"Violet, come quickly child."

Violet raised her head from her pillow. Everything was dark. It took her a few unsteady breaths to remember she couldn't see. The fear nearly choked her, then Cook's voice came to her again.

"Come on child, you need to get dressed. We have to get you out of here."

She heard someone yelling in the distance. It was her mother.

Fear was a living thing.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Cook was helping her dress, but said nothing.

"Is she coming for me?"

The woman didn't respond. Instead she finished buttoning Violet's coat.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. "Where are we going?"

"We are not going anywhere lassie. But you need to get away. Far far away."

Suddenly the walls of her room fell away and she was in the forest. Running. She was falling over tree roots, cutting herself on sharp branches and stones as she ran. Behind her, her mother's voice pierced the night air.

"Come back here you rat!"

"Wake up, Violet!"

Violet woke to Sarah's concerned voice. She felt groggy, "I fell asleep?"

"Yes," Sarah agreed. "You were having that dream again."

Shaking the sleep from her head, Violet stood from the seat she had dozed in. "What time is it? I need to get ready!"

"Yes, get ready quickly." Sarah poked about the small changing room and broached a new topic. "So, what is going on between you and that gorgeous man?"  

"Nothing." Violet pulled down the dress she had worn for her visit to the Kourakins and slipped on her gypsy skirt. 

"Oh come on! You never tell me anything!" Sarah moaned, reaching out to help tighten the laces on the back of Violet's corset. "Move your hair."

Doing as she was asked, Violet pulled her long hair forward and began to braid it, "There is nothing to tell, really."

"Right," Sarah muttered as she gave a final tug on the ribbons before tying them.

"He brought me back here as a favour to Princess Angelica, there really is nothing else to say!" Violet knew Sarah was hoping to hear about some romantic interlude or a juicy affair, but that was not going to happen. Especially now that Patrick knew she was blind.

Not that he had said anything belittling, Violet admitted to herself. In fact, he had said nothing at all. Not in Angelica's house where Mikhail had made a fool of himself trying to put her at ease, nor during the ride to the circus. No, Patrick had said nothing and the ride had been ridiculously uncomfortable.

Which really was for the best since it turned out that he was a blood drinker! Violet still was not sure how she had missed the scent of blood on him during their first encounter, but this morning it had been all too apparent. The Seer had taught her much about blood drinkers, so she did not fear them. Though she knew them to be stronger and faster than humans, she knew their laws forbid them from hurting her kind unless they were threatened. And since she knew how to tell if a blood drinker was reading her mind, she wasn't worried about being caught off guard. 

Patrick was a blood drinker.

That fact should have been enough to quell her attraction to the man, but it didn't. She was still madly attracted to him, which was quite confusing. After all, she had always felt an antipathy towards blood drinkers before, simply because they were of the same race as Ismail.

"Fine, I'll believe you then," Sarah said as she spun Violet around. "The flowers across the bodice was the perfect touch, you look gorgeous." 

"The outfit looks gorgeous and that's thanks to you." Trying to take her mind off of Patrick, Violet smiled, "The dress you lent me this morning made as much of an impression as the last."

"Really?" Sarah jumped up and down and squealed, "Oh, I can't believe it, honest! It makes me really proud you know?"

"I know," Violet said, her hand reaching out for the younger girls. "You know I can not see it, but everyone tells me you are incredibly talented Sarah, you should be proud."

"Violet!" Graham's voice came from the other side of the closed wooden door, "You are on in a minute."

"I'll be right there," Violet called out as Sarah moved away from her.

"Here you go, your violin. And Violet... thank you for saying such nice things," Sarah said softly.

Like many at the Circus, Sarah had not had an easy upbringing. Her mother had died young and her father had found her a job mucking out stalls for Old Graham before disappearing out of her life. Despite her happy demeanour, the girl was desperate for affection and she deserved it. 

Perhaps, Violet thought, she could speak to Princess Angelica and see if she knew any modists who might require an aid. Although they had only met a dozen time or so since their encounter at the museum, the Princess had been most impressed by Sarah's creations and seemed like the type of person who would help if she could.

Violet would be loath to have Sarah leave the circus, but it would make the girl happy and she wasn't planning to stay indefinitely herself either. 

She would only stay as long as it took her to find Ismail.

After that, she would either be dead, in prison or on her way back to the Highlands.

With a quick goodbye, Violet left her changing room and walked to the heavy curtains of the stage  just as Graham announced her act. Ismail, the name rushed through her like it did before every performance. Could he be in the audience? Her hand went up to touch the ring that hung about her neck beneath her corset. Somehow she had to find him, but how?

