"E Allora my boy how do you like our show?" Her black eyes fixed on him. Gregory turned around, looking straight into her black-rimmed, eyes-wrinkled face with her dramatically painted red lips and was glad he didn’t have to lie with a forced hymn of praise. "I am completely thrilled. It feels like a fantasy land, just fantastic." She looked pleased patting him on the shoulder. "Just wait until you see my two little angels and our illusionist Keanu. He has shamanic roots you ain’t seen nothing yet. No one exceeds his performance. How do they say in your language? Oh yes, it is jaw-dropping, believe me."
"Gregory winced when he heard the words shamanic roots. Keeping a wry smile on his face, he went back to his seat. A sense of anticipation tingled within. Who the hell might that illusionist be? He hoped that he was not another doppelganger of any of the Vultures. Or else he would leave the tent screaming, that much was clear. To his relief, a clown appeared after the break instead of a feared doppelganger. Luck had it that apparently he chose him of all people for his tricks and jokes. Clowns gave Gregory the creeps since his early childhood. It probably had something to do with the fact that he once sneaked into the living room at a tender age, and had seen a part of the movie adaptation of Stephen King’s book, IT. Since then, he had avoided clowns whenever he saw one. He knew that it was completely ridiculous, and this one in front of him had neither a red nose nor sharp teeth. Still, he felt uncomfortable. The white-faced clown with the battered black hat, full dressed in black, did all sorts of magic tricks and when all of a sudden Gregory’s phone disappeared and reappeared looking slightly different, he felt more than just uneasy.
Nevertheless, he could hardly make a big fuss in front of all the people. He just stared grimly at the clown muttering che-cazzo" which wasn’t exactly decent Italian language. When he suddenly realized that, officially he was not to speak Italian at all. The clown looked at him lurking as if he expected him to do something particular.
When the showpiece was finally over, and he moved on, Gregory sank exhausted back in his seat. While he was still mulling over how he could get back his phone because he needed that damn phone to call Leyla as soon as he would get a new SIM card. The lights went out again, and the Circus ring flooded with blue light, and four warriors stood in four different directions of the ring clearly symbolizing the elements. Each of the warriors held a vertical tissue in his hands matching the color of his element. The silk tissues were attached in the middle of the ring, where a stage had been erected in the meantime. With headlights directed to the taut silk tissues gleaming blue, red, green, and golden.
Two figures appeared on stage in smooth movements. Antony and Valentina stepped on stage. They probably had their big show act now. Both wore daring costumes. Skin tight cat suits, full body suits with hoods that shone like flames in the darkness and the blue light. They both took off the hoods and started to wind themselves synchronously in two of the silk tissues. An emotionally charged Italian song filled the air. The crazy sado-maso loving Signora had not been exaggerating. The two angels rapidly soared through the air in a sea of colors created by the integrated silk tissues swirling like flames. They were even devilishly good and the song’s lyrics about a "Guerriero" which meant - Warrior - matched their performance perfectly. They presented some daredevil performance and at the end, they went up in flames and simply disappeared into the darkness under the thunderous applause of the crowd. Gregory’s jaw dropped, this time, no kidding.
He barely recovered from the fantastic performance, when a warrior rose in front of him. His face and chest painted to go off to war. Gregory stared at him spellbound. He looked so real that he expected him to point an arrow at him at any moment. Like a scene from a fantasy movie, like a statue he stood there. Then he walked to a platform in the middle of the ring with a glowing stick. His muscular torso naked, he was wearing a tattoo with a falcon across his chest. Heavily his chest rose and fell as if he were out of breath. The red-gold stone amulet around his neck shone in the spotlight. He wore beige Pants white fringes. His blue-black hair shone like the plumage of a raven braided into a long braid. On his forehead, he wore a leather headband. His features were bold and tough. He stood motionless on the platform, his palms pressed against each other. His eyes closed, colored lights swirled around him.
An ecstatic drumbeat sounded. He opened his eyes and his eyes fell straight on Gregory. The iris of his eyes appeared red, impossible. It must have been a trick of the light. Gregory shuddered, and wished he could get up and run away, but he couldn't do that. He was the savior and not some coward. He squared his shoulders forcing himself to stare back into the red eyes of the shamanic magician, red no doubt about it.
