The Circus Infinitus - Genesis Infinitus

by Ethan Somerville

  He couldn’t make them like him – that would necessitate twisting their viewpoints 180 degrees. Let me stay, he sent, broadcasting it in all directions. I’m one of you.

  The largest lad was a burly fellow almost as tall as Del with a thick mop of luxurious brown curls. He balled his fists, ready to confront the newcomer, but then relaxed slightly with a look of resignation. “Oh, let him hang about for a bit. He’ll soon lose his taste for it when he learns not everyone’s nice like Gordon!” He gave a nasty chuckle, and his cronies joined in. “Where does a creamy-faced milksop like you come from, eh?”

  Del slipped into his mind. It had gotten a little easier, but was still a chore. “I’m … from France,” he managed. “My English … not good.”

  This produced more derisive laughter, and taunts of “Frenchie” and “Froggy”. Del had to renew his suggestion all over again, since it seemed most English didn’t like the French! He was soon fatigued from the effort, his stomach rumbling for food – even though he had consumed three hot buns earlier!

  But his suggestion had the desired effect, and one of the other young gentlemen offered him a cigarette to puff on. He accepted because it seemed the done thing, and inhaled the rough, foul-smelling smoke. Luckily his lungs could filter out most impurities!

  It seemed he had only stood with the youths for a few minutes when a large, expensive-looking carriage approached, pulled by two of the biggest, blackest horses Del had seen. The rent-boys looked up hopefully, then the big man – Del called him Curly – recognised the ostentatious crest emblazoned on the side. “Blimey, it’s Lord Longcock!”

  “Not that horny old bastard! I couldn’t walk for a week after he did me!” exclaimed a skinny lad who looked no more than fifteen.

  “Why not let him have Frenchie, since he’s so eager to get on the game?” asked another boy with lank blonde hair hanging over his collar.

  Del had been watching the carriage approach and not paying attention to the conversation behind him. Thus when someone nudged him in the back, he stumbled forward, almost into the path of the oncoming carriage. Luckily it had been slowing down.

  “’Ave a go, Frenchie! He’s a rich noble who pays really well!” chuckled Curly. Del sensed deception.

  The carriage’s windows were covered with thick curtains so Del couldn’t see inside. But then a door swung open, and a gloved hand beckoned to him to quickly hop aboard. Del leapt up into the conveyance as it was still moving, then the door was closed behind him. The driver cracked his whip and the carriage took off. Behind him, the rent-boys howled with laughter.

  “I don’t think that French fried froglet will be back!”

  What have I possibly got to lose? Del wondered as he flopped into a sumptuous velvet-covered seat. I can handle whatever this fellow wants of me. He faced the single occupant, a large, well-built florid-faced gentleman with an enormous set of long white whiskers and a lewd grin. Despite the thick curtains, Del could see him clearly. He was very well dressed, with a red velvet top hat and matching jacket over a heavily embroidered waistcoat.

  “I haven’t seen you before! Where are you from?” He didn’t waste any time, pulling the cravat from Del’s throat as he talked. “You’re exquisitely handsome. I don’t think I can wait until we get to the party.”

  Del slipped into the fellow’s mind. “I am from France.”

  Del allowed himself to be stripped – he sensed this man – actually called Lord Longley – wanted to be in control. He also experienced the fellow’s rising desire, a ferocious hunger made all the more dangerous because it ground against a strong moral code. He wanted Del, but deep down he also wanted to hurt Del, for being so damn beautiful and luring him from the straight and narrow path society demanded!

  However it was almost impossible to hurt an Eridon for pleasure. Del simply rode the lord’s emotions, feeding off them.

  As the carriage rattled through the London’s streets, heading north, Lord Longley buggered him soundly in the back of the carriage. Being remarkably well endowed – for a human – he expected the French lad to weep from the pain. But the boy was extremely accommodating – and enjoyed the act so much he climaxed himself! Lord Longley had never had a he-whore who had done that before, and was so excited by the sight that he was able to fuck Del again before they reached their destination later that afternoon.

