by J. C. Diem
I climbed out and headed to the circus where the screams were coming from. A huge white banner hung over the canvas door. The words ‘Carnival of Clowns’ was written in large red and purple letters. “Great. This is just what I need,” I muttered as I passed beneath the banner. I’d never been a fan of clowns, but after seeing Bonzo slaughter a bunch of Night Cursed fairy princesses, I mistrusted them all.
Cursed and uncursed patrons were flocking towards the circus behind me, drawn by the screams that were ringing out. I realized it was just one person making the noise. She was female, but that was all I could tell from a distance.
I had to fight my way through the crowd to enter the tent. It was far larger on the inside than it had appeared on the outside. The tent was circular, with rows of wooden bench seats encircling the ring. The seats were tiered and led down to the arena where a troupe of jesters were cavorting around. They wore tight jackets and pants that were red on one side and green on the other. Weird red and green hats with sharp spikes and bells on the ends were perched on their heads. They also wore curled red and green shoes with bells on the tips. The jingling noise of their bells would drive me mad within minutes, but the show they were putting on was actually interesting.
A woman had been tied to a wooden wheel. It was spinning around so quickly that she was just a blur of a red dress and long brown hair. The group of five jesters were plucking knifes from a table in front of them. They were taking turns throwing them at the woman. She let out a small shriek each time one of the weapons landed near her with a loud thud.
Dancing around and laughing in glee, barely seeming to pay attention to what they were doing, the jesters’ bells rang merrily as they continued to throw the knives with abandon. One snatched up a knife, then bent over and began hopping on one hand. He didn’t even seem to aim as he tossed the knife at the wheel. Another shriek rang out and the crowd gasped half in terror for the woman and half in awe at his skill.
Surrounded by the crowd who were pushing and shoving to get a better view, I couldn’t sense what sort of beings the jesters were. They looked human, if on the small side. Their two-toned outfits were skin-tight and hugged their lithely muscled bodies. The jesters stayed on the move constantly, so I couldn’t get a good look at their faces. It was almost as if they were deliberately trying to hide their identities from the crowd.
I worked my way downwards until I stood at the low wall that encircled the ring. Up this close, I could now sense the jesters and picked up on something strange. Only one of them seemed to be giving off any energy. I caught enough glimpses of their faces to see that they were identical.
Speeding up their antics, the knives flew thick and fast until the spinning woman gave one long shriek after another. She wasn’t faking it and I could feel her terror. I also sensed that she was uncursed. So were the jesters. Or should I say jester, because I was pretty sure four of them were just illusions.
Dancing, prancing and giggling with glee, the clown that I knew was real and not just an illusion seemed to be high on the tension and anticipation that was emanating from the crowd. We could all feel his show building to a climax. I hoped it wasn’t going to end in the woman’s death. If it did, I would be hunting the weird little man down and bringing him to justice for his crime.
Just when the tension became unbearable, all five jesters lined up side by side and simultaneously threw their knives at the spinning woman. Her shrieks reached a crescendo, then cut out when she fainted from sheer terror. Silence filled the tent, then the wheel abruptly stopped spinning. Knives made a perfect outline of the poor woman’s body. Not one of them had pierced her flesh.
“Ta da!” the jesters shouted and danced a short jig. When they finished their routine, they came to a stop with their fingers pointing at the slowly rousing woman. Four of the jesters vanished, leaving the real one on display. The crowd went wild and surged to their feet, clapping, stomping and cheering. I felt a strange form of magic spreading out to encompass them all.
“What happened?” the dazed woman asked shakily, looking around in incomprehension. “Where am I?”
“You were kind enough to volunteer to be my assistant, madam,” the clown told her. He was a little shorter than me and slender, with white blond hair and pale green eyes that danced with mischief. Like a lot of the uncursed, he had an accent. It was possibly Scottish or Irish or something similar.