Then, it hit him like a Deja vu, like some experience from another time in space, maybe in another life. If something like that even existed. No, he didn't believe in all that esoteric crap. He was a realistic person with both feet on the ground he used to think so. But, if he were honest the whole stuff about the elements, being the savior all belonged to the same crap. He hadn’t believed in it before and exactly this attitude had gotten him into a real mess. Maybe it was time to open up to very eerie supernatural stuff and broaden his horizon. After all this show was nothing but a perfect performance, or wasn’t it?
The Magician
Gregory strolled absent-minded around the entrance when the show was over. He had no idea what they expected of him or where he should go and decided to wait for the Signora. Gregory sat on a red wooden bench near the entrance waiting patiently. In his head, the performances passed through once more. It had been for sure one hell of an impressive partly even scary, show. Especially this warrior guy, the so-called magician, was still on his mind.
He paid no attention to his surroundings, staring out to the sea. He had to catch that clown because he urgently needed his phone back. It was probable that Leyla was worried sick by now. As he did not have the chance to contact her telling her that, he was fine. Suddenly someone was standing in front of him. He looked up straight into the dark eyes of the magician. He smiled pleasantly at him, revealing his magnificent white teeth. "Well, so did you like the show?" Gregory nodded in surprise that the announced shaman spoke with a strong British accent "impressive, you are British?" He asked puzzled. "Let's, say I spent a long time of my life in the United Kingdom," they shook hands.
"I'm Keanu." "Like the actor?" "Like the guy with the Indian roots, making money looking mysterious," he laughed, amused. "Come on. I will take you to Giacomo." Without waiting for his answer, he turned around and walked away. Gregory followed him, and he was curious about who this Giacomo might be. He knew almost as good as nothing about the man. His step-grandfather Bernard Johnson, who was at the same time Leyla's grandfather, which was in and of itself a curious coincidence, knew him from before. Bernard Johnson was a retired lawyer and had always had connections to Italy in the past. No one knew much about his friendship with the assumed Artist Giacomo. Gregory always thought Giacomo was a painter, but as it looked, he was more into the Circus business.
Keanu opened the door to one of the trailers, and Gregory followed him. The interior of the trailer was larger than one would have expected from the outside. In the back, an expensive looking desk in polished mahogany wood. Behind the desk, an elderly southern looking man was sitting. He wore his lush silver-grey hair combed tightly back. His face wrinkled and sunburned. His stern features were opaque the stare of his pale blue watery eyes that reminded Gregory instantly of Jason, was intense or else even a bit threatening. Gregory shuddered to the core. He suddenly felt as if he was playing a role in the movie "Godfather." As if he had said or done something wrong and was just in front of a firing squad. He felt small, ugly, and insignificant under his stare. This man radiated an authority that made him almost ridiculously salute unintentionally.
Once again it gave him the feeling that he had experienced this situation before. What the hell was happening today? How many Deja vus were still to come? The old man waved him over. "I hope you had a
safe trip. Tell me son. Did you enjoy the show?" Gregory nodded politely. "Si, Signore, impressive, thanks for asking!" "I'm Giacomo Motta, and I don’t have much to do with the circus. I am more, in charge of law and order around here. Uncomfortable at times." He laughed, but his laughter made Gregory's blood run cold, a lurking evil, and menacing laugh. He had no idea what they expected of him and what Giacomo knew about him. He cleared his throat, "I am sure my grandfather told you about my situation. I would like to stay here for a while, but of course, I will make myself useful to earn my living while I stay. Certainly there must be plenty of work to do in a circus of this size, I guess."
Nervously he shrugged as Giacomo continued staring at him with undisguised interest and an expression that was hard to read. He fell silent for some time, and Gregory felt increasingly uncomfortable. The big Indian stood still in silence at the entrance. Gregory had the vague feeling that he was not blocking the entrance of the trailer accidentally. Did the two fear that he might run away? Nervous Gregory stroke his sweaty palms over his crumpled jeans. Suddenly he heard Giacomo’s stern voice next to his ear. He had not noticed him getting up from his chair, stepping beside him.
