Tie in time.

________________

Dante Rossi

"Oi," I say, "who would you be?" I roll over and rest my head on my hands. "And why didja have to make me bump my head so hard?"

The girl, she's a girl, maybe fourteen or so, maybe Italian, and she says, "Move over. I'm hiding from somebody, so be quiet."

I raise my hands. "You might wanna find someother place to hide, miss."

She ignores me for a moment, listening. Then she turns back. "So, what's your name?" She's Italian all right. Can hear the accent, so she probably wasn't born here.

I look at her. "The fact that you're hiding in an old coach running from a creepy guy in a creepy circus, and from the look of you, you're not supposed to be here, and then you bump into a kid who the scary circus people threw in the old coach because he was trying to steal all their money, doesn't bother you? That don't bother you?"

"Well, a little bit, I guess." Brave girl. "So, how'd you get in here?"

"I just explained that. I was trying to steal all their money, 'cause Corey's people were already working the crowds, and then I got caught, and two of Corey's thugs were coming, then the circus people scared them off, and there were Billie and Willie, and the magicman with smoke eyes did something to them, and then the circus people tied me up and stuck me in here, so the could deal with me after the show was over." I shiver slightly. "Not looking forward to that. Wait! How'd you get in here?"

She tilts her head and pretends to think. "Let's see... I opened the door."

"They locked it!"

"No, it wasn't. By the way, I'm Keeva. I'd shake hands with you, but you're tied up."

"Cleaver?"

"No. Keeva."

"Couldja spell that?"

"c-a-o-i-m-h-e."

"Can I call you Cleaver?"

"No. What do I call you?"

"Dante. Dante Rossi. And no Danny, mind you. I got a pocketknife in my boot, so couldja please take it out and cut off the rope around my hands? Then we can shake, get out of here, I'll steal, you'll watch the circus, and we'll never see eachother again? Okay?"

Caoimhe looks at me. "Nope."

"What?"

"No. I am going to cut the rope off your hands, and in return, you are going to get me back to my house without me being seen. Do we have a deal?"

"Sure. Whatever." How'd this girl get the better end of me so quick? Better not tell her that it's not a very good idea to lead a thief straight to your home. Then I know I've got an easy mark, though usually and I'm not a breaker.
Breaker as in breaking and entering.

The way I'm stuffed under the seat, I can't reach the knife myself, but Caoimhe reaches it real easy and cuts the stuff off my hands, then I wriggle out from under the seat and cut off the rope around my ankles.

Just then, as I'm looking out the little window of the coach, the door flies open, knocking me down with it.

"Of all the things..." the ringmaster is saying. He stops short when he sees me, free, and Caoimhe.

I pick myself up and bow extravagantly. "Nice to meet you, sir, but I'll stick you faster then I stick pigs." I flash my knife.

Cole, Mason, Melly, and Lydia pop up behind him. "Dante?" Neria asks.

"How do you do?"

And then, of course, Alice with the sewing shears and starving boy come running up. Some of Corey's thugs are following them.

Oh my.

Caoimhe-

I found Dante rather queer, yet he seemed to know his way around and I was too nervous to walk around the circus alone.

Just after I had released him from his bonds, the door was flung open by a rather stout man – the ringmaster. Closely at his heels were four out of breath youths.

Dante greeted them all in a way, which implied that he truly didn’t care a bit about our predicament.

“Sir,” a stocky young man followed by identical looking hooligans addressed the ringmaster. “Why don'tcha just give the lad to us and we’ll be gone with 'im?”

The ringmaster nervously scratched his head and swallowed. “Boys, this matter does not have anything to do with you so I think it would be better if you all just left.”

The group stayed where they were.

A red-haired girl and a dead-looking boy joined the forming crowd. “Shall I tell Mr. Tannebaum?” the girl asked, brandishing a pair of pointed sheers in her hand.

The ringmaster didn’t answer right away. Taking this chance, Dante shoved his knife at the man.

“Ya see, Sir? I’ve gotta a knife so it’d be in your favor if you just took a step back.”

A sly smile began to slide across the man’s face. He took a gun from his pocket and shot a bullet into the air.

I fell onto the floor of the coach, surprised. Dante stayed standing, but seemed to lose some of his confidence.

“Now, you two come out or I’ll use another bullet.” I stood up and started to step forward to get out of the carriage. Dante held up a hand, telling me to stop.

“The carriage window,” he whispered

“What about it?”

“We’ll jump through it.”

“What?”

“Take my hand.”

“Wha--“ Before I could make sense of the situation, he had taken my hand and we sprang through the glass of the window.

Shards cut my bare skin and planted themselves in my hair. I squeezed Dante’s hand harder, preventing him from running away without me. When we had hit the ground, we took no time brushing off ourselves but kept running. Dante – after I had released him - slightly ahead of me.

