The Circus of the Damned

The Circus of the Damned

by Cornelia Grey


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A Deal with a Devil Novel

Magician Gilbert Blake has spent his entire life conning drunkards in the seediest pubs in the darkest towns, careful to hide the true depths of his power. But when he spends a little too much time in Shadowsea and the infamous slumlord Count Reuben gets wind of his abilities, hiding within the Circus of the Damned may be Gilbert’s only chance at survival.

But there’s more to the Circus than meets the eye. Every time a performer dies, a new one must take his place, or the entire circus suffers the consequences. And while the handsome ringmaster Jesse isn’t one to coerce unwilling performers into giving up their souls to the devil, a recent death in their ranks makes Gilbert exactly what they need.

Yet the longer Gilbert stays with the Circus, the more danger he seems to bring them. Being with Jesse is more than Gilbert could have hoped for, but as Count Reuben’s men continue to search for Gilbert and the Circus loses another performer, they all face running out of time long before the Devil claims his due.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781626491663
Publisher: Riptide Publishing, LLC
Publication date: 10/31/2014
Series: Deal with a Devil , #2
Pages: 274
Sales rank: 1,232,426
Product dimensions: 5.25(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.62(d)

Read an Excerpt

The Circus of the Damned

Deal with a Devil Series

By Cornelia Grey, Danielle Poiesz

Riptide Publishing

Copyright © 2014 Cornelia Grey
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-62649-166-3


For the best part of three days, Gilbert Blake sat inside the dark, dank pub. The thin, dirty rain that drenched the dark brick walls of the city, its bowels of iron pipes and cramped alleys, and the pub's wooden sign hadn't stopped in all that time. The sign was purple—or it looked like it had been once upon a time—and missing so many letters it was impossible to guess what the pub's name had been. Gilbert hadn't cared; he'd just entered and stuck around.

The pub was a crammed underground hole without a single window, the atmosphere rank and suffocating. A narrow wooden door opened on steep iron stairs, encrusted with years' worth of mud and grease. Drunken patrons yelled and drank and lay passed out in corners, after wasting entire paychecks on dice and cards. In the sawdust-covered pit, bloodstained by a hundred fistfights, a fellow was turning the handle of a potbellied instrument that sounded like a choir of skinned cats.

"So, ready to pick a card, mate? My balls are shriveling up over here," Gilbert scoffed.

His blond hair and beard were a wild mess, and a tumbler of savage homemade vodka sat by his elbow. He was beyond drunk and about to land the hit that would keep him and Emilia fed for a month. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept or eaten, or even gotten up to take a piss, but he was sprawled like a king on his chair, cards in hand and a smirk firmly planted on his lips. A small crowd surrounded him, watching his every move. His opponent was sweating in a ripped shirt and vest, combing his fingers over and over through his long, brown beard.

Gilbert couldn't remember exactly when they had started that particular game. Could have been a couple of glasses ago, could have been five bottles. Emilia was asleep, nestled in his scarf, dead to the world, her little body curled in a warm, furry ball against his neck, and there was a considerable pile of cash stacked in the middle of the table. Bills and coins, a golden ring, some brightly colored currency from some country he didn't know, a lone ruby earring, and what looked suspiciously like a gold tooth that had been ripped out of somebody's jaw.

Gilbert waved a deck of fanned-out cards under the man's nose. He'd forgotten the fellow's name, or maybe hadn't even bothered to ask it. He chugged back the last of his vodka and decided to call him Bristlesprout.

With a suspicious glance and a grunt, Bristlesprout carefully selected a card and yanked it out, slapped it against the table, and covered it with a ham-sized hand while shooting threatening looks all around, as if daring the others to steal it from him.

"Anyone tries to help this wanker, I'm gonna break your fingers," he warned, looking at the ragtag crowd through bloodshot eyes. The faint of heart took a step back. Everyone else pushed even closer. "I know somebody's working with him."

Gilbert smiled and waved his hand over his glass, which swiftly filled back up. Everyone's eyes were on the glittering pile of coins, though, so only a skinny drunkard rubbed his eyes in disbelief, then went in search of a stiffer drink. He knew better than to call out the tall, muscular man with the seemingly magic powers.

