by Drew Hayes
Now that I was paying attention, I saw more figures popping into view, rising up from different booths on the midway. They said nothing, their dirty, pale animal masks gazing eerily at us as they appeared. Could one spirit manifest in so many different forms? Or was this a collection of them, who’d all decided to make the empty carnival their home? I deeply wished I’d asked a few more questions before we starting running; information would have been extremely useful in this moment.
“Shit, that’s a lot of ‘em.” Bubba took a step back, eyes darting between assailants. Even Richard had noticed now, although he looked far closer to furious than fearful. I could hear his heart hammering in his chest from several feet away. Bubba’s as well, which was odd—he didn’t seem that worked up. Then I noticed the next one, and it finally clicked.
No wonder I hadn’t realized it before, with the blaring music inside the fun house and my general tendency to block out the cacophony of sounds vampire hearing dragged to my ears. Now that I’d noticed, there was no mistaking the noise for anything else though. It was a sound my senses were fine-tuned to recognize: heartbeats. The sound of precious blood being moved through a body.
“They’ve got heartbeats!” I yelled. “All of them have heartbeats. That means they aren’t spirits, right?”
“That’s right, Fred.” Richard’s expression had darkened. His fingers were flexing at his sides, the sharp nails already beginning to take on a more claw-like appearance in the flickering lights of the midway bulbs. “That means they have flesh and blood, both of which can be torn apart if they keep standing in our way.”
“Looks like the Scooby approach didn’t work.” This voice was new, coming from a man in a dart-throwing booth. It was my cat-mask wearer, features still hidden as he finally spoke. “Too bad you boys didn’t take the warning when you had the chance. Now, we’ve got to get messy.”
Bubba cracked his knuckles, and Richard lowered his stance, winding up for a pounce. They were preparing to fight, and while the masked people had a numbers advantage, they were still in for a hell of a brawl. Unless it was an entire crew of fey or therians, I had a strong suspicion that Richard was about to rip a swath of blood through their ranks.
None of us were prepared for what came next, however. Instead of jumping out from the booths to fight us, the masked men all pulled out guns and took aim. We barely had time to register what was going on before Cat Mask yelled an order to the rest of the gang. “Fire!”
And just like that, the world was suddenly drowned out in a sea of bullets.
5.
Prior to reconnecting with Krystal, my only real exposure to firearms was in the form of action films. However, after we began spending time together, I grew more accustomed to the presence of guns, mostly because she rarely left a room without one, and once Arch joined our group, they became even more commonplace. Rather than making me apathetic to the danger of guns, this fact only served to heighten my respect and awareness of their danger. Crazy as Krystal could be, she took firearm safety seriously, and being around her made it impossible for some of that attitude not to rub off on me.
That was why, in spite of knowing rationally that a mere bullet would be little more than an inconvenience to me, I still hit the ground as soon as the first shot rang through the air. Assuming safety in a shoot-out was ludicrous, vampire or not. To my surprise, Richard and Bubba were both lying on the concrete as well, dodging the initial volley that ripped through the air overhead.
“Huh, I wasn’t expectin’ this.” Bubba was close enough for me to hear him over the bullets cutting through the air, unlike Richard, who was stuck several feet away. He’d grabbed a plastic flask from somewhere in his pocket and had the cap halfway unscrewed. Something had stopped him from drinking whatever lay within, though. “It’s hard to get a good whiff with all the chemical stink in this place, but those don’t smell like silver bullets.”
He was right. While the scent of gunpowder was slowly choking out the chemical stench from the cleaners, there wasn’t so much as a single whiff of silver in the air. Not too surprising; no reasonable person would expect their hideout to be assaulted by a vampire and two were-creatures. Regular guns were more than enough to handle normal threats, especially this many of them, but they wouldn’t do much to the majority of parahumans. All of which begged the question: what were we dealing with? What sort of creature made a home in an abandoned carnival, tried to scare off intruders with stabbings, and then resorted to murder by impromptu firing squad?
