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Logline

Abduction masked as a circus act. An artist goes on a mad search for his new bride when she gets kidnapped under the guise of a circus act in a strange town, and uncovers a plot that questions all he knows about her in the process.

Blurb

"The more you search, the less you'll find, for tricks and mysteries will ruin your mind."
Thomas Rayhart has only been married a month when his new wife and love of his life, Hazel, disappears in the mysterious circus town of Okandora.

Invited inside a box to amuse the masses during a planned trick, Hazel never resurfaces. Alone among the strange people of the circus, Thomas begins to chase down clues in a town that seems intent on keeping him from his wife.

His amateur investigation leads him to Eden, a pregnant teen in search of her missing sister. Even if a year apart, Thomas hopes that the disappearances could be connected and joins Eden in her search.

Yet, as the two unlikely partners delve deeper into the enigma shrouding Okandora and its residents, especially the prestigious Sullivan family, Thomas is left grappling with the increasingly blurred lines between reality and deception.

Soon, he gets tangled up in the tendrils of his own bloody family history, and is forced to reconsider the true natures of the people around him, including his beloved wife.

Circus: A Tricks & Mysteries Novel.

Chapter 1

"Disappearing act? That's a magic trick, isn't it? I like magic tricks." ~ Kate Bush.

ACT

Hazel Rayhart's heart hammered in her chest as her hands moved to apply the pasty gel to her hair.

Even the darkest hearts can bend to love, but what is love in the face of fear? Had she surpassed it? Was her life going to be filled with love from now on?

"I've never seen your hair anything other than black. Are you changing it to some other color now?" Thomas asked from their bedroom.

Her heart stuttered, and her hands stilled, but only for a moment. "Nope. Still black," she said. How many times had she done this since... She couldn't count.

Even if she knew she wanted to hold on to the happiness she'd been engulfed in since she met Thomas, there were some things beyond her. Beyond them. Things that needed to be done.

Yes, she loved Thomas. His name rang through her head, a soothing caress that warmed her frigid heart. She couldn't remember the last time she had been so swept up in emotion. But that was a lie she was forcing herself to believe each day.

Even now, when she was his wife. Gone was Hazel Greyson. Now there was only Hazel Rayhart.

Their wedding had been the happiest day of her life and the moment would live on in her mind and soul, forever etched in gold. Even if she'd walked down the aisle alone, with the train of her fitted white dress trailing behind her, and the bouquet of white roses in her hands perched like a shield to protect her from the daggers all eyes shot at her as they watched her from every direction, her smile never once wavered.

The smile Thomas claimed had captivated him at once. Despite the number of times she'd heard his recount of their first meeting, it still shocked her how much he seemed to love her. She had thought herself to be simple.

Simple Hazel Greyson.

And yet Thomas had glorified her insecurities and bathed them in sunlight.

Her large nose? It was the perfect shape to kiss. The short hair that never grew past her shoulders was perfect for him to twirl around his fingers. Her lips? They molded perfectly with his.

He loved her in every way and every sense, and the thought of it filled her with both pure joy and an anxiety that threatened to ruin everything she'd fought so hard to build.

"I'm sure it will look amazing," Thomas said, always her biggest supporter.

It made what she had to say even harder. She counted to six in her head before she spoke, her eyes still on her reflection as she applied the last of the chemical onto the middle of her hair, just above her forehead.

"Tommy, what do you think of circuses?" Her voice trembled the tiniest bit, and she hoped he didn't catch it.

"Circuses?" He sounded curious, not suspicious, so she must have pulled it off.

"Yeah, you know, elephants, trampolines, outrageous outfits. Do any of those ring a bell?"

He chuckled. "I know what they are. I don't know much about them, but I guess they're okay."

"Any phobias I should know of?" she asked, finally turning to face him as he joined her in the bathroom. A part of her always melted whenever she stared into his warm brown eyes, and now that they rested on her, her stomach danced to a pleasurable tune. It almost drowned out the unease. Almost.

"Well..." He trailed off. His eyes traced the thin pale scar that ran from the top of Hazel's shoulder and down the front of her arm. "I don't like boxes."

His words brought a frown before she forced herself to brush it off, the sound of her chuckle bouncing off the tiled walls of their bathroom.

"Boxes?"

"You know, when all those magicians come waving their hands or whatever, and then they put one thing in the box and bring something else out. Like, what happens to the stuff while it's inside the box?"

With every word, her muscles relaxed and a soft smile took over her face as she watched his brows quiver in concentration. "But they always come out. Even if they put something in the box, they always bring it back out."

"And what about those things they bring out of the box, out of nowhere? Like how does a flock of birds fly out of a hat?"

She couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled within her. "Who said anything about hats?"

