Kai Wakea sprinted through the darkening streets with a bouquet of peonies and blood on his shoes. He pulled the hood of his cape low to shield his face from the fifth and fourth moons' spectral light glinting off mist-dappled cobblestones.

  The island's bell tower rang eight times, and ocean-rusted shoppe windows lit up, one after the other like carnival sparklers. Kai ran past a merchant as she flipped over her 'closed' sign.

  "Curses and corpses," he muttered in his native Uwarii, "Second time this week..." and he'd just gotten promoted to Assistant Librarian.

  Undercover work was harder than he'd thought, but as the Carnival's third leader, he had a responsibility. Their festival was losing blood-contracted performers—the spiritually-indebted were escaping and Kai had to figure out how. It was a miracle. Or an omen.

  His ears pricked at sharp whispers, and his breath caught in his throat as the air grew thick and oppressive. He glanced over his shoulder at a supernatural shadow skipping from the bakery's terracotta roof to the slaughterhouse. It paused, its tendrils twisting like ink in water. The Carnival's Trickster deity.

  Great. Kai rolled his eyes and ignored his stalker. He grabbed a lamppost and swung himself left down North Avenue. The Thousand-and-One Library was just ahead.

  Lady of Wisdom and Lady of the Fools were carved into the door. Their slender faces seemed too real tonight, as if breathing through the woodwork. Kai dusted himself off, scowling at the blood on his shoes. He licked his thumb to wipe it clean. The door creaked open, and the musk of cedar and incense drifted into the street.

  "It's fifteen past eight," a woman's voice said.

  Kai looked up with a sheepish smile, choppy curls falling into his eyes. "Already?" he asked, holding out the wilting peonies to the young librarian. He hoped she didn't notice his swollen knuckles or the blood splatters from this afternoon. Kai's stomach twisted at the memory—at the crack of the runaway's jaw under his fist. He only had to hit him once, thankfully.

  Interrogation was different from the civil wars Kai had won. "It was a necessary evil," he had lied to himself. The kid had told Kai and his mercenary women, the Ska'Dee, how he and other performers escaped, but he wouldn't say how they nullified their Blood Contracts with the festival's spirits. Kai suspected he knew the answer, though. He was looking at her.

  Taahirah Qureshi arched her eyebrow, her ornate hand chains clinking as she took Kai's peace offering. Moonlight gilded her skin a soft bronze, like the fifth moon at harvest. The freckles across her cheeks and arms scattered like delicate constellations.

  "You do know you only get paid for the hours you actually work, right?" She said, hoisting a crate of poetry books onto her hip. "I'll have to rewrite your payslip. Again."

  Kai raked his fingers through his shoulder-length hair, a slow grin played across his lips. "Just make sure there's enough to take you to dinner,"

  Taahirah smirked. "Will you be late then, too?" she asked.

  Kai laughed. She rolled her eyes and turned away, disappearing into the back of the library.

  "Hold up," he said, shadowing her between dimly lit shelves, "Is that a yes?"

  Taahirah arched an eyebrow, half-smiling as she pulled a feather duster from her crate. "Start dusting the second row," she said, tapping the duster lightly against his shoulder.

  Kai caught it, fingers closing around the handle. "You're the boss,"

  Her gaze paused at his bloodstained boots, and Kai's heart skipped a beat. The world dimmed to just them and the space between. He wanted to explain himself... to warn her...

  Taahirah looked him in the eye, her brows furrowing a second. "Do you... need a cloth for that?"

  "Probably," he said and shrugged.

  An acrid stench—a mix of decay and sweet rot—curled through the air. Kai's eyes drifted to the shifting shadows. Damned carnival spirits. They were watching. Waiting.

  "Hm," Taahirah said, "well, clean yourself up. We wouldn't want to scare off patrons,"

  Kai's grip tightened on the feather duster. He forced himself to breathe, to step away from her—The spirits hissed their disapproval.

  Taahirah Qureshi had to die for the Carnival to survive. They had chosen the librarian who defied them.

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  "Bring the rebel's head," the Carnival Investor had said. "Only then will the spirits' wrath be appeased. Until you've succeeded, I'll keep your mercenary girls as collateral. Men pay well for pretty things."

  Kai scoffed.

  "Curse you, Archimedes," he muttered. As the third leader of the Carnival, Kai knew the Investor was demonic, wanting to force his women into the hands of men.

  Kai splashed his face with water, rubbing at the dark circles under his eyes. "I need a plan," he said, but the words felt hollow. His orders were clear and the thought twisted his insides. And his wrath simmered. "There has to be a way to save both..."

  It was time for a change. And he could only trust himself.

  Walking out, Kai glanced around for more carnival spirits, ready to—they were gone. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "What in the seven hells?..."

  Taahirah kneeled at the window display, rearranging The Library's Choice of the Night, shifting philosophy beside history. A soft, supernatural glow pulsed off her skin and flecks of dust alighted in her presence, settling like gold on her shawl. Her lips moved in a silent rhythm. She was praying, again.