I’m not especially proud of how long it took me to snap to this realization, but as I said earlier, spending so much time around other parahumans has a tendency to color the way one sees the world. “I think . . . I think they’re humans, Bubba. Just regular, run-of-the-mill humans. Or maybe I should say criminals? People who turned this place into a gang hideout.”
Bubba stared at me, then tilted his head back and took a long, careful breath. “Son of a bitch. That ain’t the smell of no damn cleaner. These assholes are cooking meth.”
While it took substantial willpower, I resisted asking exactly how Bubba could recognize that scent so readily as he craned his head up and shouted. “Richard! They’re just a bunch of meth-cookers using regular bullets.”
“Seriously?” Richard looked to us, then over to one of the shooters who was wearing a bear mask. They were angling their firearms down, leaning over the top of the booth’s counters to get a line of sight on us, preparing to shoot while we were on the ground. “Oh. Well that makes this a lot easier.”
I can’t tell you exactly what motions Richard made, as his movements were too fast for even my eyes to follow. I just saw him press his hands to the ground, grin a mouthful of sharp teeth, and bolt forward into the booth where Bear Mask was taking aim. There was a brief scream from inside, which stopped without either warning or climax. The dirty mask was tossed over the counter, bouncing along the ground in plain view of the other attackers. Only now, it was almost completely covered in blood.
Instantly, the mood around us shifted. Guns that had been brazenly waved about were suddenly pulled in closer, and people standing out in the open shrank back. They were turning defensive on instinct, having just seen something unnatural, bordering on impossible. Right now, their understanding of what was real was at war with the sight before their eyes. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go, and they knew it. If they hadn’t just tried to kill us, I probably would have felt genuinely bad for them.
When Richard rose back into view, his mouth was smeared in blood, a red circle around rows of teeth too big and sharp for any human. Tufts of fur ran down his face and arms, down to hands which ended in long, serrated claws stained vermillion. As Bubba rose from the ground next to me, I kept staring. Being around Richard the father and friend—the kind, oversized man I was used to—it was easy to forget just how terrifying he truly was when the situation demanded it. Richard was an alpha therian who’d earned and held his position at the top of his tribe through no one’s strength but his own. It wasn’t the first time his fangs and claws had been coated in blood, nor did I have any illusions it would be the last. Now, I really did feel sorry for our assailants.
One of the criminals in a rabbit mask started to tilt their gun toward him, and Richard let out a roar that made the man shriek and draw back. Even if he consciously still thought he could win, his instincts knew to draw back from the sound of an angry lion. The rest cowered, save for Cat Mask, who seemed to be watching it all unfold warily. He knew the situation was dangerous; however, he’d yet to give in to his fear. I got to my feet next to Bubba, keeping my eye on him. No need to take pointless chances and let him surprise us.
“You poor, stupid bastards.” Richard’s voice was deep and gruff, closer to animal than human. His whole body was tense, poised to strike at a moment’s provocation. “You really have no idea who you’ve fucked with tonight. I’ll give you one chance, and one chance only. Toss your guns into the midway and
lay down on the counters. We’re going to call . . . I guess they’d be our version of the police, and they’ll turn you over to the regular cops. Eventually. If anyone doesn’t like that proposal, then feel free to try something.” His tongue, now inhumanly long, stretched out and licked the blood from around his mouth.
“I’m still plenty hungry enough for the rest of you.”
The sound of metal hitting concrete filled the air as guns clattered down in the midway. I knew enough to be aware that dropping a firearm didn’t actually discharge it, yet I still winced a little every time one landed. Some ideas from movies are harder to root out than others. While the guns rained to the ground, I kept my eye on Cat Mask, noticing he’d yet to surrender his. After a moment, I realized that his face was turned in my direction as well. Right . . . he thought he’d stabbed me. Well, I mean he had stabbed me, but he’d expected me to stay stabbed. Although I could never be as terrifying as Richard, I could still make sure this man knew he was dealing with beings outside his realm of understanding. With a wide smile showing off my fangs, I carefully lifted my shirt and sweater vest, displaying the now completely healed and unblemished skin.