  Secreted in a side-street, Pumpkinhead Jack had watched the tall man in the leather top hat approach the heavily decorated Brougham. When he took off his hat, he caught a glimpse of his face. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw the red mark on his forehead.

  It was him! The Necronite had found a place here amongst the rent-boys, selling himself to make money.

  Pumpkinhead had discovered an ability to stalk and hide, but he knew he would never be able to keep up with the carriage, which was rapidly rattling away across the cobbles. Jersey, I need you here! he sent, hoping the other imp would be able to make it in time. I’ve found the Necronite, but I need you to follow him!

  Are you sure?

  I saw the mark! Now get your skinny arse over here now!

  Keeping to the shadows, Pumpkinhead started to run after the carriage. But his influence on the body he had chosen – and in turn its influence on him – had resulted in a corpulent frame that liked food way too much. He was soon puffing and gasping for breath. But then a sleek form sped past him, scattering fallen papers in its wake.

  Take a break before you give that body a heart-attack! sent Jersey Devil as he hared after the coach. In contrast to Pumpkinhead Jack’s, his body had become very long and lean, built for speed. He could run as fast as a horse, and his reflexes were lightning-quick. But he couldn’t hide like Pumpkinhead, and had to rely on his velocity to remain hidden.

  He easily caught up with the carriage, and to conserve energy he leapt onto the back, his slight weight doing little to affect its velocity. He scrambled up on top and lay flat, biding his time until the coach finally reached its destination a few miles to the north, in the greener pastures of Hampstead. It seemed the Necronite had gotten himself invited to a party in a secluded estate surrounded by trees, a particular soiree that appeared to have been going for some time already.

  A tall, well built man climbed down from the brougham, took a slug of whiskey from a hip-flask, quickly followed by a pinch of cocaine from a silver box. He was followed out by the Necronite, whom he escorted towards the house. Copious amounts of light and noise spilled from it. Jersey Devil slipped off the roof as the driver took the brougham through a copse of trees towards some stables around the back of the house.

  Jersey snuck into the house via the kitchens, accosting an unfortunate servant for his outfit. Ratlike as he was, he didn’t think he’d be able to pass himself off as a guest. He collected a large tray of food to carry around, and followed the noise into the main ballroom, where the party was well underway. Amidst the crowds of gentlemen and young lads, Jersey soon spotted the handsome Necronite, already surrounded by half a dozen drunks eager for his favours. All the demon had to do was wait.

  But it proved a very long night. The Necronite seemed to possess amazing stamina. While around him the gentlemen and other rent-boys and prostitutes recruited for the occasion became increasingly drunk, drugged and exhausted, the handsome alien creature seemed able to refuel himself between sexual encounters by regular trips to the buffet table. He helped himself to plates heaped high with crumbed chicken legs, goose eggs, triangular pastries and sweet cakes. During a quiet period just before dawn, when most of the other party goers had finally succumbed to their excesses, the Necronite paused abruptly in his eating and turned about. His penetrating gaze fell on Jersey Devil, one of the few servants still moving about the prostrate, semi-clad bodies sprawled around the room.

  Jersey realised too late that the fellow had spotted him, and bade a hasty retreat into the kitchen. Damn damn damn, he thought furiously. I should have been more careful!

  Del recognised one of the creatures
he had spotted in the alley the day after his arrival. Why was he here? he wondered. Surely his presence is not coincidence! But as he put his plate down, intending to follow the fellow, he felt a large, warm presence loom up behind him, burp potent wine-fumes into his hair, and grab his hand, pressing it against a familiar bulge.

  “I’m ready again,” purred Lord Longley.

