“I don’t know, but we could ask around after the show. It’s just strange that it’s all the way down here, away from the main Midway,” I said.
Gripper shrugged. “Maybe it’s a supply ship. Come on, yer two. Let’s go see what the fuss is about.”
We ran full speed the last few feet to the tent opening, stumbling into one another as we stopped.
“Where’s everyone?” Bae asked as we looked in the tent’s murky darkness. The stage area was the only part illuminated that appeared infused with lavender and indigo-colored mist.
“Well, I guess we can just go in? Come on,” I said as I entered the tent where I was hit with a sweet, mossy, dirty scent—like a wet field after the rain. Violets. I knew the fragrance anywhere. It was Fiona’s favorite flower. Fiona. Thinking her name caused a pain in my chest. I couldn’t believe that I’d gone so long without thinking of her—wanting her. She’s not mine. I shook my head to stifle my arousal. I knew I had to focus on anything but her.
“Seems like, with such a fuss being made over the special tickets that somebody would be here to take them. Anybody could walk in here. Makes me almost regret stealing them.” Gripper snorted as we all found a seat on the front row.
When we sat, the soft whir of a flying automaton headed towards us. A brass droid with wings appeared, and in its hands, it carried a small golden tray holding three small tumblers filled with green liquid, a small porcelain container, and a pitcher filled with what looked to be water. In an emotionless voice it asked, “Tickets, please.”
Bae clapped his hands and exclaimed, almost gleefully, “The Green Fairy! Now this is entertainment!” Once the tray made it to him, he tossed his ticket on it. I was surprised, seeing he knew precisely how to prepare the drink. He grabbed the thick crystal glass with the green liquid and picked up the spoon beside it. Then, scooping a sugar cube out of the porcelain container, he raised it over the glass and, using water from the small pitcher, poured it over the sugar, which, when mixed with the solution, created a milky substance. Without hesitation, he downed the beverage.
“Bae, wait!” Trepidation tightened my chest. “What are you doing? You can’t just swig some strange drink out of nowhere. Plus, why would they give us Absinthe? Don’t you both find that strange?”
He wiped his mouth with his hand and eyed our portions. “Maybe dis is how the rich folks live. Yer said yer nabbed ‘em tickets from some dandy right, Gripper?”
Gripper nodded and shrugged, then glanced at me and said, “Wat’s it gonna hurt?” He drained his glass as well.
Bae giggled and Gripper leaned back in his seat, both facing the stage.
Maybe I’m overreacting?
I wasn’t sure, although I had to admit I felt a little calmer than when we’d first arrived to the circus. Still, there had been so many strange things happening, part of me yearned for a simple explanation. So I pushed down the niggling doubt, handed over my ticket, and took the last tumbler from the small droid’s tray before it flew away. Finishing my drink, I enjoyed the herbal flavor with a hint of liquorice that lingered.
I leaned back in my seat, when not much later, the room started to warm and everything became blurry. Feeling sleepy, I struggled against the enveloping haze clouding my mind. A figure stepped onto the stage. In silhouette, the individual looked to be a male dressed like the bally with a top hat and vest. He remained in the shadowed portion of the stage, right outside the violet glow coming from the performer’s circle.
“Gentlemen, welcome. I am so pleased to have you as my guests this evening! Prepare to be entertained and astounded! This performance is only for those specially invited. First, I will introduce myself. I am Sebastian Deveraux, the proprietor of this fine venue.” Even in the ever-deepening stupor, I could hear the manic-tinged words of our host. My movements felt sludgy, and it took most of my effort to fully open my eyes and make my mouth move.
I turned my head slowly and glanced at Bae and Gripper, realizing they too had fallen into some trance. Both of them gazed with dulled expressions towards the stage.
I found my voice with extreme effort, and said, “W-we weren’t supposed to be here . . . not our tickets. W-why are you doing this?” Exhausted from that small attempt, I slumped back in my seat and watched the shadowed man.