Bristle had his reasons to be suspicious. Gilbert had already materialized in his own hand the cards that the man had hidden in his pocket, his beard, and most notably, the crack of his ass. Oh, he'd given the fellow some breathing room too. No gambler would bet against someone who always won. Winning every time wasn't the goal, and neither was impressing the bystanders. The goal was coaxing more and more cash out of the pockets of his adversaries, letting them win occasionally to push them to raise the stakes, then making them slowly drop out one by one with swift moves, apparently strokes of blind luck—until he was left with one poor bastard drunk enough and gullible enough to empty his pockets on the table. In this case, his new friend Bristlesprout.

Gilbert had purposefully botched the last two tricks, failing to guess the card that Bristle had creatively hidden in his underpants—it had been the three of spades, and Gilbert would do without that card from now on, thank you very much—and spectacularly embarrassing himself when trying to make a coin disappear in his palm and instead causing a deluge of quarters to fall from his cuff. That one had brought a roar of laughter from the crowd, convincing everyone that the failed magician was by now too drunk for his own good and was just about ready to be plucked like a chicken.

Bristlesprout had fallen for it like a charm. Seeing his chance, he'd pushed all his winnings forward, even producing that golden tooth to add to the considerable pile. Gilbert had made a big scene of rummaging in the pockets of his black leather jacket, sighing and complaining and commiserating his bad luck, looking like he could barely scrape together the amount.

Oh, he could look like a miserable loser when he wanted to. It was a remarkable talent.

"Now, take this." Gilbert snapped his fingers under the table, and a black crayon materialized out of thin air. Then he handed it to Bristlesprout. "Write something on the card. Or draw, I don't care. You can turn it over, 'tis not a guessing game this time."

Shooting him a dark glance, Bristle turned the card over—it was the queen of hearts—and snatched the crayon from Gilbert's hand. "The fuck you playing at, crook?" He grunted. "I wanna know exactly what stupid trick you're gonna botch this time. I don't want no fucking cheating at my table, understand?"

A loud screech came from the pit, attracting everyone's attention. The disheveled musician was being carried away by the neck by an impressively large man wearing an expensive-looking black suit with a bright-purple band around one arm. The musician's wooden instrument lay abandoned on the ground. As everyone watched in silence, four other giant men crossed the room, shooting threatening glances at the patrons while surrounding a much shorter, older fellow. This one wore a bright-purple suit and top hat that were rather insulting to the eye.

God damn it. Gilbert followed the man with his gaze, a heavy feeling sinking in his stomach. This was the last thing he needed: Count Reuben himself, owner of the dump and pretty much every other shithole in town. The man controlled a good half of Shadowsea's less-than-legal activities and was never seen without his personal guard, a cohort of murderers and henchmen whose favorite activity was stomping people to a pulp and tossing them in the river.

Gilbert examined them in mild apprehension as the pub's staff stumbled over themselves, running around to set out a fancy dining table for Reuben in the bloodstained pit. His guards' expensive suits were ill fit to their bodies, bulging with muscles, and telltale lumps revealed a knife here, a baton there. Their purple armbands and hatbands now dotted the room.

Gilbert downed his vodka. Damn. He hadn't planned on having to deal with so many guards. They were already gravitating toward the table—the amount of money strewn over it wouldn't escape them even in the dark. Hell, they could probably smell it. Oh, Reuben would be pissed that someone was gambling in his den without giving him a cut.

But Gilbert couldn't leave; he couldn't give up now. Not after he'd worked so hard, not when he was this close ...

No. He had to finish this and then just get out. Fast.

He straightened his broad, muscular shoulders and leaned back into the chair with a sharp smile. "Where were we? Oh, right, my friend, our pleasant game. Now, you're going to mark that card. Anything you want. Then you're going to hide it, destroy it, dispatch it overseas via carrier pigeon, I don't fucking care. And I—" He brought his hand to his chest in a theatrical gesture. "—I, the great Gilbert Blake, will bring it back and materialize it in front of your very eyes."

The crowd murmured with comments and a few derisive snorts here and there. Gilbert had discovered that his boasting speeches made folks see him as an even bigger loser, rather than impressing them. That was fine by him. He wasn't there to preserve dignity or gain respect; it was cold, hard cash he was after.

Bristlesprout thought it over for a moment. "All right. But on one condition," he finally said, his eyes gleaming with glee. "I want your hands flat on the table the entire time. For everyone to see. Just wanna make sure you're not copying my stuff on another of your shitty cards."