"Hats, boxes. They're one and the same. Why are you asking about this, anyway?" His eyes narrowed, holding a playful glint that matched the teasing smirk hanging on the corner of his full lips as he stalked closer to her. She had nowhere to go, so she pressed back against the counter behind her. Her heart hammered, and she wished it could be just because of his approach.

"It would be nice to visit one." The words came out tiny, almost whispered.

His brows drew together sharply. "Since when do you like circuses?"

"I don't," she muttered.

"Then why would you want to go to one?" he asked.

Apparently, she hadn't been silent enough. She forced a chuckle with a light shake of her head.

"If I don't like it, it doesn't mean I hate it. It's rather fascinating, isn't it? I've heard it's a completely different lifestyle than our own. I just want to have a new experience, and what better person to experience it with than you?" she cooed with her eyes flickering down to his lips.

"Damn right, you are!" His words came with a big grin on his face. "And if there's anyone who could make me willingly leave the comfort of my home, it would be you and you know that." He hesitated for a second. "But a circus?"

"Didn't you ever dream of running away and joining the circus when you were a kid?"

This had him full-blown laughing. "Of course not. I loved school, especially art class."

"Well, once upon a time, I did. And I want to see what I missed, if anything at all. Please? It would be something new, and I want to do it with you."

Her heart thumped as he chewed his lower lip, thinking it over. When a smile brightened his face, she knew she'd won. "Sure! Let's go for it. We could take this as our honeymoon! Yola's been asking when we plan to go."

I didn't know she cared, Hazel thought but dared not say. Thomas would plunge into the path of a fatal bullet without a moment's hesitation if it meant protecting his sister, Yolanda Chamberlain.

A deeper question gnawed at her mind—would he be equally fearless if the threat loomed over her?

Trying to push the morbid thoughts out of her head, she smiled at him before leaning up to kiss him. As she pulled away, her lips fell to a flat line when she noticed a spot of black on the wisps of golden brown hair falling over his forehead.

"Oh, no, I got some on you."

"I don't mind."

"I do. Your hair has been the same since you were born. Innocent. It should stay that way." She veered around to turn on the tap and he shifted closer to her to wash it off.

"And what if I decide to dye my hair?"

"I hope you never have to."

"Have to?"

Yes, because some people had to. But she didn't answer, just focused on getting the dye out of his hair. She only turned the tap off when she was satisfied that not even a smudge of the gel remained.

He scoffed in mock indignation as he rose. Droplets of water fell from the wet, curly strands and rolled down his forehead. Her eyes fell to the single drop that rested on the tip of his nose.

"Is my hair the only reason you fell for me? If I was some white ginger, would you have even spared me a glance?" His voice was teasing and his lips tugged up at the sides.

With a smirk of her own, she replied, "Maybe."

But she progressed to a full-blown laugh when she saw the genuine look of shock in his eyes.

"Oh, come here," she said playfully, tugging at the collar of his brown shirt with a teasing smile. Her heart thumped with excitement when his hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. "There are a lot more reasons I chose you. Now let's get ready for a honeymoon to remember!"

♝ ♔ ♝

If Thomas had taken a dart and thrown it at any point on the rickety old globe he'd received from his uncle, it was likely that he would have found himself in a more enticing location than his current surroundings, even if that place had been the tropical forest.

Life is much more beautiful when painted with love.

Those were the words that came along with the globe. But he'd only ever read them on paper, for Uncle Festus, the man who had always so passionately encouraged him to chase his dreams, was confined within the dreary walls of a mental facility, deemed not stable enough to roam free in society.

But how could this town be painted with love?

As they sat in the backseat of the moving cab, Thomas' eyes moved from building to building with great difficulty because it soon became a task for Thomas to find out what was unique to every building. Being the artist he was, he couldn't help but notice a pattern. After every third building, the fourth was painted red with a black hat prop hanging on its door. Whether it was a solemn store, a quaint pharmacy, or even a lively daycare center for babies.

"You all must have a love for hats," he said to the driver.

"Why do you say so?" The man who had only communicated through nods and grunts finally spoke.

"It's almost everywhere."

"Whatever looks like it's loved may just be hated as much."

Thomas turned to his wife, a frown creasing his brow as he took in her expression, which was a mask of intense concentration. He could sense that her thoughts mirrored his own, stirred not just by the strange words they had just heard, but also by the peculiar world unfolding around them.

The sidewalk appeared alive, littered with signs that could be riddles themselves. Because why would a sign that read, Turn here, be smack dab between two buildings with a closed sign nailed shut on both doors? Was the universe mocking their decision to explore?

His gaze followed hers to another sign that ominously cautioned, Watch your step. The words seemed to leap off the wood, adding to the disquieting atmosphere. Thomas couldn't help but wonder who the signs were tailored for.