The curtains opened, and she stepped forward into the applause, knowing the spotlight would follow her wake. The familiar scents of the circus rushed into her nose. She breathed deeply. There were more rich folk tonight than ever before, their combined perfume drifting like a fog in the closed tent. More smells surrounded her as she found her spot in the centre of the stage and the audience quietened: the sweet smell of candy was followed by ale and shoe polish and...gun powder? She caught the scent of the stuff and realised that someone must be carrying a gun. Now why would anyone bring a gun?

Pushing her unease aside, Violet picked up her bow and began to play. The music had a calming effect, but her attention strayed over and over to the man on the third row to her left. Why did he have that gun? He couldn't possibly mean to shoot someone, not here in the circus? She focused on him, pushing past dozens of competing smells before she could distinguish the sour odour that was his sweat, the mince pie on his breath and the spirits. Lots of spirits! God, he was drunk and had a gun!

Violet played on, unsure of what she should do. From some misbegotten instinct she moved left, closer to the danger. She had to do something, but what? If she yelled out and he did intend to shoot, he would do so immediately. If she could only tell Old Graham to send the men who worked backstage to restrain him, but wouldn't that spur him into action too? Damn it, she had to do something, but what? What...?

When her arm stopped moving the entire tent was cast into an eerie quiet. The audience was silent, likely surprised at the jarring end to the melody. Violet imagined that they were all watching her, waiting with confused expressions. 

She had to be mad to be bringing this upon herself. "I need a volunteer."

The sudden burst of sound that followed her request implied there were dozens of volunteers. Her fingers curled with discomfort at not knowing what was going on in front of her. They must be holding up their hands, she thought, but was his hand raised? Stupid, she completely crazy. 

"You, please," Violet pointed her bow at the man with the gun, "Sir, will you help me?"

She breathed slowly, concentrating to make sure the right man would stand up. The steady stream of spirits and gunpowder did not shift. The man wasn't moving! Then Violet heard the jibbing and the lewd comments. The crowd was pushing him on, goading him into helping her. Finally the smells shifted and the gunpowder drew closer. As the man made his way through the crowd, Violet took off her shoes, put down her violin and shook out her hair. 

Emilian, one of the older men at the gypsy camp, had taught her how to have what he called 'tricky hands'. Though performing was the main source of their camps income, there were some talented thieves among the gypsies who would steal supper for the troup if it couldn't be earned. Emilian had the swiftest tricky hands, and despite her blindness, was adamant that Violet learn at least the basics of the trade.

The drunk man was almost beside her, his gun in his left pocket. If she could dance around him with enough speed, her skirts and hair would help her swipe the weapon without him noticing.  

"Welcome sir, thank you for agreeing to help me." Violet's voice came out far calmer than she felt. "You won't need to do much. If you could just face the audience and stand still, that will be enough." Push the fear away. Look at this as a game, a simple game. 

"I don't think so, bitch." The ominous words came from the man just across from her.  Violet did not need to hear the stifled screams and gasps to know he had pulled out the gun and the weapon was now trained on her. Push the fear away, push the fear away.

"You, you are just like her! Playing with men with your beauty! Did you think you could fool me?" He took a step towards her, but movement from the audience had him shifting his focus, "Stay back! Stay back or I will shoot you all."

Violet's legs were threatening to give out, but she clenched her muscles and forced herself to remain calm. "I would never play with you, Sir."

"Liar!" He took another step closer, "You have no respect, just like that bitch!"

Pain burst across her face as the back of his hand connected with her cheek and sent her sprawling on the floor. Screams sounded from the seats, as she tried to lift herself with shaking arms. 

Memories pulled her to another time, another place, where her mother's hands were on her head, where the tavern owners boot was on her back, where his wife was dragging her by the hair, pulling and pulling until clumps gave way in her fists...and then she was back in the Circus, a drunkard with a gun looming over her. 

Violet had been beaten many times in her short life and had sworn long ago never to cringe or cry. Pushing her hair out of her face, she stood. If this man was going to shoot her, she would not cower before him. 

"You call her a bitch?" She stepped forward, smelling her way until she was right in front of him. The gun was resting on her collar bone, the audience was in a frenzy, but none of that mattered. Violet could feel his hot, foul breath between her eyes and wanted more than anything to show him he was nothing. That he did not scare her in the least. "You abused her, didn't you? You hit her, like you hit me." 

His silence answered her question and her anger boiled over. How dared he? How dared they? Those who were stronger, preying on the weak, inflicting violence and pain without so much as a thought!  He was no different from all the other inhuman people on this earth, no different from her mother. No different from Ismail.

