wasn’t allowed into the hall of the gods. Excluding him from the circus made him angry. When you finally did one of his stories he got revenge by enchanting the masks.’
Stig steps forward. He glances at me with concern, but there’s not a trace of doubt in his eyes. ‘You have to listen to her, Karl. Martha knows about these things. If she says it’s true, you need to believe her.’
Karl scoffs. ‘Then you two are well matched, both as crazy as each other.’ He stuffs the carrier bag into the large pocket of his duffle coat and walks away.
‘Loki is going to destroy the circus. You have to listen to me!’ When he doesn’t stop, I shout, ‘What about the runes in the trees?’
He turns around and flaps his arm. ‘I did that.’
‘What?’
‘I hoped it would make them cancel tonight’s show.’
I stare at him, not wanting to believe it. ‘But how? There were hundreds of them.’
‘I carved the trees on the trail last, the rest I did in the night. There weren’t hundreds. People see what they want to see.’
‘But you told me –’
‘Look, I’m sorry if my little prank has put ideas in your head. There is something bad at the circus, and it’s Oskar!’
I grab Karl’s arm and he frowns at me, but I don’t let go. I hold his sleeve and clear my mind, letting the material show me what it wants. Stig must realise what I’m doing as he tries to distract him. ‘We don’t want Oskar to ruin things either. Maybe there’s something we can do to help?’ Karl looks at him confused and then stares down at my hand on his arm.
His jacket speaks of guilt, but this time the material shows me something else. He doesn’t feel bad because he introduced one of Loki’s stories. He’s not superstitious, he just hates change. He can’t forgive himself for agreeing to the owners’ demands to update the routines. In the end they brought in new management anyway. Karl couldn’t argue; after all, he was in charge when Nina had the accident. Everyone told him to retire, but to what? He had nowhere to go. So he stayed and grew bitter.
Karl pulls away from me and limps back down to the field. He’s given his entire life to the circus. The myths are more than just stories to him – they’re his childhood memories, his life’s work. He can’t bear to stand by while some upstart ruins everything. He’d rather see the place shut down. Karl carved Loki’s name on the trees, he invited chaos by trying to make them call off the show. He wanted to make the circus lose money, hoping the owners would hand its management back to him.
‘Ruth was right, his superstitious thing was an act,’ I say. Stig looks confused and I go on, ‘He wanted people to think doing myths with Loki would bring bad luck, but he didn’t believe any of it.’
‘What about his book? Did he make it all up?’ asks Stig.
‘Karl doesn’t believe in the gods in the way his father did, but he was happy for people to think something terrible would happen if they didn’t stick to the routines they’ve always done. He knows circus people can be superstitious. It suited him to repeat his dad’s warnings, but really he just didn’t want Oskar to change things.’
Stig shakes his head as if he can’t believe it. ‘Karl took the harness, so maybe he’s gone to speak to Ulva. Should I go and find her?’ he asks. I shrug, not knowing if it would help. I hoped that if I confronted Ulva with the evidence, she would confess. But Karl is so closed-minded, I don’t see how I’m ever going to convince him.
A dark shape is standing further along the path, half hidden in the shadow of a tent. I peer closer and see the outline of a person. The walkway is empty, so how did I not see them before?
The jester steps forward and my heart jumps to my throat. I cover my mouth and point, but Stig only frowns. ‘I don’t see anything. What is it? What’s there?’ he asks.
The jester taps his foot and the bells on his shoe jingle.
Stig’s voice is taut with fear. ‘Is it Nina? Why can’t I see her?’
I shake my head, unable to look away. There’s something sickening about the slow way the jester smiles, and then I see what he’s grinning at.
Sandrine ambles around the corner in her bird mask, whistling to herself. The long feathers bounce as she walks, her cheeks rosy from the cold. She makes her way towards the psychic tent and then stops abruptly. I wait for her to turn around but she doesn’t. She walks backwards, taking long stiff strides, never once turning her head or looking over her shoulder.
Stig tugs my arm and whispers, ‘What’s she doing? Martha?’
I swallow hard, a bitter taste in my mouth. ‘I don’t know.’
27
THE WHOLE PLACE IS BURNING
C
rack-crack-crack. Sandrine’s body convulses and then goes rigid. She rises into the air, her toes barely touching the ground, and slowly rotates. Her chin rests on her chest, her long hair hanging down as she glides forward, her boots bumping and dragging along the walkway. She halts a few metres before us, and somewhere behind me Stig makes a whimpering sound.
Sandrine’s head snaps up, revealing the long feathers of her mask. Her eyes dart in every direction, her breathing fast and shallow, her chest fluttering like a panicked bird. I look towards the jester but he’s gone. My blood pounds in my ears as I turn and check around me, and then a gruff voice whispers from behind, ‘Such a pretty falcon. Rather too fond of preening herself though; a bit like her owner.’
I spin around and grab Stig’s arm. He glances in every direction, unable to see Loki, his face pale with fright.