Gilbert swallowed a mocking grin and carefully schooled his features to give off a hint of fear and nervousness, as if his trick had been spoiled. "But—"

"I'm not finished," Bristle interrupted. "I want everyone on your side of the table to take a step back. Or three. I don't want anyone near you, nobody who can slip you a card or write on it for you or some shit. I want the fucking desert around you, you got it?"

"B-but I ..." Gilbert stammered, looking around to gather sympathy from the spectators, eyes skimming over a dozen purple spots at least. Really, he thought smugly, I should have taken to the stage, wooed crowds in theaters all over the country. It was sheer talent, that's what it was. "I didn't say that. Surely, a magician can't be asked to ..."

"Well, if you want to back out ..." Bristlesprout spread his arms to embrace the pile of bills and coins on the table. "Of course, that means the jackpot goes to me. But if that's what you want ... I'm going to have to take all this money, then."

Oh, hell yes. He'd fallen for it so hard that Gilbert could have gotten him to bet his fucking balls, too. Time to make his final move and crush him.

Gilbert swallowed, then looked longingly at the money. Emilia stirred against his neck, sniffling, and her long whiskers tickled his skin. "I guess that's fine." Reluctantly, he brought his hands down on the table. "The hands thing, I mean. And the people. Looks like I don't have a choice, do I?"

Under Bristlesprout's severe gaze, everyone on Gilbert's side shuffled back, whispering and pushing and elbowing each other. Only the men in purple didn't budge, but they didn't come closer, either. Bristle smiled then, like a cat that'd found an unattended bird's nest and was sharpening his claws for the buffet of the year. He didn't deign to respond, and he bent his head and started drawing something on the card with great care, the tip of his tongue poking out from his mouth. When he was done, he proudly lifted the card and turned it left and right to show everyone a crude rendition of a cock and a pair of oversized balls pointed at the mouth of the poor queen of hearts.

"That's ... quite the piece of art." Gilbert was about to slap his own forehead in utter despair for the human race, then remembered himself and left his hands lying on the table. "Now make the card disappear."

"Oh, I intend to," Bristlesprout assured him, smug smile still firmly in place.

And he really made an effort. He ripped the card in two, then four. He dug in his pockets and produced a gnarled box of matches and lit one after a couple of attempts. As the stench of sulfur hovered over the table, Bristle carefully selected two card pieces and held them over the flame, watching as they blackened and curled up and finally turned to ash, slowly consumed by the fire. He let the border go with a muffled curse as the flame brushed his fingertips, and the final bits turned to ash on the table. Once that was done, he brushed away the ashes, satisfied, and turned his attention to the other two pieces.

Gilbert saw the moment the idea struck the man. Looking, if possible, even smugger than before, Bristlesprout ripped what was left of the card to minute shreds, then shoved the pieces in his mouth. He grabbed his glass, an inch of cheap rum at the bottom, and tossed it all back, swallowing in one gulp. He made a big show of smacking his lips, then burped loudly and settled back in his chair.

"Can't wait to see how you're gonna get that back, magician." He curled his lips to tongue at his not-very-clean teeth. He dug a thick, dirty knife out of his belt and picked his teeth with it, removing one single shred of spit-soaked card. "There, I'm gonna help you out. You can have this," he said, flicking the sodden piece at Gilbert.

The wet bit of card stuck to his cheek. People laughed, Bristlesprout louder than anyone.

Something went dark in Gilbert's mind, as though a shutter was abruptly slammed down. Oh, he was a jolly fellow for the most part, but his temper was a little ... volatile. People who had known him for a while learned that soon enough, learned to recognize when the thunderstorm was rumbling in and flee. But it had been a long, long time since he'd stuck around long enough for someone to get to know him.

So nobody noticed the dark clouds gathering behind his brow, nobody saw how his shoulders stiffened and his strong arms tensed, how his hands turned to claws where they rested on the table. Only Emilia stirred against his neck, not quite waking up, but her light mouse sleep disturbed nonetheless. That little brown mouse had been his only faithful companion for years and had saved his life more than a few times. She knew him. Even asleep, she could tell he was getting worked up.

"You seem determined to make my life difficult," Gilbert said, not quite able to contain the cruel curl of his lip. Bristle didn't even notice. He was already celebrating, busy trying to calculate how much he'd just won and eyeing ladies in the crowd that might have been impressed by his wit. "You had a couple of pretty good ideas there."