"Does it make you feel strong to beat a defenceless woman? Do you feel brave with your pretty little gun? You sir, are pathetic!" 

A deathly silence fell over the circus after Violet's voice finished ringing through the tent. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the shot that would certainly come. Violet stiffened her back, waiting for the pain to pierce her chest...but it didn't come. 

For several long seconds nothing happened. Then there was a loud thud and the gun pulled away from her skin. Suddenly the audience was shouting again, but this time they were...cheering? 

"Get the bastard!" The shout broke through Violet's strange haze. She heard people rushing towards them, but she could not make sense of anything. Taking quick breaths she located the drunkard to her left; he was still close, but the scent of his gun was much lower. It was on the ground!

Survival instinct finally kicking in, she backed up and ran straight into a hard chest. A male scent enveloped her instantly; snow capped mountains and heather. 

Patrick.

"They are taking him away, it's over." His words, as clipped as they were, were meant to reassure her. All of a sudden Violet didn't feel so good.

"I'm a little dizzy."

Patrick picked her up before she could say more. "Carrying you is turning into a habit."

Even through her sudden exhaustion, Violet smiled at his angry tone of voice and leaned her head on his shoulder. His embrace was warm. Safe. 

He took her behind the curtains and to her changing room like he had done before. Unlike last time, however, he didn't set her down and she was glad for it. She wasn't sure if her legs would have carried her. Finding the chair in the corner of the room, Patrick sat with her on his lap.

Several peaceful moments went by before he spoke again. "You seem to attract a lot of trouble." 

The softly spoken words made Violet consider. "I did not used to. Things started going wrong when I..." 

"When you met me?" She heard the laughter in his voice and shrugged. Her exhaustion was slipping away, the shock of facing death had left her defenceless momentarily but she was recovering. Suddenly she remembered their last encounter. Patrick knew she was blind, he had probably carted her around like this because he saw her as an invalid.  Her jaw set in annoyance.

"I'm fine now,  let me up." She tried to move off of his lap, but he held her in place.

"Have you lost your mind woman?" the words came out as a growl. 

Violet sputtered,"I - "

"What did you think you were doing moving towards that gun?"

She could feel the barely checked anger in his body as she tried to speak: "I - "

"If you ever do anything so foolish again, I will shoot you myself!"

"I can take care of myself!" The words came out louder than she had expected and made her feel childish. She stopped moving, and took a deep breath to calm herself. It was the wrong thing to do. He smelled like heaven.

"I thank you for your kindness, but I'm no cowering ninny, I can take it from here."

His fingers on her cheek startled her. He was silent. Then he exhaled a long suffering breath.

"Cowering ninny? You are one of the bravest woman I've ever known, Violet. Too bloody brave."

Violet did not know what to say. He thought she was brave? But, she had thought...

"You don't have to say things like that. I know what most people think of little blind girls."

A burst of laughter came from the chest only inches away from her cheek only serving to increase Violet's confusion. 

"A woman who stands up to angry lions and drunk fools with guns can hardly be thought of as a little blind girl!"

Violet hated admitting to herself just how happy his words made her, but they did. And they only meant more because they were coming from him. But why, when he was a stranger to her, when she knew nothing about him. Except for his tendency to rescue her... and the way he made her feel.

"Do you really want me to let you up?" Her heart beat picked up at the heated tone, her fingers clenching reflexively on his shirt. Violet did not want to get up. But she did want to kiss him, she wanted it badly.

"God, I was so worried, are you...Oh!" Sarah came to a stop as she caught sight of the pair on the chair, "Well, I... this is so, I mean, it feels like..."

Violet blushed as she scrambled out of Patrick's lap. And the dratted man was chuckling behind her!  

"Déjà vu? The repeat of history?" Patrick asked Sarah innocently as he too stood.

"Ah, yes." Sarah said uncomfortably. "Well, I'll be going-" 

"No, Sarah don't..." Violet let her words trail off when Patrick burst into laughter. 

"Sarah, please stay." He said a moment later. "I have to leave and I would feel better if someone were here to take care of Violet." 

"Ah, of course," Sarah agreed. 

Violet would have told them she didn't need anyone to take care of her if she didn't think it would make her sound childish.

Without warning, Patrick took her hand and raised it to his lips. "Until we meet again," his breath was hot on her skin and then he was gone.

Violet stood motionless listening to his footsteps receding on the other side of the door when Sarah cleared her throat. 

"I thought you said there was nothing..."

"Sarah, please, not now."

"Alright, but if you want my opinion..."

"Sarah!"

"Alright, I'll be quiet."

"Thank you," Violet sighed. It had been a long day.