Blessed Virgin of the Circus- 3.

Illustration by Karla Usagi

The pain in the center of her forehead throbbed. Mara came to, and found herself in Mala’s tent.

“So we meet again, gadji cuntbag. Bet you didn’t know we were running a fight club in here.”

Bao, Annie and Jen laughed. Jen peeled off her boxing gloves.

“Mu wunneng wour enchomen rou training?” Mara’s mouth felt stuffed with cotton balls.

“I can’t understand you, bitch. Ask the cards a question, pay me for joining the club or get out of my fucking tent.” Mala hated Mara with a fiery passion. People were always confusing the two of them, even though in her opinion they had nothing in common. The two had dark hair in the same haircut. That was about it. Mala had three children and Mara was a queer as far as she was concerned. She didn’t care. She was tired of white cunts telling her what to do or how to run her business. Mala had tried to smile and be kind at first. She’d had a soft spot for the lost and an instinct to take in strays that nobody else wanted. Then she’d started to question why she ever stuck her neck out.

“Wuck you.” Mara didn’t even know how she ended up in the fortunetelling tent.

“Hey, hey. Maybe I should give you another chance. Let’s play. Bao, you wanna go first?” Bao assumed the fighting stance. She was almost a foot shorter than Mara but utterly terrifying and the mouth guard just made her look bloodthirsty. Mara hadn’t ever truly recalled fistfighting, but her upper body was strong from the contortion and acro. She lifted up her heel, and jabbed Bao in the solar plexus.

**

In this vision, the Virgin was surrounded by the golden light again. Mara was vomiting at her feet this time. She looked up, and her eyes pierced, becoming completely black as the pupils. Telepathically, she was saying something. Offerings. Mara had been remiss with her offerings. She didn’t even know what the Virgin liked. It would have been a too-good use of logic to ask directly. But also fear-inducing.

**

She started recalling things again in Jerry’s camper. J. had seen a dance injury or few hundred in his time but it was a bit since he had dealt with a concussion. “Stay awake, baby. Stay awake. I knew you were ok because you were breathing. But I’ve seen and heard some horror stories. Shit shit shit.” He ran the TV and started looking for some background stuff. Mara was able to focus better. The headache was painful but now it felt like a surface bump.

“Just stay awake, baby. I’m gonna fix you some coffee. Might do something about the headache, too. Who knows.” He didn’t. He’d actually never dealt with a head trauma at the ballet and was aghast at the moment, but doing his best to maintain composure. He’d had no idea how or why she ended up at Mala’s tent. Mala was very at odds with most of the cast, though LaShawn had managed to get her to obey him, which was incredible as far as everyone else was concerned. She was also wonderful at false kindness, so that few could get the dirt on her. Jerry had even less idea as to why Mara was more or less knocked out and bloodied. Mala’s greenroom tent was empty when he went to look.