“Oh, that is where you are wrong,” he said in a deep voice. “The tickets find their owners. No matter the circumstances, those who come in are supposed to be here. I do apologize for the refreshments. I regret having to use such devices, but it is simply necessary in order to help the unveiling go smoothly.” Sebastian’s voice appeared to come closer to me, although his silhouette remained on the stage. His words surrounded me until only his voice was my reality. He continued, “You are my special guests. All of my special guests have unique, natural-born qualities that produce an essence—an energy, which is an elixir to me. It nourishes me. In fact, there are only a few families throughout the world with this special quality, and when their descendants have surrendered to their truest and basest natures, they can sustain me—such as with Gargoyle’s spicy wrath and Rubbish-man’s succulent flavor of gluttony.”
We’re food. The thought slithered through a small opening in the fog that covered my mind.
“My Dymphna and her dance will guide this essence to the surface. Do not resist. It will not hurt. Much.” The unseen host chuckled.
The shadowed man stepped back into the darkness off-stage, although, I was still aware of his presence. It felt as if he was everywhere.
A girl, not much older than us, came on the stage draped in purple and dressed similarly to the scarf dancers. The music started, and the dark waves of her hair hid her face as she fluidly moved her hips and arms. The rich golden skin of her abdomen and legs glistened in the light, which caused desire to blaze inside of me. I moved uncomfortably in my seat, wishing I could ignore my craving for the strange girl. I tried to focus my thoughts on Fiona. Fiona. But the name, which once was as precious to me as my own just a little while before, had a false sound.
Dymphna moved, going faster and faster. As I watched her twirl, my thoughts seemed to open. I wasn’t sure whether I was awake or asleep. In my mind, I saw Bae, Gripper and myself as we entered the circus and stopped by the food vendor. I watched Gargoyle go by, but instead of seeing just the angry man, I could see the inside of him, and there, a monster peered back at me, yellowed-eyed and in a rage.
I once again was aware of Dymphna as she bent, then lifted her torso and moved her hips. The scene switched in a flash, and an image of Rubbish Man stood before me. Gone was the baby-faced man-child. Instead, I saw a slobbering fiend with blood on its lips from the carcasses he devoured.
Not certain if he read my thoughts, or just referred back to his earlier statement, I heard the shadowed man’s voice again.
“Ahhh, those were the best of my guests—Wrath and Gluttony. Hmm delectable. They were strong and have been with me for decades, providing sustenance, but I could use a little variety. We all crave new flavors every once in a while. Isn’t that so, Tristan?”
I heard the sickening giggle again, and then he continued, “You are extra special, Tristan. From the rarest of bloodlines among those families under my protection, you, who can also see others’ truest forms. I would love for you to join me. I am in need of a ringmaster, someone I can trust to keep my special guests in line. That is why I speak only to you. Your friends are in the midst of their unveiling.”
What is he saying? Families and protection? I’d never heard of any of this before! Questions swam listlessly through my fogged-covered mind. “No, no, please let us go!” I could hear the terror in my voice. Grandfather and his stories! This is how he knew details about Dymphna’s Dance. We’re one of the families that feed this monster! I tried holding onto the terrifying thoughts in order to keep my mind clear, but each one slipped away. In a rusty voice, I asked, “W-What are you?”
The Sebastian spoke, sounding sad. “As priceless as you are to me, even
you, with your feeble brain, cannot comprehend who and what I am. Truly, I am sorry it has to be this way, but it is necessary. Although, there is that hope, if you are strong, then you are welcomed to join us here. If not, well, that is unfortunate.”
“Demon,” I whispered. I could barely get the words out, but I continued, “If I stay, please let my friends go. Please.”
He chuckled again. “Yes, I have been called that a time or two, and how noble, but alas, that is not what I am looking for. Do not fight it.”
Once again, I fell into the trance of Dymphna’s Dance. I struggled against it as I attempted to focus on the memory of Fiona’s face. But no, that’s what he wants, my desires for someone who is not mine. Lust is my unveiling. Dymphna danced all lavender and rose, her copper brown skin glowing in the light. I ached from wanting to touch her and to sink into her softness.