“Monsters.” The voice was less composed than the body language, shaky terror replacing the authority he’d spoken with before. “No, there’s no such thing as monsters.” Cat Mask lifted his gun, unsteady as his hand was, and pointed it at me. “We just made a bad batch, guys. That’s all this is. We’re seeing shit. They noticed, and they’re bluffing us.”
“I seriously urge you to take us up on the chance to surrender.” Bubba’s voice was surprisingly gentle, given the situation. I noticed that he’d tucked his plastic flask out of sight once more. “This is already not endin’ well for any of you, but life is long. One day, you might turn yourself around and discover some happiness in the world. Fire that gun, and you ain’t never gettin’ the chance to find out.”
They were sound words of advice, and as Cat Mask kept his gun trained on me, I dearly hoped he’d listen to them. If he pulled that trigger, I’d be fine, but Richard would undoubtedly be on him before the recoil was finished. Cat Mask didn’t understand that the person he was really holding the gun on was himself. We stood like that, silent, waiting to see what choice he made. Then a new voice rang out, shattering the silence and changing the situation entirely.
“Daddy?”
All eyes moved to the edge of the midway. Sally was standing there, looking over at her father with worry and confusion. And unfortunately, I do mean all eyes, including those of Cat Mask, who swung both his attention and his weapon in her direction.
6.
All of us were moving, dashing, as fast as we could. I dimly heard the tear of canvas and snap of wood as Richard plowed through the booth he was in without being slowed by even an instant. There was no discussion or thought, only a mad race to reach Cat Mask before his arm finished its journey. While it’s true that—and upon looking back, it’s easy to realize that his movements may have been reactionary—there was no guarantee he planned to shoot, and even if he had, Sally was a therian as well. But none of that entered my, and I presume the others’ minds at the time. The only thing we understood or saw was a gun moving in the direction of a child, and we moved our bodies with all we had to stop it.
None of us were fast enough, however, and that includes Cat Mask. The weapon’s muzzle was just approaching Sally’s general direction when it vanished, along with Cat Mask’s hand and a big chunk of his forearm. I heard a thud from behind the midway, one that I had a firm guess was the gun and limb in question landing, and then Gideon appeared.
He stood between Sally and Cat Mask, the barest flecks of blood visible on his nails. I was a little surprised the criminal wasn’t screaming in pain, and then I noticed that I couldn’t actually hear any noise coming from the booth he was in, even as he grabbed his stump of an arm and stomped about. Of course. Gideon was magically silencing him for the same reason he’d tossed the arm out of sight. He didn’t want Sally to see or hear such things.
“You dare point a weapon at her? Make no mistake, pitiful creature, I have woven so many spells and protections around her that even another dragon would struggle to do her harm, yet for you to even attempt such a thing is a dire insult. An insult to me, which is bad, and to her, which is infinitely worse.”
Unlike Richard, Gideon wasn’t trying to be scary. He was calm, detached even, looking at Cat Mask and the other criminals as if they were no more concern than garbage in his path. In a way, that was much more terrifying than Richard’s performance. I knew too well that Gideon could kill everyone in this carnival—hell, everyone in the state—with little effort and even less remorse. The only person I’d seen him show any concern or care for was Sally, and they’d just turned a gun on her. In that moment, I knew that Cat Mask had just gotten his entire gang killed. Richard might have been willing to let them be turned over to the cops, but Gideon wasn’t nearly so kind-hearted.
As it turned out though, someone else was.
“Gideon, no.” Sally reached out and grabbed him by the arm, yanking him back over in her direction. There was a surprising amount of authority in her voice; it was easy to see that she was indeed her father’s daughter. “They didn’t hurt me. Daddy and Bubba and Fred look okay, too. No blood. Not tonight. Don’t ruin the carnival.”
