He nodded, watching Sadie prance and smile, cheered on by the other midgets.
In the circus finale, Ravi and his partners cut their high-wire act short since each was tired. As he flew around the big top alone, he spied the Rakshasi dwarf sitting in the front row, soaking up the attention of her new friends. So far his plan was working.
After the show ended, he changed to street clothes and left Fred to watch out for Alice. People hurried along at a brisk pace in the French Quarter. With prohibition, no one wanted to raise suspicion. Ravi located the courtyard entrance to the secret private residence where owners of the Old Absinthe House continued operation for their special customers, including Jack. He knew everyone.
Focusing his power into his eyes, Ravi detected the glow of the Rakshasi dwarf’s magic shining out the second floor window. She was there and getting plenty bent since Jack paid the tab.
Ravi seated himself at a café table across the courtyard and ordered a simple gumbo dinner, passing time talking with the locals about circus tales. When the restaurant closed at four, he sauntered under the window of the speakeasy.
Sadie’s glow fluctuated wildly, as he expected after she enjoyed enough of the house drink—absinthe, a hallucinogen.
He sat on the porch step and patiently waited another hour. Adrenaline warded off any need for sleep. Then, at the agreed upon time, he rang the bell at the door of the establishment.
A brut of a man opened it a crack. “Name please, sir?”
“Ravi, Ravi Suparna.”
He consulted a list. “Ahh. Yes. With Jack Spangler.” After opening the door wider, he said, “This way, sir.”
Ravi followed up the narrow, dark staircase. The boards creaked under his footsteps. His movements seemed suspended as though in slow motion, yet his pulse raced. He walked down a hall and into the doorway of the gathering room.
There, Sadie writhed on the floor in a doped delirium. Her small friends appeared no better.
Jack, coffee before him, propped his head on his hands and raised his eyes to Ravi. “Your turn.”
“It is, finally.” He shot a volley of fiery light at Sadie to incapacitate any power she may still control. He grabbed her up and hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of flour, carrying her out the French doors onto the balcony.
Jack trailed after them, leaving the rest of the group in a helpless heap.
Ravi laid the demon on the floor and pinned her with his flaming gaze.
Within a moment, a pink haze of dawn rose over the café where he ate earlier. Soft light warmed the late spring sky. Sadie wiggled, but was held fast. Gentle, cloud-filtered rays bathed the second floor of the speakeasy. The Rakshasi’s eyes flew open and she flinched. Drugged with absinthe, she couldn’t coordinate power to her limbs. “Damn you. Let me go!”
As the sun traveled above a cloud, Ravi sent out a burst of light from his eyes. Magnifying the strength of his solar lord, he created the Rakshogna—the sacred light.
The demon screeched at the top of her lungs. Thankfully, no one in the courtyard took notice, accustomed to folks reacting in odd ways to the absinthe. Slowly, under Ravi’s fiery stare, her body burned to a pile of gray ash.
Then, all was silent. Jack clapped him on the back. “Won’t ask how you did that. You’re a good man. That’s all that matters. I remember a while back, you asked to expand your act, needin’ a raise. Let’s do that.”
Moisture seeped from the corners of Ravi’s eyes before the fire had completely faded. “Need raise to buy Alice a ring.” He pumped the manager’s hand. “Thank you, Jack.”
The manager draped an arm around his shoulder. “I reckon I could use you as my assistant too, for a bit more pay. Let’s go grab a doughnut and then get her a big, sparkly one when the stores open. Our camp needs that happiness…and no more dwarfs.”
On the way back to camp with the ring, Ravi’s palms grew damp, hoping Alice would say yes. On one corner, they walked past a shabby young girl selling flowers. She stepped up to him and held out a bouquet of fresh pink roses and baby’s breath. “You need these for your gal. No charge—my treat for you. All love the Birdman, especially her.” Inside her hazel eyes her soul smiled at him and his heart danced.
***The End***
A note from the author:
If you enjoyed reading Le Cirque de Magie, I’d very much appreciate if you’d help spread the word and post a review on Amazon, Goodreads, LibraryThing, blogs, or wherever you like to talk about books.