And they really had been good ideas. Any third-rate illusionist would be utterly screwed. Without an accomplice to slip him a card with a copy of the dick Bristlesprout had so artistically drawn, no sleight of hand would bring back the original card, so utterly and disgustingly destroyed.

Of course, things were a hell of a lot different when you were playing against an actual magician.

Very slowly, Gilbert lifted his hand, turning it left and right to show everyone it was empty, fingers spread and sleeve pulled back to reveal his wrist, his forearm. Then he slapped the hand down on the tabletop.

He stared at it and focused. His palm grew warm and, under it, he started to feel a hard, smooth surface, very different from the rough, splintery wooden table. Gilbert felt the surface grow and stretch and, as his eyes bore into the back of his hand, he could almost see it—the queen of hearts growing under his palm, just as he pictured it in his mind, down to the last detail, to the hastily scrawled penis.

Then he abruptly lifted his hand, and everyone around the table shouted.

He leaned peacefully back into his chair, letting the smug grin return to his lips, and nonchalantly lifted his hand to pick away the bit of chewed card stuck to his cheek. With his fingertip, he placed it on the lower-right corner of the newly formed card, where he'd left a tiny bit missing. He liked things done well.

People were leaning close and squabbling over the card, ripping it from one another's hands, talking and yelling. A toothless man tried to gnaw on the card with his bare gums. The men in purple were exchanging meaningful glances across the room, and Gilbert knew his time was running out. He had to wrap things up and take his leave.

"How'd he do it? Man, how the fuck did he do it?"

"No, I can't believe it. Lemme touch it. Hey, stop hogging—"

"The fucking devil's helping him. No other way. The devil himself, I tell you ..."

The only person perfectly quiet in the midst of all the excitement was Bristlesprout himself. He had gone very pale and was sitting very still, hands limp on the table, looking at the smears of ash with a somewhat-dazed air. He lifted his gaze to the card and, as a tattooed lady waved it around, snatched it from her hand and peered at it closely.

Gilbert leaned forward and sunk both hands into the pile of money. He'd been waiting long enough to tuck in. Let Bristle think about it all he pleased.

Oh, that felt good, holding the cold coins and crumpled bills between his fingers. It would keep them fed for a while, him and Emilia. Might even be enough to splurge and buy passage on one of the underground trains toward the coast, to someplace warmer. He would travel in style for once instead of screwing up his spine hobbling along on a goat cart. And it was time to blow this dump of a town. It was burned, now, anyway. Rumors spread fast, and no one else would play against him after tonight.