“No, I didn’t,” she denied. I could sense she was a magic user. She started struggling against her bonds and the jester flicked his fingers at her. She immediately went still and her eyes glazed over.
“Who are you?” I called out over the noise of the enthralled crowd. They were showing no signs of stopping and were still clapping madly.
“Who, me?” the jester said, putting his pale hand on his chest and looking around in comical surprise. “Why, I’m Crowmon, milady,” he said. He took his weird hat off and gave me a bow. The bells jingled merrily with his movements.
“What are you?” I asked him next.
“I’m just a minor trickster deity, not someone you need to worry about,” he replied. He held his hand out and a large red and green sack appeared. “Just go about your business and leave me to gather my spoils.”
He pointed at me and fresh magic surged. I found myself walking away before I realized what was happening. I shook off the compulsion to leave and turned to see jewelry being magically stripped from the crowd. Rings, earrings, bracelets, necklaces and other valuables were zooming through the air to land in the sack. The jester had to be new to Nox. Most of the throng were Night Cursed, so there was no point in robbing them. Everything he’d stolen from them would return to his victims come tomorrow night.
Crowmon didn’t seem to be harming anyone, so I took his advice and left him to it. He was just a petty thief and not worth my time. There were far more dangerous evil monsters and bad guys for me to fight elsewhere in the city.
Chapter Twenty-Four
SUMMER WAS COMING TO an end and the leaves would soon be changing color. The skeleton work crews would spend the entire fall sweeping up leaves. The magic that kept Nox clean wasn’t attuned to nature. It wasn’t able to melt snow or vaporize fallen foliage. Besides, the undead workers needed something to do to keep them busy. There were enough trees in the City of Night to ensure they would have a full-time job keeping the streets and sidewalks clear.
I was on patrol in the Vampire District when I received a letter from the Immortal Triumvirate a few nights after the incident at the circus. My orders were to go to their headquarters immediately. I’d figured this summons would be coming after hearing rumors that the uncursed beings who had been robbed were unhappy. My kin didn’t remember the thefts and their belongings always returned to them anyway.
The letter vanished from my hand and a carriage pulled up to ferry me to my destination. We clattered away from the bloodsuckers’ District towards the City Square. I was glad to see I was the only one who had received the summons. If it was in relation to Crowmon as I suspected, it didn’t look like I was going to be given an execution order to get rid of him.
As always, two security guards with CIA and FBI badges pinned to their black jackets were standing in the foyer. “You’re cleared to enter, ma’am,” the FBI guy said with a respectful nod. They both had slicked back hair and wore sunglasses.
“Thanks,” I replied, surprised they weren’t going to grill me about what my business was this time. The FBI guy put his finger to his ear. He was wearing a magical device that allowed him to communicate with our leaders. “Ms. Evora is here,” he murmured, then gestured at the staircase across the foyer.
The floor was smooth gray stone and was rather uninspiring as I crossed to the stairs. I climbed up to the second floor where two more agents were standing guard. They nodded at me and one of them opened the door. The Immortal Triumvirate’s chamber was a huge circular room, with three large wooden desks sitting across from the doors. The desks were on a raised platform and the th
ree lords of Nox were in attendance. They weren’t alone. Uncursed beings sat on padded wooden seats that formed rows in an arc, with walkways in between the four different sections.
Eyes watched me with varying degrees of contempt and mistrust when I entered. I still wasn’t sure who these people and creatures were. They were probably leaders of their communities and they were all important in some way. There were a few humans wearing robes of various colors as well. I figured they were probably from the Magic Guild. At that thought, I spotted Efrem Prager among the crowd. He glowered at me evilly, but I pretended I didn’t recognize him.
“You summoned me, my lords?” I said when I reached the empty area in front of the Triumvirate’s desks.
“A new arrival to the city has been causing some trouble,” Lord Dallinar said. His lilac hair always looked perfect, as if he’d just had it professionally styled. “We’re not sure who or what he is,” he went on. “We want you to find him and advise him that he needs to adhere to the laws of Nox. He must stop using his olde-worlde magic on the uncursed beings and robbing them of their belongings.”