I love to hear from readers. At my website MarshaAMoore.com you can contact me, read my blog, and find my social media connections. To be notified about my new releases, exclusive prizes and giveaways just for subscribers, and best of all, opportunities to receive advance copies of my newest books in exchange for honest reviews, sign up for my newsletter. As a thank you gift for subscribing, you’ll receive my paranormal romance short story, Ruler of the Night.
—Marsha
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Other novels and stories by Marsha A. Moore
For details and excerpts please visit
MarshaAMoore.com
Coon Hollow Coven Tales:
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Series description:
The series is about a coven of witches in a fictitious southern Indiana community, south of Bloomington, the neck of the woods where I spent my favorite childhood years surrounded by the love of a big family. The books are rich with a warm Hoosier down-home feel. There are interesting interactions between coven members and locals from the nearby small town of Bentbone. If magic wasn’t enough of a difference between the two groups, the coven folk adhere to the 1930s lifestyle that existed when the coven formed.
Witch’s Moonstone Locket: A Coon Hollow Coven (Book 1)
Twenty-three-year-old Jancie Sadler was out of the room when her mother died, and her heart still longs for their lost goodbye. Aching to ease her sorrow, Aunt Starla gives Jancie a diary that changes her entire life. In entries from the 1930s, her great grandmother revealed how she coped with her own painful loss by seeking out a witch from nearby Coon Hollow Coven. The witch wore the griever’s moonstone locket, which allowed whoever could unlock its enchantment to talk with the dead.
Determined to find that locket, Jancie goes to the coven’s annual carnival held in her small southern Indiana town of Bentbone. This opposes her father’s strict rule: stay away from witches. But she’s an adult now and can make her own decisions. She meets Rowe McCoy, the kind and handsome witch who wears the moonstone. He agrees to let her try to open the locket, but they’re opposed by High Priestess Adara and her jealous desire to possess him. Desperate for closure with her mother, Jancie persists and cannot turn away from a perilous path filled with magic, romance, and danger.
Witch’s Cursed Cabin: A Coon Hollow Coven (Book 2)
Eager to be on her own away from home, twenty-year-old Aggie Anders accepts a relative’s invitation to live in Coon Hollow Coven. Although she’s a witch from a different coven, what locals say about the Hollow confuses her. How can witchcraft there live and breathe through souls of the dead?
Aggie’s new residence in this strange southern Indiana world is a deserted homestead cabin. The property’s carriage house serves as the coven’s haunted Halloween fundraiser. It’s a great opportunity for her to make new friends, especially with the coven’s sexy new High Priest Logan.
But living in the homestead also brings Aggie enemies. Outsiders aren’t welcome. A cantankerous, old neighbor tries to frighten her off by warning her that the homestead is cursed. Local witches who practice black magic attempt to use their evil to drive Aggie away and rid their coven of her unusual powers as
a sun witch.
Determined to stay and fit in, Aggie discovers not only that the cabin is cursed, but she alone is destined to break the curse before moonrise on Samhain. If she fails, neither the living nor the dead will be safe.
Blood Ice & Oak Moon: A Coon Hollow Coven Tale (Book 3)
Esme Underhill is about to discover a darkness hidden inside her that could destroy her chance for independence and possibly kill her.
Esme’s mother took her young daughter away from Southern Indiana’s Coon Hollow Coven to prevent her from learning about the unusual witchcraft she had inherited. When Esme is twenty-seven, her beloved Grammy Flora passes away and leaves her property in the Hollow to her granddaughter. With this opportunity to remake her life and gain independence, Esme attempts to emulate Grammy Flora as a wildwood mystic who relies on the hedge world of faeries to locate healing herbs. But fae are shrewd traders. When they open their world to her, she must meet the unknown malevolence of her birthright.
Thayne, the handsome king of the fae Winter Court, faces his own struggle to establish autonomy as a new regent. He is swept into the tempest of Esme’s unfolding powers, a dangerous threat to his court. His sworn duty is to protect his people, despite Esme’s beauty and allure, which tear at his resolve.