Excerpted from The Circus of the Damned by Cornelia Grey, Danielle Poiesz. Copyright © 2014 Cornelia Grey. Excerpted by permission of Riptide Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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The Circus of the Damned 4.7 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 3 reviews.
Henns More than 1 year ago
I was overly excited about The Circus of the Damned from the moment I stumbled upon it. I mean, deals with the devil, damned souls and circus, mysteries, romance and did I say deals with the devil? I was sold right away and I couldn't have been more happy to receive a review copy. What's best, the book didn't disappoint me at all. The Circus of the Damned was better than I expected and I had really high expectations. There was a circus full of freaks (and I'm using the word freaks with all the love because they were all amazing in their own way) who were more or less damned, and there was deals with the devil. There also was some really interesting and unique elements and plotlines but I won't say anything more specific about them so I won't spoil anyone. The story was full of fantasy elements that I've been dying to read but not seen on any books for a while. Grey did amazing job and the writing was very fluent and flowing, and once I started reading I was unable to stop. And the characters. Oh boy, did I love them. Gilbert was intriguing: witty, smart and yeah, always in trouble because he was quite impulsive. He grew up on streets and he was wise like that, and what even more amazing, compassionate. And stubborn, he truly was stubborn and didn't give up easily. Besides Gilbert, Jesse was one of my favourite. He was sweet on his own way but he was also smart, caring and while he had done stupid things in the past, he tried to do the right thing. He was such a mystery in the beginning and I loved to learn about his past bit by bit. There was also the devil, the evil Count Reuben and all the amazing circus people. I did hope we'd learn even more about the circus people than we did but that would have needed a whole new book, so I'm not counting it as a fault. There was a lot information about everyone of the circus people and some were more on display than others. The Circus of the Damned had it all: plot, great characters and flowing writing. There was action as well as romance, drama and mystery, and yes, I loved it all. Such a wonderful story and I highly recommend this book to everyone who's interested in fantasy, circus and/or deals with the devil. I will definitely read this again in the future!
kirstyviz More than 1 year ago
"If you never believe anything again in your life, believe this: if you join, you will remain with the circus until the day you die, and beyond that . . .Your soul will be damned for all eternity. There is no way out." The Circus of the Damned is one of the most original stories I read during 2014. Cornelia Grey creates a fantastical world, but there are echoes of Victorian society in which 'freak' shows were a regular occurrence. Gilbert Blake is arrogant, selfish and a cheat, but most importantly, a true magician, We are introduced to him on the night he conjures a hen out of a gambler's mouth and he is chased from the inn by the authority of Shadowsea, During his escape he runs into the path of Jesse, the ringmaster of the Circus and in Gilbert's desperation he agrees to join the troupe. However, Gilbert fails to understand Jesse's warning and attempts to escape his new home on many occasions, but on falling asleep, he always wakes up in his circus caravan. Finally, Gilbert accepts his life as a performer, discovering more about the handsome Jesse and the circumstances in which the circus was formed. Initially, the reader thinks Jesse is the opposite of Gilbert. Jesse is protective of his friends, loyal, caring and a leader. Yet as we learn more about the circus we realise that Jesse's selfishness and greed are keeping everyone captive. As the relationship between Jesse and Gilbert develops we see a change in them both. Gilbert's love for the ringmaster makes him realise that he can be a part of a family, however disjointed, and Gilbert's mask of arrogance slips away. His transformation is not completely evident until the conclusion of the novel, which is an emotional moment for us all. Whilst the group of 'freaks' attempt to keep the Circus of the Damned going, they realise the danger they are in from the self-appointed leader of Shadowsea. From this, Cornelia Grey is able to build a tense situation in which we fear for those characters who have touched our hearts. The Circus of the Damned is more compelling because of the uncertainty, romance and wonderful descriptions by the author. This is one story I could quite happily read a sequel to and think this will appeal to a variety of readers. I received this as a complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.
histgirl More than 1 year ago
The Circus of the Damned is a visual spectacle to behold. Cornelia Grey mixes Steampunk, Magic, a bit of dark paranormal and some m/m romance into an interesting storyline that left me questioning whether it wouldn’t be so bad to sign my soul over to a handsome devil named Farfarello and join the Circus of the Damned. Gilbert Blake is a talented magician but his illusions are much more than simple parlor tricks. His ability is based on real magic and that ability makes him an outcast, a freak amongst normal humans but Gilbert refuses to acknowledge that he too is a freak. He tries to hide the truth of his nature by using his magic carefully, but his days of conning drunkards with magic tricks for money eventually catches up with him. A powerful crime boss named Rueben has his eyes set on Gilbert and Gilbert has no idea what he’s done to get Rueben’s attention. All he knows is that he needs to hide and the only place offering up sanctuary is a Circus full of freaks whom insist he must sign his soul over to the devil if they are to help him.  Gilbert finds himself trapped in a confusing world inhabited by an array of colorful characters. There’s a creepy evil clown, an octopus with impeccable manners, a set of precocious conjoined twin girls, a dwarf who can create the most amazing contraptions, a mechanical elephant who wears a Top hat, a grumpy but sweet bear, a strong woman with a heart of gold and many other strange individuals. The leader of these colorful freaks is the Ringmaster Jesse. A mysterious man with dazzling green eyes whom Gilbert finds himself drawn to. The sexual tension between Gilbert and Jesse is undeniable and the two are hot together!  What I liked most about the story was how Gilbert found himself at the Circus. Before the Circus he was unsure of himself and he refused to acknowledge that he was different from normal people but as he spent more time at the Circus he developed a connection to the other members and with that connection he became more confident himself. The term freak no longer scared him and he proudly adopted it along with his new family of circus freaks.  Circus of the Damned is a fast paced and exciting story with action, romance and mystery. The descriptions had my mind reeling with the use of colorful and bigger than life visuals from the creepy caravans to the bad guys swathed in purple ribbons. I enjoyed every moment of the world Cornelia created and I look forward to reading more stories from the Deal with the a Devil Series.  Copy provided for review. Reviewed by Joy for Crystal's Many Reviewers