I already knew what sort of being Crowmon was, but I couldn’t tell them what I knew. As always, I had to play dumb. “Yes, my lord,” I said.
“You will find this creature somewhere in your own District,” Lord Kreaton informed me. It wasn’t easy to meet his dark eyes after he’d tried to murder me, but I refused to flinch and look away. This monster had drained me to the point of death. He would have raped me if Wrath hadn’t stepped in to prevent it. “We’ve heard he wears the guise of a clown of some sort,” he added.
“Don’t hurt this being,” Lord Graham ordered me and shifted as if he was feeling uneasy. “Unless he harms someone, he is not to be punished yet.” They were being cautious until they learned exactly what sort of creature the clown was.
“So, I need to hunt down a mysterious new clown and tell him about your laws, my lords?” I asked for clarification.
“Indeed, Ms. Evora,” Lord Dallinar said peevishly. He didn’t like being questioned and I figured he was still angry that he’d failed to bamboozle me a decade ago. “Leave now and report back to us once you’ve spoken to him,” he said dismissively.
“Yes, my lord,” I agreed. I bowed, then turned and strode out of the chamber. Whispers followed in my wake. No one seemed to know exactly who or what Crowmon was, except for me. I hadn’t mentioned him to my friends yet. It was games night tomorrow, so I would fill them in when they were all gathered at our warehouse.
It was intriguing that no one seemed to be able to recall much about the little jester. His ‘olde-worlde’ magic must be as different as it had felt. None of the magic users that he’d bamboozled could resist his spell. The fae rarely visited the entertainment zone in our District, so I wasn’t sure if they would have a resistance to it. They considered us to be beneath them and our forms of entertainment didn’t interest them at all. I mentally sneered that they preferred their endless tea parties and social gatherings to a good show.
A carriage took me south to the Miscellaneous Beings’ District. We headed to the business zone near where Quilla worked. I disembarked on the street where the circuses had been set up. I couldn’t hear any terrified screams coming from any of them yet. If Crowmon was working his magic, I was going to have to get close enough to sense it.
The first circus was the one with all the clowns. I grimaced as I pushed my way through the canvas door. A dozen clowns in overalls and onesies were juggling, riding monocycles while spinning plates on sticks and chasing each other around. The crowd found it hilarious, but I just found them to be annoying.
I watched the clowns for a while, but none of them were my target. It was a relief to be able to leave. The scent of candy apples and popcorn that was mixed with sweat had been overpowering.
A bestial roar sounded from the next circus. It was one that had exotic animals and monsters. I couldn’t see the jester coming up with a routine that would fit in with the show, but I checked it anyway. I stuck my head through the door of the tent to take a look. A creature that looked like a cross between a lion and a black scorpion was in the center of the stage. It looked like it was stalking its handler.
The handler was dressed in a red jacket, tight white pants, a black top hat and black knee-high boots. He held a whip in one hand. He was Night Cursed, but the monster he was attempting to control wasn’t. It padded towards him on silent front lion feet and its back scorpion legs scuttled to keep up. Venom dripped from the black stinger that was curled up behind it, ready to strike.
Using a whip, the handler tried to force the beast to climb up onto a platform. “Nice kitty! Good kitty!” he said soothingly. The lion roared again, then pounced on him. Claws raked across the handler’s stomach and blood spurted from his deep wounds. He screamed shrilly, then the stinger struck with lightning speed. Impaled on the end, he gasped his last breath as his face turned as black as the venom that had killed him.
The crowd let out raucous cheers as the lion strutted around, clearly proud of its kill. Its real handler strode out onto the stage and tossed the creature a hunk of raw meat. “Another poor Night Cursed victim falls to the mighty beast!” he shouted. He wore an identical outfit to the one the dude who had obviously been a plant had been wearing. Two skeletons shambled into the ring. They grabbed hold of the deceased man and dragged him out into a back room, leaving a trail of blood behind them. Magic cleaned it up a few seconds later until the sandy ground was pristine again.
