I never saw her again, my Nana. Maybe because Sang was a very big world or maybe because she’d seen something in her glance that she didn’t share, something that told her to stay away, even though I hadn’t really meant it. Perhaps she was tied to the witch’s underground lair, or maybe she took up Hepzibah’s wagon and simply gave us a wide berth. It hurt my heart, but so it goes. I’d given her the best gift I had: more years of improved life, and with a new lover, no less. And she’d given me the best thing she could, I supposed: a reason to get bludded and claim my own reinvigorated youth and, with it, the chance to bear children, which was my heart’s dearest wish. She looked too young to be a great-grandmother, anyway.
For the most part, we were immune to tragedy. Our little family flourished, and so did our big one. We found a new strong man—or, technically, a strong woman. The daimons transferred fluidly between our caravan and Demi’s cabaret, and my glancing ability kept any riffraff away, as we never took on any new carnivalleros until I’d touched their skin and determined if they meant us harm. Blaise became as much a part of our lives as Demi had been, acting as Criminy’s second in command and showing an especially deft hand at finding freaks and building new acts.
The show, as they say, went on.
Epilogue
TEN YEARS LATER
Criminy and I waited, hand in hand, watching blocky shapes approach across the moor from London. Demi’s trio of carriages disgorged a riot of color and excitement: a handful of young daimon girls, Ahnastasia and Casper, Frannie and Thom and their brood of redheads, Mel and Bea and Reve, and all our old friends.
Frannie had a basket over her arm and delivered it to me with a sweet smile. It was a mutt much like the one I’d coveted in her shop but never returned to adopt, thanks to my pregnancy. The pup was a wiggling ball of fuzzy curls and licking tongue, and the children were instantly smitten. As I hugged her and thanked her a thousand times, I couldn’t help noticing how she’d aged, the crow’s-feet that were really laugh lines, the softness of her chin and figure. We each had three children, but she was thirty and looked forty, and I was forty-two and looked twenty.
Why had I ever wanted to be human?
A clattering drew my attention to a fight for the ages: three wee kilted warriors, three ink-haired vampire children, Jacinda and Marco’s two sloe-eyed Lotharios, Imogen and Henry’s spitfire of a daughter, and one green lizard girl in a pinafore of sealskin, Eblick’s daughter Cenna, all attacking one another with sticks for swords.
“They wear nothing under their kilts,” Criminy called to his progeny. “Aim upward.”
“Lure the wee smug monsters with your skin, and then smack ’em in the snoots,” Thom encouraged, and his lads all pulled back their sleeves and began to torment my babies.
Cenna looked at Eblick, who stood always aloof, quiet and watchful. “You’ve a tail, m’lady,” he murmured with a fanged grin. “Use it well.” Cenna smiled back and charged into the fray.
Demi was finally pregnant with her first, and Vale hovered around her, fiercely protective, just as Criminy had been of me. As soon as they’d arrived, he’d helped her out of the carriage and onto an ottoman he’d brought from the cabaret. She sat there, huge and happy, finally able to enjoy a night of entertainment that she didn’t have to supervise. Casper and Ahna stood near her, watching the battle and looking wistful; their young twins and son were back in Freesia with Uncle Alexi and Aunt Keen and a dozen tutors, learning to rule the world of ice and blood that they would one day inherit.
That night, the caravan was closed to outsiders as a special treat. Since only friends were allowed, the carnivalleros took extra risks and put on a show unlike anything I’d seen in my entire time with Criminy’s Clockwork Caravan. The lights were somehow brighter, the music more jolly, each act more colorful and death-defying than the last. The children ran to and fro in groups of their own choosing, mixing up different species and dropping bits of candy fluff, blood slush, and sardines.
When I’d first arrived, the caravan had been full of bad seeds and dangerous folk, but under the last ten years of Criminy’s reign, we’d been lucky enough to adopt orphans, outsiders, and wastrels with good hearts. Emerlie the tightrope walker had settled down with, of all people, Vil, who was actually rather handsome when you got him out of his goggles and leathers. Charlie Dregs had gotten over his unrequited love for the little idiot and had fallen for a quiet but sweet daimon girl from Demi’s cabaret, and Lexi would soon surprise us all with a Bludman-daimon hybrid. Veruca the sword swallower was ageless and changeless, keeping to herself and disappearing a few times a year to ports unknown . . . and I was sure I’d recently seen her casting glances at Louise, our strong woman. Cherie, once half of a contortionist duo with Demi, had found love with a quiet poet in the city, whom she had met while helping Frannie with her crows in the pet shop. In short, almost everyone I cared about had found someone to love, and everyone’s glances had mostly come true.