  Del allowed himself to be escorted off. After all it was what he was here for. Although he found the whole experience quite exciting, had he been brought to cater exclusively to men? There were women here, but they stayed in one area. Del noticed the men who took them never came over to this side of the room to take pleasure with the rent-boys. Why this separation? he wondered as he allowed himself to be bent over and buggered once more. How many times was that? He seemed to have lost count…

  It didn’t take Lord Longley long to finish. Despite – or perhaps because of - the massive cocktail of whiskey, wine and drugs in his system, he was almost as energetic as Del himself. When he wandered off to fetch himself yet another beverage, Del collected more food for himself, and crossed the massive room to the other side of the orgy. He found female bodies entwined with the males, and even some girls draped across each other. Some were still awake and stretching, searching for potential customers.

  Del massaged his forehead, and looked for a whore who would be interested in him. Actually interested, rather than simply fuelled by narcotics and a desire to make money. Fortunately, these seemed a better class of prostitute than the consumptive harlots from the alleys, and some did enjoy their work. Del’s gaze fell on a tall, voluptuous female with large but smooth breasts, and long dark hair that fell to her backside. Curls spreading between her thighs were the same colour, but by now Del was used to human body hair. She noticed him watching, and her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of his handsome figure. Usually her customers were a lot older and considerably more unattractive.

  “My my, I haven’t seen you here before.”

  “I came from … over there.” He pointed across the room. “Lord Longley brought me.”

  “You’re one of the rent-boys? But what are you doing over here?”

  “I’m curious … I’ve never been with … a woman.”

  She smiled, excited by the prospect of bedding such a handsome, young and above all inexperienced boy. “Really? A gorgeous boy like you? So smooth and pretty … and with a most impressive ramrod!” She spread her arms. “Come here, and let me show you a few things.”

  He entered her embrace, and she drew him down to the tumbled pillows and blankets on the floor. He allowed her to take the lead, although occasional forays into her thoughts told him what she liked, and enabled him to respond accordingly. She felt deliciously soft and so warm surrounding him, that he had to hold himself back, keep himself from spilling his seed too early. She soon revised her opinion of his inexperience when he had her gasping and moaning beneath him.

  Fortunately, they were both finished when a large hand hauled Del from the woman.

  “What are you doing, boy? I brought you here for the men!” growled Lord Longley, who was once more sporting a massive erection.

  Del straightened up. “I’m … sorry sir. I wanted to … know what a woman felt like.”

  The earl stared at him in surprise. “Do you prefer women?”

  “I like … both.”

  “How extraordinary! But I hope you’re finished here, because you have another job to do here! On your knees, boy!”

  Lord Longley didn’t arrange for his departure until well after midday the next day, when he had slept off all the alcohol, cocaine, absinthe and laudanum. Del had managed to catch a couple of hours sleep in a pillow-filled corner and after picking the last of the scraps from the buffet, he felt reasonably refreshed and able to start exercising his mental powers again. After servicing so many fellows and one woman he felt he was entitled to substantial remuneration. However, even though Longley had been extremely impressed with his appearance and stamina, he was a ruthless soul who fully intended to pay him only enough so he wouldn’t complain.

  That’s not on, Del thought. He tried something he hadn’t attempted before – at least not since his arrival. He entered the earl’s mind and focused his concentration.

  You’ll never meet another like me again, he sent. No-one else could have accommodated so many, or performed so many gymnastic manoeuvres! I am worth far more than two pounds!

  He pushed Longley harder, breaking through a lifetime of miserliness, and suddenly the older gentleman staggered, losing his balance, and a sweat broke out on his forehead. “You know,” he began somewhat weakly, “I think you’re worth quite a bit, my boy. How does ten pounds for the evening sound?”

  “It sounds good,” Del answered slowly. Now why don’t you approach some of your friends and get them to contribute as well?

  “I think some of my associates should pay up too – since they had you as well.”

  Del smiled as Lord Longley hurried off to arrange a whip-round. By the time Del was rattling off into the noonday sun, he had close to forty pounds on him. But what a way to make money! he thought. I doubt parties like that happen every day!