Both Esme’s and Thayne’s dreams of personal freedom are lost…unless they can trust each other and overcome surmounting dangers.
Enchanted Bookstore Legends:
Genre: Epic Fantasy Romance
Series description:
The Enchanted Bookstore Legends are about Lyra McCauley, a woman destined to become one of five strong women in her family who possess unique magical abilities and serve as Scribes in Dragonspeir. The Scribes span a long history, dating from 1,200 to present day. Each Scribe is expected to journey through Dragonspeir, both the good and evil factions, then draft a written account. Each book contains magic with vast implications.
Lyra was first introduced to Dragonspeir as a young girl, when she met the high sorcerer, Cullen Drake, through a gift of one of those enchanted books. Using its magic, he escorted her into the parallel world of Dragonspeir. Years later, she lost that volume and forgot the world and Cullen. These legends begin where he finds her again—she is thirty-five, standing in his enchanted bookstore, and Dragonspeir needs her.
When Lyra reopens that enchanted book, she confronts a series of quests where she is expected to save the good Alliance from destruction by the evil Black Dragon. While learning about her role, Lyra and Cullen fall in love. He is 220 years old and kept alive by Dragonspeir magic. Cullen will die if Dragonspeir is taken over by the evil faction…Lyra becomes the Scribe.
Seeking a Scribe: Enchanted Bookstore Legend One
Heritage Avenged: Enchanted Bookstore Legend Two
Lost Volumes: Enchanted Bookstore Legend Three
Staurolite: Enchanted Bookstore Legend Four
Quintessence: Enchanted Bookstore Legend Five
Shadows of Serenity
Genre: Women’s fiction mystery/Magical realism
Joyce Runsey spends her life savings to open a yoga studio in an historic Victorian St Augustine house, only to discover the property is haunted. A female ghost’s abusive and very much alive husband still tortures her by using dark witchcraft. The disruptive energy thwarts Joyce’s ambition to create a special environment to train students to become yoga teachers.
Joyce engages in a deadly battle with not only the tormented spirit, but also the dangerous husband. To protect her students from harm, she must overcome mounting obstacles. An unknown swami pays an unexpected visit to give advice on how to free the anguished ghost. Can Joyce comprehend and follow the wise man’s guidance in time to save everyone who depends on her?
Short Stories:
Sea Glass and Sand Memories
Back to Table of Contents
Excerpt from
Seeking a Scribe: Enchanted Bookstore Legend One
Chapter One: Licorice Memories
The smell of anise greeted Lyra as she opened the door to Drake’s bookstore. It took her back to happy childhood memories. Licorice-shoe-string-rewards for following her parents’ requests to stay on the dock while they secured the family’s pleasure boat to its trailer. The aroma brought a fleeting remembrance of times long gone, a treasure now that her folks had recently passed. At ease with the familiar scent, she settled into browsing through rows of antique bookcases.
The shop owner stuck his head around a set of shelves. “Do you like tea?”
“Yes, I do.” Before she could finish speaking, he disappeared. “Is that the wonderful smell?” she called out.
Kitchenware clinked in the back room. Receiving no answer, Lyra followed the noises, scanning collections as she walked. This bookshop appeared established, but surely she would have remembered it from her last visit to the Lake Huron village five years ago. Books were her passion, especially fantasy. She paused in front of that section and studied its titles.
The owner appeared, holding a pewter tray with a teapot, two cups, sugar jar, spoons, and napkins, which he laid on the corner of an old library table. She watched him carefully pour the tea and hand her a cup. He was about her age, mid thirties or a bit older, and handsome. His medium brown hair, peppered with gray at the temples, grazed his shoulders in wavy layers, and his beard was trimmed into a neat goatee. He wore long shorts, a knit golf shirt, and sandals—typical casual attire for this island resort community.
She set down her bag from the drugstore and accepted his offer with a smile. “Thanks. My name’s Lyra.” She blew across the hot surface of the tea to cool it and then inhaled the anise-scented steam. She closed her eyes to fully enjoy the memory. “Ah!”
“Afternoons of boating and licorice with your parents? Right?” he asked.