Before he could voice his concerns, his eyes caught a more troubling sight—Hazel's right index finger was digging relentlessly at the delicate skin beneath her right thumbnail, a nervous habit that betrayed her anxiety. He let out a soft sigh and reached out to her. His fingers carefully pried through her clenched ones as she snapped her head toward him.

"Did you bring your painting?" She asked, just as he was about to ask why she'd indulged in her discrete nervous tick.

He frowned. "Which painting?"

"The one you were working on." She gasped. "Don't tell me you left your coveted paintbrushes. I thought you couldn't survive a day without them."

He gently moved closer, narrowing the gap between them, and tenderly lifted his hand to cradle her chin.

"What I can't live without is you, and you know this." He leaned in to give her a gentle kiss and pulled back but just enough for their lips to be breaths apart. "Now, what is bothering you?"

"Huh?"

He gestured with a nod to her fingers, and she looked down at their intertwined hands.

"Is it the town?"

"Um yeah." She cleared her throat. "It's new and..."

"Strange."

She nodded.

Leaning closer to whisper he said, "We could go back. Right now. It'll be as if we never left."

Her eyes came back to his, and finally, as close as he was, Thomas could see something. Or at least he thought he did, because it was gone as soon as it came.

"No. We have to do this."

Thomas couldn't help his frown. If the town was troubling her this much, why did she insist on staying? How good was this circus to make his wife want to force through her troubles just to see it?

What he now saw in her eyes was a mix of determination and he realized she'd set her mind on this. Why?

Hazel nestled closely against him, her hand circling his waist. Although he cherished the warmth she provided, he couldn't help but wonder about her silence. Something troubled her, yet she was determined to forge on and he would find out what it was and resolve it by all means. But for now, he'd have to settle.

"I guess I'll have to get fresh supplies so I can paint all this down. That way, when we leave, I'll have proof that this wasn't a dream."

He wanted to cast his eyes back out when he caught the driver's eyes on them through the rear-view mirror. The stare-down lasted a few seconds until the driver took a turn and killed the engine.

"I don't go any further."

The words of protest died on the tip of his tongue as the driver got down at once, shutting the door to any form of argument. With no choice but to walk with their luggage, Thomas and Hazel set on, surrounded by signs, hanging hats, and the sound of their luggage wheels rolling on the cobbled ground. But unlike the solemn road they'd driven on earlier, this one seemed to have more life in it.

Although the life came as two girls in plain blue dresses who were walking in the opposite direction on the other side of the road, Thomas was grateful for the faces. However, that sense of gratitude soon twisted into unease when the girls stopped in perfect unison, their eyes locking onto him with an intensity that brought a light wave of anxiety over him. As he and his wife continued to walk, the girls turned simultaneously to follow them with their gaze, a strange and unsettling curiosity dancing in their eyes.

"Ignore them." Hazel started as she trudged with her sole box behind her. "They've probably never seen anyone new. I doubt they have many visitors and it's pretty obvious why."

The motel stood as a humble, single-story building, its unremarkable exterior blending into the drab landscape of the town. A modest reception area, with a cracked linoleum floor and faded wallpaper, greeted the couple as they entered. There were only four rooms in total, each promising a basic and unadorned stay. The only motel in the whole town and it had just four rooms? They didn't even have enough provisions for visitors.

Behind the reception desk stood a woman who seemed as ordinary as the establishment itself. Her expression was flat, lacking any hint of warmth or welcome. Dressed in a plain, brown dress that blended seamlessly with the muted surroundings, she appeared to embody the drabness of the place. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight bun, so constricted that it seemed to reflect her rigid demeanor, while her lips were pursed tightly together, giving her a look that was more stern than inviting.

"How many rooms?" she inquired, her tone devoid of enthusiasm, as though she had asked the same question countless times.

"One. We're a couple."

"What, are you here for a honeymoon?" she asked with a tone just as condescending as the look her eyes cast on them.

Thomas let out a nervous chuckle. "Yes."

The woman's eyes widened, and it made Thomas smile.

"We found your town through this flier and it's known for its fun circus—"

"You're here to see Circ O'Sul. Ha! And that too for your honeymoon. You might just be as crazy as the rest of us!"

The woman's demeanor changed at once. Was his smile just as infectious to transform the woman into a whole new person?

"Here you go! Okandora welcomes you and if you end up bearing fruits..." The woman glanced down at Hazel's midsection. "We are more than capable of taking care of you and know that the child will forever be welcome here, even if you don't end up delivering her here."

"Her?" Hazel asked.

"I have a penchant for seeing certain things. You appear to hold the fruits of females, while your sister is destined for a male."

