The Mermaid's Sister(59)

“O’Neill!” I cry. My feet refuse to move.

“Shut up or I’ll add both your names to my collection.” Jasper says through clenched teeth.

The names on his leg. They are not the names of his father’s victim’s. They are the names of Jasper’s kills.

Jasper uses the toe of his boot to roll O’Neill off Soraya’s still body. O’Neill moans, and I see blood seeping from his shoulder. But he is alive!

The speed at which Dr. Phipps pushes Soraya from his chest and gets to his feet is nothing short of supernatural. His fists pummel Jasper’s face and neck before Jasper has a chance to raise his gun. The force of a blow to his ribs causes Jasper to drop the gun and collapse onto the ground.

“How do you dare, son?” Phipps rages. “How do you dare attempt to murder me?”

From where he has fallen, Jasper lifts his empty hands in surrender. “I shot O’Neill to save you, Papa,” he says quickly. “He has a knife! He would have stuck you with it!”

Dr. Phipps kicks Jasper in the side and then in the head. Jasper curls into a ball and whimpers.

“After all that I have done for you!” Phipps shouts. “After all I have given for you!” He staggers toward the fire. “For you, my son, I created the most spectacular shows! I gave you all that you asked! I washed the blood from your guilty hands time after time, and I gave you everything!”

Phipps pulls a blazing branch from the fire. “Enough is enough,” he proclaims to the stars. “Enough!” He lifts the branch above his head and brings it down upon Maren’s jar. The glass shatters and the water floods out, and Maren lies helpless on spilled pearls and glass shards. Her mouth is open in the shape of a scream. Her body flops like a beached fish’s.

“No,” I cry, “no!” She must not die like this, alone and afraid, suffocating for want of water.

“The show is over, son!” Dr. Phipps shouts as he wobbles and swerves his way toward the wagons. He brandishes the makeshift torch and sets the large wagon ablaze with it before tossing it through the open door of the small wagon. “By the flames of Hell, I disown it and you, Jasper! The devil take you both! You were more his son than mine.”

As the doctor paces and rants about demons and betrayals, flames engulf the wagons, roaring and crackling and sending black smoke into the starry sky.

I rush to Maren and scoop up her doll-sized body. “Maren, Maren,” I say desperately. She grips my arm with a tiny hand and shuts her eyes. “You must not die, sister. Please hold on.”

I hurry to a bucket of water near the campfire, and I set Maren inside. It is a tight fit, but for now it must suffice.

Carrying the bucket tight against my breast, I run to a cluster of bushes and hide it under the lowest branches. “Wait for me,” I say to Maren. One tiny pearl rolls down her sunken cheek. “O’Neill is hurt, and I must go back for him. Are you listening, Maren? Do not die, sister. Rest and wait for us to return. Understand?”

She nods.

I run. The flames leap above us, tongues of fire trying to lick the stars from the heavens. Dr. Phipps’s maniacal laughter sends chills through my body—but it occurs to me that I am not at all afraid.

I am beyond fear’s reach. I will do what I must to save O’Neill.

I run past Jasper, who’s still rolled up like a scared hedgehog, muttering. My draught has not worked, after all. No wonder Auntie found me a frustrating student.

Phipps grabs Soraya by the hair and drags her along the ground. She moans faintly as her veil slips off and her beautiful yellow sari snags on sharp stones. Between her breasts, like a hideous flower, a bloodstain blossoms. The bullet that pierced O’Neill must have passed through his body and into hers.

“Look, woman,” Phipps says as he yanks her into a sitting position. “Your life is in flames, ruined by your treachery and your son’s wickedness!” He looks down at her then, with the smug face of a pitiless conqueror. But his whole aspect changes when he sees the spreading blood. He is transformed from vanquisher to vanquished in the blink of an eye. “My darling Soraya,” he cries as he falls to his knees. “My love!” He draws her limp body into his arms and covers her with kisses. Deep, heaving sobs reduce him to a shuddering heap.

“O’Neill.” I crouch beside him and gently pat his pale cheek. He opens his eyes. “Come,” I whisper. “We must get away.”

“The doctor is mad,” O’Neill says as I haul him to his feet. “The seven-needle root has turned his brain.”

“And you are wounded,” I say. “Now be quiet and come along.” He takes a halting step, leaning heavily on me.

“Where do you think you are going?” Jasper says from behind us. I turn. His gun is pointed at my head.

“Please,” I beg. “Let us go. The show is over, and you do not need us anymore.”

“Oh, but I do need you. I will make a new show: The Great Jasper and Company. But if you would prefer not to join me, O’Neill and the mermaid’s names will go here,” he says, pointing to his left thigh. “And I will put your name here, Clara darling.” He pats his right thigh. “So that even in memoriam you shall be parted from your sister and your lover. It is your choice to make. I do not wish to kill you, truly, but if you insist on opposing me, you will leave me no other option.”