A soft feminine voice whispered, “Stay with me.”
I watched her, and the more I did, the more a growing need roared up inside me.
Suddenly, the scene switched in my head. I wasn’t sure if I was awake or sleep. I could see Bae, riding his pedal walker through the darkened pathways of the Midway, chased by the monkey droids. He gasped as he was suddenly forced to switch to manual pedalling because the steam conductor stopped working.
I said aloud, “Bae, no. Please keep moving!”
Sebastian spoke once more. “Ahhh, Sloth. It does leave us in some challenging spots, does it not? If he had only listened.”
In my trance, I saw Bae as he continued to pedal his bike, sweat trailing down his face and his breath uneven. Soon the scene changed, and he was attempting to pedal uphill. The monkey droids, with their horrific screeches and cries, were close on his tail. Then, they came to an abrupt stop. Bae glanced over his shoulder, and he laughed hysterically when they fell back.
In horror, sensing something terrible was about to happen, I watched as he got off the bicycle and pushed it the rest of the way up the hill.
Upon reaching the top, Bae’s grin turned to terror.
My view switched to see what my friend saw. The clown bot from outside of the circus stood in front of him. The bot smiled, showing rows upon rows of steel teeth. Bae screamed and tried to get away. Before he was able to run, the automaton raised its hand, which turned into a claw and pushed inside my friend’s chest.
I screamed, and kept screaming, even when the scene in my captive thoughts changed again.
Gripper’s gray eyes were wide with fright as he ran between the tents, taking the path we had taken to get to the Twilight Feature. No, Gripper no! The thought of losing him as well was too much. I didn’t want to watch, but I wasn’t in control of my body or thoughts anymore.
Gripper raced through the darkness and stopped short, panic on his face when he realized he was surrounded by the chattering, growling monkey droids. Their sharpened teeth glistened in the moonlight. He started swinging, but there was no use, and the Droids swarmed him as one. He went down to the ground, covered by the mass of growling machines. Out of nowhere, the airship we’d seen earlier dropped closer to the ground, and the image blinked out.
“It is a shame what Greed can do. The thought that, if only your friend had not stolen the tickets, then none of this would have happened, must have entered your mind. Is that not correct, Tristan?” My dark host continued, “If they had only listened when you offered advice. How may have that changed everything? Stay. If you remain with me, then those I send you will listen to you, Tristan. Or, as your friends have found their fates, you will find yours—and your lust will be my nourishment!”
My mind screamed against all I had seen. The dance, the images. It’s a trick! I’m hallucinating. Once I wake up, Bae and Gripper will be fine. They’ll be okay!
A part of me knew that wasn’t true—I knew they were gone. Tears almost choked me, and I tried turning my head to find my friends in the darkened pavilion, but I couldn’t. I could only watch Dymphna.
In front of me, all I saw were the lines of her back, her thighs, and the curves of her body. My body reacted. I wanted her. Above anyone or anything else, I wanted to lose myself in her dance.
The feminine voice spoke again, “Stay, Tristan.”
Aloud, I said, “I’ll stay.”
Later, I opened my eyes, and the soft glow of the gaslights, which lit the carnival fields, showed through the tent flap. The stage was empty. No Dymphna. No Shadowed Man. No Bae. No Gripper.
I tried moving and found I was back in control of my body. A pounding headache made me close my eyes, and my mouth felt as dry as if I’d eaten cotton. I took in my surroundings and called out, “Bae? Gripper? That was some ride guys, right?”
There was no reply. I looked around, and their seats were empty. I stood and walked over to Gripper’s seat. The wad of money, his take from selling the stolen goods, sat in the middle of the chair.
“Gripper,” I said, touching the wad of bills, still warm as if he’d just pulled it from his pocket. I walked towards the end of the row and down the aisle. I found Bae’s pedal walker, covered in blood and gore. There were no other signs of either of them.
“Guys,” I whispered in a rusty voice.
“Handsome, yer ready? Dis time to announce the next shows!” The bored-looking ticket taker from when we’d first arrived stood in the tent opening with the same expression on her face as she waited with hands on her hips.