When Hazel remained silent, Thomas couldn't help but speak up. "Actually, she's an only child."

The woman's eyes drifted back to Hazel, a clear message of scrutiny in their depths.

"Well, have your key, and welcome to Okandora."

♝ ♔ ♝

The door closed with a slam that sent a jolt through Hazel. Muscle memory kicked in, and she instinctively grabbed the first object her mind registered as a weapon. As luck would have it, it was just a hairbrush. What harm could that do to anyone?

With a tight grip around the handle of the brush, she turned, her expression poised for a confrontation, but then her eyes locked onto Thomas and his furious gaze. At that moment, all thoughts of battle evaporated, and she let the brush fall onto the bed. She let out a sigh of relief.

It wasn't her time yet.

"What is it?" asked Hazel as she padded across the room to close the distance between them, trying to ignore the unsteady beating of her heart.

"There's not a single restaurant!"

When Hazel had woken up earlier and found the bed empty beside her, she wondered where her husband could have gone so early and without making a sound. Never was there a time. Thomas had woken up without her knowing or already being awake. It wasn't because he couldn't be quiet, but because she found herself so attuned to her surroundings that even while she slept, her ears remained cautious and her muscles alert, as if waiting for a disaster to strike.

A sad consequence of her sordid past.

"Why did you go searching for one? Mrs. Mead has been more than kind."

On the evening they arrived, the woman at the reception knocked on their door precisely two hours after they had settled into their modest motel room. Hazel always had a knack for keeping track of time, her instinct driving her to glance at the clock whenever she entered anywhere or received a visitor. Perhaps it was her way of safeguarding herself against unforeseen mishaps, diligently gathering details before anything could spiral out of control. Yet this visit led her nowhere.

Mrs. Mead, the transformed receptionist, stood outside their door with a radiant smile that seemed to brighten the dim corridor. The delightful aroma of the freshly baked pie in her hand wrapped around Hazel like a warm hug. From that moment on, Mrs. Mead had made it a ritual to greet them at mealtimes with a tray laden with her homemade culinary delights.

So why did Thomas feel compelled to venture out in search of a restaurant? Mrs. Mead's food had been more than delicious and Hazel couldn't be any more grateful. It had given them the chance to spend their time together, indulging in stolen moments in bed, lingering kisses in the shower, and a sense of intimacy that was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Although it was just two days, Hazel felt it was more sex than she'd had in her whole life.

Her eyes watched Thomas' shoulders sag as his lips let out a sigh.

"I love that it's just you and I ever since and yes, Mrs. Mead's food is amazing, but I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed before we head out for the circus today."

She couldn't help the smile on her lips. She took one last step, closing the gap between them as she raised her hand to hold his arm, lightly squeezing the muscles that bulged underneath his shirt.

"Thank you."

His eyes flashed to hers. "For what? I didn't get the food."

"But you thought of it."

She leaned in to kiss him and with her lips on his, she said, "I'm sure Mrs. Mead will know better when we ask her. But..." Her grateful smile morphed into a sly one. "For now, she's already bought something, but it will wait because I'm starving."

♝ ♔ ♝

When Hazel finally stepped out, the fading evening sun made it even clearer. Every night she'd slept beside Thomas, he'd spooned her and her mind had always drifted to the alluring spectacle outside their window.

Marked by its vibrant red and black striped tent, the circus, perched at the highest point of the town—the very heart of it—rose like a beacon against the twilight sky with its pointed tip piercing the heavens. Even as darkness enveloped the town, the myriad of golden lights strung across the tent shimmered like stars scattered across the canvas of night, creating an atmosphere that beckoned to all who passed by.

Her gaze finally shifted from the hypnotizing tent as they neared it when she felt Thomas's warm palms envelop her hand. She looked down at their intertwined hands. Would she ever get used to it?

"I don't want to tend to another wound," he murmured, his voice laced with concern, as his eyes held a gentle, earnest look that seemed to penetrate her thoughts, and she knew he'd caught her again.

What had started as a means to divert her mind from pain had evolved into an act almost as involuntary and automatic as breathing.

"Sorry, I got carried away," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, guilt creeping into her chest.

"Do you want to go back to the motel?" The question clung to her thoughts as they got closer, merging with the distant sounds of laughter, music, and anticipation that echoed from within the tent.

Yes, she thought. A flash of desire for the familiar comfort of their room rushed through her.

"No, it's fine," she finally said, forcing herself to look ahead. "We're already here."

As they stood before the circus, the tent loomed much larger, its height intimidating. She had to tilt her head back, her neck straining to take in the full spectacle above her. Now, enveloped in the eerie yet captivating shadows cast by the circus, a persistent unease gnawed at Hazel's insides.

Would she make it out?