  Goosebumps pricked Kai's skin. A faint, swirling sigil marked her forehead. The sign of an unknown god. Kai swallowed hard, he didn't want to work with the supernatural. They all desired souls.

  He forced himself to focus, picking up the duster and starting on the second row.

  "Mind if we talk?" He asked, hoping her prayers kept the Carnival spirits at bay.

  "Depends," she said, "Is this about Eryx?"

  Kai froze at the name of the carnival runaway. "What?"

  "He's still at the Carnival, isn't he?"

  The kid's swollen face flashed before him, his torn tunic, his red-rimmed eyes. Kai averted his gaze, clenching his jaw. "What do you think?"

  "I knew the Carnival would catch on—eventually." Taahirah's glow brightened as she removed her hand chains, her fingers trembling. The sharp, defensive spikes glinted in the lantern light. "But I prayed for Eryx's soul, that he would be free before you found me."

  Kai let out a dry laugh, folding his arms. "Guess your god didn't hear your prayers,"

  Taahirah didn't answer. She set the hand chains behind the counter. "You are here to kill me, aren't you?" she asked, the words echoing through the empty library.

  Kai hesitated. "I am."

  Taahirah turned her back to him, placing the 'closed' sign in the window. With a quiet click she latched the library door.

  "May the Lord forgive you," she whispered.

  Why was she so... calm? He'd expected her to fight. To beg. Instead, Taahirah had put away her defensive attire and locked herself in with the darkness Kai carried.

  "Forgiveness?" He said and scoffed, his voice rougher than he intended. "I need no god's mercy."

  Yet, as he stepped closer, his hand twitched, the phantom blood of Eryx still warm, still dripping. Guilt burned through the ritual tattoos carved into his back—twisted marks that reminded him that he was the Carnival's Dullahan, a headless judge of souls.

  He exhaled sharply, voice low. "I wish I could defy my orders. Take my girls and leave all of this behind," His fingers curled into fists. "But the Carnival is one of the seven hells."

  "I know," Taahirah said, hugging herself. She turned to him with a sigh. "I created the Carnival."

  Her words hung in the air—soft, raw, impossible.

  Kai frowned, studying the pulsing sigil on her forehead. What kind of game was she playing?

  "The Ayid Eejin festival is built on centuries of blood, trade, and cruel prayer." He said, "You're barely twenty-five."

  Taahirah pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing. She unwrapped her shawl and parted her hair, exposing the nape of her neck. Faded tribal tattoos swirled within the fine wrinkles of her freckled skin.

  The same tattoos Kai carried. The same symbols the other two leaders of the Carnival hid beneath their robes. Marks worn by those who ruled this temple of hell.

  "It's been two hundred and thirteen years since I abandoned my creation," she said, covering the tattoos again, "I've run from my abomination long enough."

  Colour drained out of Kai's face. Taahirah was an Ancient. An immortal blessed by her unknown god to execute his divine will.

  For her confession alone, he should've killed her. Taahirah could unravel the Carnival—be its curtainfall.

  But something in Kai had shifted. Hope. The kind that gets you killed.

  He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear: "Together, we can burn it all down—and never look back."

  Finally, the Ska'Dee girls would be free. The orphan workers could touch the morning light. The widows would be warmed by the dawn. Those in the Carnival's underbelly would gaze up at the heavens without fear.

  But Taahirah's honey-tinged eyes darkened, and she slipped past him like smoke, drawing her shawl across her face.

  "We are not the same, Kai," she said, picking up the keys to the patio as she passed the counter. "There is a way that seems right, but in the end, it leads to death."

  "Then show me a better way," he said, pursuing her between the bookshelves, "Show me."

  "I am but dust," Taahirah murmured, her fingers gliding over the rusted keys. They jangled softly as she held one up to the light. "The answers you seek are divine—only a God beyond time can provide them."

  Ah, the tripwire. Kai smirked. "You would have me gamble my soul?"

  She slid the key into the lock, then paused, her voice quieter. "My redemption has been a path of sacrifice and submission. Nothing I ever wanted... but everything I needed." She glanced back at him. "Are you willing to change? To abandon the world you know?"

  Kai hesitated, weighing her words. Maybe, she was right. They were different. "The Carnival hasn't broken me yet," he said, "I'm not handing over my mind, now."

  Taahirah sighed. She opened the door. Cherry trees swayed in the morning's cool breeze, their petal-thin blossoms, white as ice, rustled. Sugar-sweet perfume thickened the air, clinging to the dew-speckled grass. Taahriah sat on the patio step, resting her head in her palm.

  Kai raked his fingers through his hair and sat next to her, the wooden step groaned under his weight. Was he making the right choice in showing mercy?

  "If Archimedes finds out..." his voice trailed off and he rubbed the back of his neck. Someone was going to die.

  “Don’t worry about men who can destroy the body.” Taahirah said as she plucked a blade of grass and closed her eyes, “We should fear God who can burn the body and soul.”