  With a sinking feeling, he realised that although he was being well paid for his efforts, they would not make him wealthy. If he wanted to pull in a fortune, he would have to do it dishonestly. It seemed whichever way he turned, the darkness deep inside was calling. He was already associating with an undead creature.

  Jersey sprinted after the carriage as it departed, hoping the Necronite couldn’t sense his presence from within. Now it was daylight it proved a considerable effort for him to remain hidden while following the vehicle back into town, and he lost it several times in the crowded Sunday streets as people headed to and from various church services. He finally reached the coach as it slowed in front of the East End café where the rent-boys congregated. The Necronite jumped down and immediately swept off on his own. Jersey had been hoping he would stop to talk to his friends, but he appeared to have no interest in communicating, and headed towards the train station. Cursing his human body’s weaknesses, that demanded he rest and eat, Jersey hurried after him once more.

  But at the train station he lost him again, in amongst the dense throngs of Londoners. His attempt to remain hidden from the alien’s gaze had backfired, forcing him to keep too far back. “Damnit,” he swore, realizing that the IntelliGent would once again reprimand him for his failure. Well, at least he had an idea where the Necronite lived. He had been heading back into the boundary wherein that portal had appeared.

  Chapter 8

  The Faceless Zombies

  That creature’s appearance at the party couldn’t possibly have been coincidence. It must have followed him there. But why? wondered Del as he rode the train back into the old city. The last time I encountered that being and his two companions they fled from me in fear! Why would they pursue me now? What do they want from me?

  Judging by the way the entity had disappeared as soon as he had spotted it, it could be nothing good. Otherwise it would simply have approached him openly. I must ask Icarus about it, he decided, and realised that he still hadn’t mentioned the creatures to him. He would know exactly what they were.

  Del sighed and rested his head against the high back of his seat. He had made a tidy sum the previous night, but the events had worn him out. He doubted he would be able to do that again for a while. The food had helped, but it seemed no matter how many delicious morsels he ate, he was still hungry. Even the heavy, honeyed cakes hadn’t satisfied him. Human food simply could not fill him up. He would have to rely on energy to top up his reserves. While human warmth helped, it wasn’t enough. Only in Icarus’s hideout could he get enough. Only in front of that furnace did he feel … full.

  It was late afternoon by the time he reached Icarus’ alley. He wondered what the strange cyborg scientist had been up to during his absence and hoped he hadn’t missed him too much. He picked his way along the
dank, evil-smelling cobbles to the low doorway, and noticed that its old occupant had returned. The derelict with the ruined face sagged against the doorframe, wrapped in a filthy woolen overcoat reeking of stale alcohol and urine. He didn’t move as Del approached, and the Eridon realised he would have to shift him. He reached down to lift the fellow under the arms, expecting his human warmth. He felt nothing. And neither did the drunk stir. As Del shifted him, the ragged scarf fell from around his face, revealing that his degenerative condition had accelerated, eating away part of his mouth. His head flopped forward, bloody drool dribbling from the ruined orifice.

  “Eridos!” Del gasped. “We must get you some help. Perhaps Icarus can do something.” He hoisted the body onto his shoulder. Despite his size he was skin and bone, reduced to an emaciated wreck by his drinking and illness. Del pushed the door inwards and carried his burden down into Icarus’s basement.

  Because of his various wards around the alley, Icarus knew Del was coming – and what he was bringing with him. “Damnit Del! You should have left him up there to die!” the cyborg yelled.

  Del deposited the man on the floor in front of the furnace. “I can’t do that! He is very sick – he deserves some help. If you can’t do anything, I will have to take him to a doctor.”

  Icarus crouched beside the derelict, examining his face, then pulling open his coat to check his heart. “A doctor can’t help him. He’s already dead. It didn’t happen that long ago – rigor mortis hasn’t set in yet.”

  “Wh-what killed him?” Del gasped.

  “Syphilis probably.” Suddenly he looked up at Del, a strange gleam in his single human eye. “We might still be able to do something for him.”