“Don'tcha look back, ya here?” I nodded, though he couldn’t see me. Shots from behind drove me to run faster.

We were nearing an exit when I tripped on something hard and landed with my foot in a rusty nail.

I made an effort to stand up but it was quite hopeless. The injury hurt dreadfully.

“Dante!” I yelled.

He stopped and turned around. “C’mon! Ya can’t dawdle. We’ve gotta get outta here.”

“There’s something in my foot!”

“WHAT?”

“There’s a nail in my foot.” For a moment, it seemed as if he would leave me, yet after a little pause he started to saunter – his attitude towards the situation was admirably calm – to me.

“Fudge and Barley! You’re bleeding a mighty bit,” was his comment when he arrived. “We’ve got to pull it out.”

“Oh mio. Isn’t there another way?”

“It’s already too late.” Dante leaned back and pointed to the crowd running towards us.

“Mamma mia. We’re trapped.”

“Shouldn’t’ve made that deal with ya,” he muttered.

“Too late now.” I wondered why he didn’t just leave. I presumed that he still wanted that money.

The crowd of people had now reached us. The ringmaster now talking to another ominous man next to him.

“Here Monsieur, here they are.”  

I'm five foot six at 13, and my best frien, 15, is five foot nine. Tall as her 19 year old sister.

OOHHH... Can I join? (That's a ridiculous question because i'm making a profile.)

name: Emily Everstone

age: 11 1/2

description: (I'll get back to you on this.)

history: Her parents work all day so she at home with her nanny. Here's my part:

|Emily Everstone|

All my friends call me 'Emstone'. Not a very appealing nickname, but it works. This is my story. It goes like this:

"Come along, Emily. It's time for your walk." Oh bother. "Coming Nanny" *at the park*  "Come along Emily. Don't dawdle." That's when we saw it. A poster for 'Fossies & Company'. 

How's that for the start of a new part in a story? Now, I've got to do something else. I'm kind of getting bored of typing. 

Uh..hehe, *coughes* but what's, er, steampunk?

My inner Dante is grumpy. I don't know why. I'm kind of reviving my Nano novel now, so maybe Dante is jealous that his namesake is such a minor character in that story. Anyway, I posted before that. Olive? Melody? It's up to you to get Dante and Caoimhe out of the little mess, so Alice, Renault, and Nerie better start  coming up with some pret-ty good diversions.

I'll try to write as much as possible, but I have guests coming over in a few so...

//Alice Corker//

The Monsieur is a tall man with broad shoulders and expressionless, watchful face. The ringmaster is tiny compared to him.

"I believe the two of them tried to break into our tent," the ringmaster says smoothly. "Mr. Tannebaum thinks they have seen too much."

"They have seen too much?" the Monsieur mutters, his voice akin to the rumbling of a volcano. He takes a long breath then speaks.

"Take them to the Magician. He will deal with them."

"What about those two?" The ringmaster points at Renault and I. The Monsieur glances at us before nodding.

"Take them too." 

~Neria~

While Dante and the Italian girl are jumping through the window and the Frenchman is talking to Uncle, Mason, Colem, Melly, and I have started to fade into the shadows.  I hear Uncle telling the Frenchman that he's bringing Dante, the Italian girl, and the circus kids to the magician, I stifle a gasp.  That is not good.  Everyone knows the tales about that magician.  They will be reduced to mush in mere hours, I'll betcha.  "Um, Uncle Moore, the magician?" I ask, "I'll tell Grandmama where you are if you bring my friends to him."  He starts to look scared.  If I tell Grandmama where he is, he'll be sent to prison for armed burglary.  Rich families don't like each other much.

"Glory, child, you wouldn't," he whispers.  I smirk.  "What is this... unsavory... creature?" the Frenchman says slowly. 

"The lady you speak of is Neria Cornwel," Melly explains.  I gesture for her to be quiet.  She shouldn't be revealing who I am!  I'll probably never see her again.  The man raises his eyebrows.

"What's a rich girl doing with street scum?"

"We forced her to do it, sir.  We knew her uncle Moore would be here.  We were going to have her challenge her uncle if he wouldn't cooperate," Melly bluffs.

Dante goes to say something, but the girl stomps on his foot.  "Bean's bones!" he screams.  I notice blood trickling from a nail stuck in his foot.

"If you would allow us and your two performers here to return her home, we will return," Cole says.

The man smiles.  "A thief's promise is made to be broken.  No deal.  Miss Cornwel, though, may return home.  I do not wish to anger such an influential family."

"Monsieur," the redhead says, "if you would remember the money you held back from Renault's wages.  He agrees with me it should be changed into freedom for all of us.  We have it in writing it could be turned into anything."

"Freedom for them, for you... no magician, but you are still working for me," 'Monsieur' negotiates reluctantly.  He seems to be a man who knows the power of a contract.