Lost as to what to do, I happened to look down, and that was when I noticed my clothes were gone. Instead, I was dressed as the bally, in a vest and gas pipe trousers. A top hat rested in my seat.
I’ll leave. I can go get help. Just as the thought of escape trickled through my mind, excruciating pain raked through my body. I fell to my knees as blood gushed from my nose.
“No-o-o. No-o-o,” I said as I rocked on my knees with my head in my hand. “Can’t be true. Can’t be true.”
I heard a sigh, and the girl said, “As soon as you accept it, then it gets easier. Don’t try to escape. Your brain will explode. Now clean up.” She tossed a handkerchief to me.
I remained on my knees, looking down at my hands, covered in blood. I heard the sigh again.
“If you good, there is something. You get to see Dymphna dance every night!”
Slowly, memories of the dancing girl filled my mind and washed away the horrors. I stood, not bothering with the handkerchief, and walked sluggishly back to my seat, picking up my hat and carefully placing it on my head. I straightened my soiled vest, not caring that blood continued to run from my nose.
The girl eyed me with distaste as I took a deep breath and said, “I’m ready.” I took one last look over my shoulder towards the stage, and I noticed a scarf like the one Dymphna had worn laying there with a single purple rose.
Thoughts of Gripper, Bae, Fiona and all others in my past life were gouged from my mind. I lived for the moments I would see Dymphna’s Dance.
“I’m not a werewolf! I’m not!”
Catcalls and hoots greeted Quinn’s denial. But the most damning of all sounds came from the sizzling of the silver knife dipped in the drop of his blood.
“You are infected,” the Tellurian woman said, her voice muffled by the respirator covering the lower half of her face.
The lass in question wouldn’t normally cut such a figure of doom. She was generous in her curves, barely up to Quinn’s shoulder in height, and as bald as a cue ball—like the rest of the Tellurians. But the storm prophet’s garb helped make up for that. There’s nothing quite like a lady wearing goggles, breathing mask, and full length lab coat with heavy black boots and gloves to make you reconsider the laugh building in your throat. At least if you were a smart lad.
Quinn didn’t quite qualify.
“Thirty scrip to the man who helps me teach this ‘delicate flower’ a lesson in talking back to her betters!” he bellowed. A couple of lads half-raised up. With the lottery the way it was, that scrip could buy one more chance of a miracle happening.
&nb
sp; “That ain’t enough to pay for the doctor to treat the injuries from it,” I shouted above the din.
The boys at the testing station settled down a bit, heads turning toward me. While I wasn’t one of the local roustabouts or lawmen, the others tended to steer clear of me. With good reason.
“The old dog barks! What are you doing here, Jack? Ain’t no chance you can get up there with the real people,” Quinn called back.
Fair money to the lad; he kept his voice from breaking. Most didn’t dare talk back to me, at least not without a few of their own backing them up.
My reputation was largely unearned. As one of the soldiers that had been present for the first outbreak of the werewolf virus at the Wounded Knee massacre in 1890, my survival and infection were both things of legend. What the boys never seemed to understand was that the killing was one-sided, with us cowardly enlisted obeying the shouts of our captain to fire on unarmed Lakota men, women, and children. We were trained to follow orders, but the truth of it was that most of the company thought of the red man as less than an animal. They were joking and carrying on during the slaughter. God help me, I went along with it, even with bile in my mouth and tears in my eyes. I wasn’t brave enough, man enough, to stand for what was right. My mother would have slit my throat at birth if she’d been witness to the acts I carried out that day. And she would have been right to do it.
When the first of the Indians started shifting into the nine-foot-tall nightmares of fur and fangs, it was almost a relief. Bullets and blades did nothing, and they turned the tables quick on us, their massacre instead becoming ours. The few soldiers who survived their fury did so by burrowing under our dead. But there wasn’t a man alive after that who didn’t come away with the disease in their blood from one injury or another.
Cogs in Time Volume Three (The Steamworks Series Book 3) Page 18