Carnival Souls

A Spiritual Encounter

The next morning Lira was poking a bowl of brown oatmeal with a spoon. It looked anything but appetizing.

"Can't Mitsi come up with something more creative?" she grumbled through a yawn. She watched with mild disgust as the contents of her spoon slopped back into the bowl.

"He's baking for tonight," said Atlas, who was sitting across from her. "We're expecting a lot."

"Great," replied Lira. Her arms and fingers ached and her body felt weak, like she was recovering from a bout of flu. She didn't know how Bebinn expected her to play tonight.

The sound of footsteps from the hallway heralded Owen's arrival into the dining room. He stopped in the doorway, spotted them, and altered his course so he came to the head of the mahogany table.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked.

Atlas said, "Yes," while Lira just glared at him.

"I'm surprised you want to associate with a child snatcher," she said.

The boy grimaced at her words and remained standing. He looked as tired as Lira felt, as though he had spent most of the night awake. Which, Lira reminded herself, he probably had. She hadn't slept for days when she first arrived here. Every time she managed to fall asleep, she would jerk awake at the smallest noises, convinced something was coming to get her. Now she fell into coma-like slumbers every night she was forced to play, but never felt rested when she rose the next morning.

"About that," said Owen. He swallowed and gave a small smile. "I wanted to apologize for what I said last night. I shouldn't have been so quick to blame you."

Lira pursed her lips and went back to pushing around her food. She wasn't quite sure why his words still stung. Plenty worse had been screamed at her, and she'd had more than a few kids take swings at her-which had prompted her to ask Mitsi for self-defense classes-but for some reason Owen's outrage still hung over her like a thunderstorm.

"I-I actually wanted to ask for your help," he continued.

"Funny how that works," said Lira. She felt the heat from Atlas's gaze across the table.

"Maybe you've given up on ever going home, but I haven't," Owen said, lowering his voice.

"Don't worry, that will go away with time."

Owen sat down and clasped his hands in front of him on the table. "Look, I just need a couple of questions answered.

She noticed his eyes move from her face to her neck. His brow furrowed a bit in confusion as he saw what she referred to as her tattoo. Like Atlas, the Spirit World had changed Lira's skin pigment. Where Atlas's markings were sharp and angular, Lira's were soft, lazy brush strokes of pale lavender that swirled from her collarbone to her jawline. She pulled up the collar of her shirt to cover them and Owen blushed faintly as his eyes met hers once more.

"And why should I bother answering them?"

Lira flinched as Atlas placed two fingers on her shoulder. She hadn't heard the other girl get up.

"He is new," she murmured, barely loud enough for Owen to hear. "You were the same once."

"Yeah and no one answered mine either," grumbled Lira.

Atlas's eyes flashed, the red in them making her seem almost sinister, tiny as she was. "Sorry," amended Lira. "I know you tried to help."

Lira wasn't usually this aggressive, but the exertion of the previous night coupled with the fact that she had to play again in less than twelve hours made her more irritable than normal. That, and she didn't want to witness another of Bebinn's captives fall into despair. Owen was just so infuriatingly optimistic.