He was too lost in his thoughts. "I have been waiting a damn long time for this moment. At some point in my life, I didn’t think that I'd live to see this." He stood in front of Gregory, staring at him warily with his bright watery eyes beneath thick gray eyebrows. "It is you, Il Guerriero, il Nostro Salvatore … incredible.” He put both hands on Gregory's shoulders looking him in the eye. His look was magnetic. Gregory was not able to look away. Guerriero meant warrior "You got it all wrong, I'm no warrior. I'm nothing like that."
Giacomo inclined his head watching him closely, "Oh yes. We know exactly who and what you are. You are the savior." Gregory flinched, and looked frantically for a getaway path. He was trapped, and wanted to leave, but this shaman with the British accent and the big biceps was blocking the door. How could Gregory get past him? The old man he could handle, but the Indian under no circumstances.
Giacomo seemed to have noticed his panic. He walked slowly back to the desk and opened a drawer. Just great, Gregory thought, probably Giacomo was getting out his gun now. He mobilized all of his strength, concentrating on the water standing in a big carafe on the desk. It ascended in a spout coming to a halt remaining over Giacomo's head in the air. At the same time, he lit up the candle on the secretary, focusing, and shaping the flame into a fireball, which he controlled with his hands. He was not an inexperienced idiot, and would not let those two guys catch him that quickly. He would make sure that they didn't get the chance to torture or kill him. Menacing and ready to use the fireball and the water for his escape he stood there. When he heard a gurgling laugh from the door, he briefly lost concentration and the water-spout spilled over Giacomo's head. Now he saw that the old man was holding a soaking wet cigar in his hand, which he had probably taken out of the drawer. So, oops, no gun, Gregory mused. How embarrassing! It looked a bit ridiculous, as Giacomo stood there like a drowned rat. What should he do next, how could he escape? The Indians stood still there laughing, blocking the door.
Surprisingly Giacomo did not seem upset. A wry smile lit up his rather grim features. His wrinkled face looked for a moment a lot younger than before. "Dio mio, you don’t have to get excited and drown me with a carafe of water just to finish me off eventually with a fireball. Although I must admit, it was impressive. He laughed noisily, "my precious Havana has certainly had it, you owe me a cigar, boy, and believe me they are pricey.” He turned his back on Gregory stepping over to Keanu, who had opened another drawer and taken out a box of cigars. He handed Giacomo a new cigar and lit one for himself. The stench was atrocious. Gregory coughed, and his eyes began to burn like hell. These two lunatics whiffed their cigars pretending nothing had happened. But, damn, they knew who he was, he had to get out of here before he would die from suffocation. He quickly slipped out the door yanking it open. He took a deep breath and was about to flee hastily from the trailer.
He had not reckoned with the Signora, and she came straight towards him. Stiffly she stopped in front of him blocking his way. She looked at him sternly, like a hawk, with her black-rimmed eyes, a hawk that had just discovered a particularly tasty rabbit. She carried the book under her arm, which apparently was her constant companion. "Young man, where are you going in such a rush?" No way for Gregory to get passed her and he had to pause willy-nilly. The Signora shoved him back into the trailer like a renegade chicken into the hen-house.
He heard Giacomo's amused voice from the inside of the trailer. "Gregory, you must certainly remember my longtime muse and life partner Tiziana. I have information that she picked you up at the airport." He got up kissing Signora on both cheeks and cupped her waist in a possessive way. Oh, I understand, Gregory thought wryly. Giacomo was probably her Mr. Grey. "She is a bit brusque and intimidating at times, but she is charming, once you'll get used to her wicked ways," Giacomo grinned. Gregory had his doubts, and he would get used to this woman as little as he would get used to the other two lunatics in this trailer, which clearly meant not at all. Giacomo took the book out of her hands. "Oh dear, as I can see you are trying to find new ways of torturing me." Gregory shuddered because apparently, this Giacomo was an old pervert.