Gideon met her eyes, nodding over to the booth where Cat Mask was still silently stomping about. “That man would have happily done harm to you, your father, and his servants. The air reeks of bullets and gun smoke; that was the noise we heard earlier. They are bad people, Sally.”
She crossed her arms and stared him down, refusing to budge an inch on the issue. “Everyone has good in them. No blood, Gideon. If you do, I won’t . . . I won’t talk to you or play with you for a whole week.”
I genuinely had no idea what reaction to expect from such an ultimatum, but to my surprise, the ancient dragon tilted his head back and let out a genuine laugh. He was smiling as he finished, and he reached over, bringing Sally in close. Gently, he rested his forehead against hers, though his few extra inches of height meant he was leaning slightly to do so.
“My leardrun, you truly are too kind-hearted for this detestable world. But I cannot abide such punishment, so I have no choice in the matter. As you desire, no blood.” His eyes darted down to the crimson stain on his nails. “No more blood, anyway. Yet these are still criminals. Will you at least permit me to restrain them until the agents arrive?”
“You won’t hurt them?” Sally asked.
“Not so much as a scratch or a bruise. Words, only words, with perhaps a bit of magic to ensure my orders are truly heard. You have my promise.” Gideon lifted his head up and slowly moved away from Sally. Once they were parted, he turned to the midway, where a gang of criminals in dirty animals masks looked like they didn’t know if they should bolt, void their bladders, or beg for mercy. There really wasn’t a wrong option in the situation: none of it would have mattered to Gideon. His punishment for their sins would be carried out no matter what.
“Humans. Pitiful, useless humans with lives as short as the flicker of a candle, be at ease. You will survive to see another sunrise. Her mercy has spared your pointless lives, so gather the few years remaining to you and clutch them close. They are a gift, given to you in spite of what you’ve done here. Use them well, greet every morning with the knowledge that your days were meant to end tonight, here in this battered old carnival.”
Gideon had moved to the center of the midway, every eye upon him. I wasn’t sure I could have looked away, even if I wanted to. His lavender irises were shining brightly, too brightly, and occasionally, I would catch glimpses of his shadow from the poorly burning bulbs of the carnival. Sometimes, it was the shadow of a child, but sometimes, often for only the span of a blink, it was something else. Something vast, and old, that made my eyes ache to look upon for even less than a heartbeat. From the booths, I could hear tears and sniffling. Be
hind those masks, the criminals were weeping. Not in joy; their hearts were racing much too fast. It was more like they were staring death in the eye, crying in terror at their utter helplessness. And that was the moment I understood that we were only getting part of the show. The humans were experiencing a speech that was worlds more potent, and horrifying.
“But with that gratitude, you should also greet each day fearfully.” Gideon was getting louder, his eyes brighter. I couldn’t look away, yet it hurt every second I watched him. “Tonight, you have learned the truth of the world. You now know why your ancestors flocked to the first fire, trying so hard to fend back the darkness. For it is not empty shadows as you’ve trained yourself to believe. You have regained the truth that your kind has fought so hard to deny: there are monsters in the darkness, waiting for the moment that you step away from the light. Remember that, when your time in cells is over and you’re tempted to slink back to another shaded hole like this one. Remember that there are worse things than humans who have stepped off the righteous path. Remember the nightmares who drove your kind toward the light in the first place. And remember me, above all else. Remember the beast with gnashing jaws and scaly hide, who rules over these shadowlands, devouring lesser nightmares. I will be watching, waiting, to see if you dirty her kindness with more wicked acts. And if you do, there is no force that can save you, pitiful, worthless humans.”
Gideon paused, letting a moment of silence wash over us all. He was smiling again, though this was nothing like the kind grin he’d shown Sally. Once, for a brief time, Gideon and I had been magically connected, and perhaps because of that, I could see too much in his smile. Millennia of blood, battle, war, pain, loss, and suffering, all of which he’d borne. There was no hubris in his words. He was a nearly unstoppable being, bound only by his pride and promises. As well as a single friendship to a small therian child.