Her mouth dropped open. How did he know that?
He slurped from his cup. “Go ahead, take a sip. My folks gave me the same reward for taking my kid sister along on bicycle rides.”
Forgetting all about the tea, she asked, “How do you know my childhood memory?”
“Taste it.” His lips curled into a sly grin as he took another gulp.
She cautiously took a tiny sip, just enough to wet her lips and the tip of her tongue. The flavor flooded her mouth, and her mind swam with wonderful memories. The taste transformed into that of gigantic popcorn balls the sheriff’s wife down the street made for Halloween trick-or-treaters, accompanied by images of Lyra’s costume—a red, fringed gypsy skirt borrowed from Mom. Next came a pumpkin flavor and vision of holding a cold piece of “punky-pie” in her five-year-old hand. Another swallow returned her experience back to anise. “What is this? How did you know?”
“Let me introduce myself.” His grin spread into a smile as his eyes met hers. He took a step closer. “I’m Cullen, Cullen Drake, and I know many things. What I don’t know is what sort of books you like to read.”
His keen interest caused heat to rise in her cheeks. “Well, actually I have several favorites, all fantasy and magical realism. You have a number of authors I like in this section.” She turned to refer to the shelves behind her, but found non-fiction hunting guides instead. “This case held classic fantasy a moment ago!”
Cullen put down his cup. “It moved. It’s over here, and I have just what you want.” He slid an old-fashioned library ladder along its track, set the locking device, and climbed straight up to the top shelf.
Lyra followed, walking between four comfortable leather club chairs grouped on a Persian rug. A portrait of a young girl and a man wearing a cloak caught her attention. Something seemed familiar in the child’s smile.
The noise of books sliding on shelves distracted her. She moved to t
he base of his ladder and glanced up. The ceiling of embossed tin panels decorated with Victorian teardrop chandeliers and paper Chinese dragons made a unique combination, to be sure.
But Lyra was more curious about the strange happenings in the store and its owner. He was certainly odd, although not the bookish, geeky sort who usually ran bookshops she frequented. He had an athletic frame and strong legs.
“Can’t find it!” he exclaimed and quickly descended. His brow furrowed, he dusted off his hands on his shorts. “I’ve got to find that volume for you. If you don’t mind me saying, there’s a sadness about you. The book will make you happier than you’ve been since those days of licorice shoe strings.”
“After magical tea and shifting bookcases, I almost believe you.” She laughed to cover her concerns. Even four months after it was final, she worried that the loneliness she felt after her divorce blazed like a beacon on her forehead. But, Cullen knew so much—it startled her…actually, intrigued her. Her ex didn’t ever see inside her, didn’t want to. This man read her as though he knew her. Did he? He seemed so familiar.
“Once I find that book, I promise, you’ll be pleased.” He stroked his goatee. “Hmm. Where did I last see it?” The twinkle in his gray-blue eyes captivated Lyra. “Will you be here for the week? I can look for it and call you later.”
“I’m staying the rest of the summer with my elderly Aunt Jean. She owns a lovely cottage at the end of Walnut overlooking Lake Huron. I thought I’d keep her company and give her time away from her nurse during my teaching break. While I’m here, I plan to write my novel.”
“Great! You’re a writer? What do you teach?”
“Yes, and I teach American Literature at Southern University in Florida. Seems like you already would’ve known that since you jumped into my childhood memories,” she stammered, attempting some humor. Taking a long draught of the tea, her mind filled with memories of her pet dachshund wiggling next to her, displacing a row of dolls. Another part of her past he knew—impossible! Her forehead beaded with sweat.
“No, only thoughts associated with a lot of emotion, like the happiness of snuggling with your dog.”
“How?” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “I don’t understand.” Her mind swam, trying to grasp what happened. She desperately needed some fresh air. With trembling hands she set the cup down.
“I realize it must seem odd, but the book I’m looking for will help explain.” He leaned closer with a smile that somehow reassured her. “This is Saturday. If you can come by next Wednesday morning, I think I should have it for you by then…if you’d like.” He paused and looked into her eyes, waiting for a reply.