What, bothered him far more was Giacomo knew what and who he was. Probably he was next in line for torture, if he did not disappear immediately. But, where could he go? He had no clue. First thing, he had to do was, get out, as the Italian people said so laconically-subito. He reached out with both hands causing a strong gust of wind opening the door and helping him get out and escape. On the other hand, it caused a commotion inside the trailer.
Documents and cigars were flying through the air. Gregory took the opportunity to rush out the door in the general confusion. He ran as fast as he could toward the exit of the Circus grounds. Apparently, no one followed him. He saw a black Vespa in the parking lot and grabbed it right in front of the eyes of its owner. He got in the saddle and roared off. The owner of the motorbike, a young man who had just taken off his helmet did not seem particularly impressed. Apparently, theft was on every day's agenda around here. He just raised his arms, shaking his head and muttered, "Ma che stronzo," which meant, what an idiot. Gregory could not care any less. He did not look around and drove at full speed toward the small dusty town. The same town he had passed with the van this morning.
Giacomo was furious, "Damn it. Tiziana, Keanu be more careful. You scared him off, and all my beautiful cigars are lying scattered around the trailer, they are worth a fortune." The two of them looked impassively at him and did not move from the spot. "Are you deaf?" Giacomo's face red as a tomato out of sheer anger, "Keanu, what are you waiting for? Get him back. He is stronger than we expected and he is acting uncontrolled. He seems to have trained his skills with someone, and he knows how to use them. You have to bring him back. He must understand what needs to be done. With no further distraction, this time, we must succeed to break the curse. We don't have much time and a lot at stake, none of us lives forever, and especially you should know this Keanu. If my crazy brother-in-law or his clan finds out that he is here, it will be too late." Keanu and Tiziana both looked annoyed at him; "Why did you have to tell him that we know who he is, damn it?" The big Indian said disapprovingly; "I had everything under control, but you can’t keep your mouth shot, old man." It was apparent that he was pissed as he stormed out of the door without another further word. Giacomo sighed and sat back down at his desk. "Obviously, I've screwed it up again with my loose tongue."
Signora Tiziana closed the door and put her book down on the desk. "Caro mio, you are damn right about that, and I think you need a punishment for that. As it happens, I have a lot of interesting ideas about this matter." She patted the book meaningfully. Thanks to this. "Leave me alone with your dirty stuff, he said gruffly. She smiled. "Don’t worry Keanu will find him and take care of everything, as he always does. Oh, by the way, where h
ave you been, our two little angels performed. They had their first performance today, and they were fantastic."
"I'm sorry Tiziana, but I had to devote myself to our accounting, which doesn’t look particularly rosy." "Oh, fiddlesticks, no excuse to miss such a thing!" She banged her fist on the table scowling at him. "I'll make it up Love, I promise. I will be at their next performance, I swear. First, Keanu has to bring back this stubborn boy. It would be a disaster if he would happen to meet the wrong people, as we both know there are plenty around here.
Ourday
Ourday was standing over the open crater looking down into the glowing lava that looked like a red golden viscous ocean. Who would have guessed that his life ended in this red-hot lava? The last months of his life passed before his inner eye in vivid pictures. Much had happened the past few months and so much had changed. It seemed to Ourday that leaving his clan in some foolish attempt to be free had been a bad idea and he had a high price to pay for being such a fool. The opposite had happened, instead of being free he was going to die, and he would give anything to turn back time. With his disobedience, he not only doomed himself but also caused the downfall of his sisters. It was all like a bad dream.
Since hired by the Gambelotti, they were doomed, and the downfall was inevitable. Everything in his life seemed doomed. Except for Magdalena, he even thought of her at this moment, when death reached out for him. Inescapable with no way back, he thought of her soft arms wrapped around him, her golden hair, and her lovely nature. He would always love her beyond death to all eternity. She was the best thing that had happened to him in his young life. He had destroyed both of their lives, just as he destroyed the lives of his two sisters. What would become of the child that Magdalena was carrying under her heart? He would find a way to keep his protective hand over his loved ones from the afterlife.
Elementary Virtue: The Prophecy Page 4