Den of Stars. Christopher Byford

family, acquaintances … He’ll know them and he’ll exploit them. They’ll be broken. Then, finally, you’ll be left to rot as an example to others.’

       She suddenly blinked in horror, as if quite surprised at her candid confession, a mixture of the alcohol and sleep deprivation loosening her lips.

       ‘It’s okay,’ Franco stated, swigging again and feeling the light breeze that wafted through the window. ‘We’ve all done things we regret. We change. You’ve changed, clearly. I figure there’s a difference between who a person was and who they are in the present if they desire to change. You’re not that person now, are you?’

      * * *

       ‘Not at all.’ Her eyes scrunched to a close. She was unsure whether this was even the truth. But it sounded good. It sounded like what needed to be said at this time.

       ‘There you go then.’

       Misu paused before speaking what was next on her mind, wondering if it overstepped the mark. She did so anyway, seeing as they had come this far. What was the worst that could happen?

       ‘Did the thought ever go through your head – and I’m not suggesting anything; I’m just discussing the possibility … You have the train, some money. You don’t have to do the show is what I’m getting at. You could go off and live your life away from the limelight. You have an entirely new one to live, one you’ve earned, free from people like Wilheim doing the things that people like him do. Sometimes I struggle to understand why you would want to jeopardize that. Did you ever consider cashing in this second chance? Leaving all this behind?’

       Franco narrowed his eyes and drank again, heavily. ‘Let me answer your question with a question,’ he replied, wagging the bottle. ‘After what happened, why are you still here, with me, aboard this here train? The way I see it you have an opportunity yourself yet you’re squandering it with me. Explain that one.’ He took the bottle to his lips once more.

       Misu clasped her hands together in thought. ‘I guess … No, I mean, I …’ She struggled with forming the reason and instead fell on the only words that made any sort of honest sense. ‘I felt compelled. That’s the only way I can describe it.’

       More accurately, she sought redemption. She was committed to make amends for the wrongs that her treachery had caused. To the girls. To the train. To him.

       Not that she could say that of course. Pride made sure of that.

       ‘There you go.’ Franco placed the bottle down. ‘I feel compelled too. I don’t question why I’m drawn to this lifestyle. I don’t spend hours analysing it for some grand revelation that will make my life all the more complete. I am compelled, as are you.’

       That was all that was said on the matter.

       Misu subconsciously twirled her dyed blonde hair around a finger, mulling over the predicament. The Morning Star had to be considerably different. What they did previously was unprecedented, which made things all the more difficult.

       ‘So what is it that we actually need? Has all this thinking helped you come to a conclusion yet?’

       ‘We need to be bigger and better,’ Franco confirmed, offering to refill her glass, though she declined by covering it with a hand. In response he took a mouthful from the bottle itself in lieu of a glass. ‘We need to up the ante in every sense. We become unique enough that nobody makes the connection between the Star and the Den. We pride ourselves on our show. Let’s give them the biggest one the Sand Sea has ever known. Bigger fireworks, better performances by those we hire, an occasion to assault the senses! Right now, though, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something lacking. Something that punctuates the spectacle. We need … we need …’

       A fox and its cubs yelped noisily through the bush, their calls totally alien to the pair, who watched them slink through the foliage, orange brush strokes upon a green canvas. The mother fox stared with haunted glowing spheres before continuing onward to their destination.

       Misu snatched away the notepad feverishly, scrawling onto a page with the pen before tearing it out roughly.

       ‘Stay with me here,’ she excitedly exclaimed. She poked holes through in two points, scribbled shapes with the pen and held it level with Franco’s face so it covered the top half. When convinced, she turned it around for him to take. Immediately his face lit up with delight. It had crudely drawn ears and a nose but despite the lack of artistic talent, it clearly resembled a fox.

       Masks.

       To secure their safety and create mystique they would wear masks.

      * * *

      ‘You know, I always wondered how that came about,’ Corinne declared.

      ‘You never thought of asking?’ Misu watched the streaks of water on the glass shift in direction as the Morning Star took a corner.

      ‘I felt there was no point. What you say goes. Or what he says goes more accurately – you know what I’m getting at. I’ve learnt never to question the boss.’

      ‘You learnt never to question Franco. I’m not him.’

      ‘You have his mantle though.’

      Quickly, Misu changed the subject, turning away from the windows as a prolonged fork of lightning reflected her appearance back to herself for far longer than was comfortable.

      ‘We have a day before we pull in to our next event. Are all the preparations made?’

      ‘The call-aheads have affixed posters and energetically spread rumours on our behalf. Apparently people are very receptive to our arrival.’

      Misu popped a brow. Whenever a destination was set, she would send word ahead that anybody who would put up their promotional material and fan the excitement would be reimbursed in coin.

      ‘Receptive? Really?’

      ‘Their word.’

      ‘They’re mistaken if they believe that using big words to label their work will shake a bonus out of me.’ Misu flicked through the papers, withdrawing a couple of sheets of calculations.

      ‘How are we when it comes to finances?’ Corinne asked.

      ‘Good. Surprisingly good actually. Better than the Gambler’s Den at least, so we’re already marks up on that front. Apparently, from what I’m told, people adore the mystique of our disguises. They’re more magical.’

      ‘We don’t do magic. Nothing of the sort.’

      ‘No, but let them believe what they want. It makes the punters more …’ She clicked her fingers, attempting to remember the specific word.

      ‘Receptive?’ Corinne offered.

      ‘Yes. That.’

      ‘I suppose I should have a talk with the others about tomorrow.’ Corinne lifted herself from her seat with a hearty grunt. It would have been a fine place to waste the next couple of hours but duty called. ‘Is there anything you need me to discuss on your behalf?’

      There was plenty. Katerina needed to ensure the bar didn’t run out of hot spirits being that it was a trend out this way to light their shots on fire before downing them. Colette had been slightly missing her cues on the 9 p.m. performance – just enough to be noticeable. Some of those serving drinks needed to cosy up to the more inebriated patrons as they tended to tip better. But most importantly, Misu wanted everybody to stay away from Car Six for the evening like their lives depended on it.

       Because it did.

      ‘No. I leave it in your capable hands,’ she lied,