I shook my head in disapproval, but there wasn’t much I could do about this form of entertainment. The fake handler would regenerate tomorrow night with no recollection of what had happened. He would be used in the show to wow the crowd each night. It would probably go on indefinitely until the real handler came up with a new routine. It was easy to shock and awe an audience who would keep forgetting the performance even if they’d seen it a thousand times.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I FOUND CROWMON IN the fourth circus. This one was comprised of a troupe of acrobats. They held the crowd spellbound with their performance, or so it seemed on the surface. In reality, an enchantment blanketed the audience. Only the performers were exempt from it, but they were so caught up in their routine that they had no idea the people who were watching were being robbed. They were Night Cursed and each performer wore tights that conformed to their bodies. It was distracting to see them bending their bodies into unnatural positions, so I ignored them.
Staying near the exit, I scanned the rows of seats in search of my target. I spied the red and green outfit of a jester over to the right. Crowmon was working his way along one of the rows. He was using magic to strip the uncursed of their valuables. He’d figured out it was pointless to rob the Night Cursed. Most of us had visible tattoos and we were easy to recognize. Mine was on the back of my left hand and it was hidden by my fingerless glove.
The jingling noises of the bells on the little man’s hat and shoes masked the sounds I made as I worked my way towards him. He didn’t even know I was there until my hand closed over his shoulder. “Busted,” I said in satisfaction.
Crowmon let out a small shriek and spun around, light green eyes wide with fright. “You just scared the life out of me, lass!” he said in an accusing tone.
“You seem pretty alive to me,” I retorted and pointed at the red and green bag that I knew was full of loot. “What’s in the bag?” I asked.
The jester grinned at me and hefted it. The contents made a metallic noise in response. “Just a few trinkets and odds and ends,” he said with a shrug. “But that’s none of your concern, dearie.”
He lifted his hand to cast a spell at me and I reached out and grabbed him by his jacket. He made an indignant squawking noise that Gip would have been proud of when I lifted him off his feet. “The Immortal Triumvirate sent me to find you,” I informed him and his already pale face lost a few shades of color. “They want to know who and what you are. They also want me to inf
orm you about the laws here in Nox.”
“I’m above the laws that are set by others,” he said, mustering up some dignity even though his feet were dangling a couple of inches above the ground. “Your leaders can’t rule a god.”
“Is that what you are?” I asked as if I didn’t remember our prior meeting.
He rolled his eyes that he had to repeat himself. “You witless Night Cursed fools are a blight on this city,” he said. “My name is Crowmon and I’m a trickster deity,” he said, enunciating the words clearly as if that would somehow make me remember them. “I’m a minor god, which means I’m immortal and no one has power over me.”
“Sorry, but you’re wrong on both counts, little man,” I said and put him down before my arm started to shake from holding him up. “The Immortal Triumvirate rule everyone in the City of Night, including any ‘gods’ that might show up.” He opened his mouth to retaliate, but I kept speaking before he could unleash a tirade on me for disrespecting his questionable divinity. “As for being immortal, Wrath here can kill any creature, whether it’s alive, dead or undead.” I nodded at my staff that I held in my left hand.
“I sincerely doubt that,” he said with a sneer. Wrath pulsed once, which got the jester’s attention. Crowmon held his hand out, but stopped short of touching the blade. “I sense death and souls in this weapon,” he said in surprise.
“He’s infused with the soul of a grim reaper,” I confirmed. I didn’t mention all the other souls that were trapped inside him.
“So, this staff has the power to kill anything, does it?” the deity mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
“Don’t even think about trying to steal him from me,” I warned him. “Wrath is bound to me and he always comes to me when I call him. He won’t work for anyone else but me anyway.”
