The Circus Infinitus - Victoria 7

by Ethan Somerville

  He stared for a minute. He frowned. “Bastard’s blocking me! There’s no call for that!” He slapped the crystal ball, almost sending it flying across the camp. “I swear he gets more mistrustful with each passing year!”

  “Who?”

  “Oh, just some mage I know in London. He would have been able to help, but he’s not very communicative at the moment.” He polished the ball again. “It looks like I’ll have to do this the hard way.” He peered intently into the glass again. “It is difficult me to see your path directly, because your amulet is protecting you, but I can see into the future this area … you do leave it eventually.”

  “Eventually? How eventually?”

  He looked up at me. “I’m sorry Lady Hollingworth, but you will be here for a while yet. However, one day in the future, your salvation will arrive in a most unusual guise.”

  “What? Can you be a little clearer?”

  He lifted a bony finger. “To know the future is to become a slave to it. I cannot give you any more advice than that. But when you see your chance, no matter how bizarre you think it is, take it, otherwise you will end up like your mother, stuck here forever.”

  I gulped. “Alright. Thank you Dimitri.” I gathered my skirts and got up.

  Chapter Nine

  Not long after the gypsies left, their caravans clean and in good repair, my lawyer Mr Crimpley died at the ripe old age of 87. Even though he had found me numerous trustworthy retainers, and his young successor Billingsgate would do whatever I wanted, I still felt alone and adrift. Only in my human form did I really grieve. In my various other forms I was quick to occupy myself by hunting, fishing, spinning, and studying.

  Although Billingsgate was loyal, he wasn’t nearly as good a lawyer as Crimpley had been. He started losing money and as a result my estates began to fall into disrepair. I lost several good servants when a part of an outer wall crumbled down during a storm and buried them. A couple more drowned while digging drainage canals out in the fens. Penny had managed to survive to ripe old age, dying peacefully in her sleep at age 78, but consumption took her poor daughter Liza in her mid forties. Although several of my forms were powerful enough to beguile new servants into staying, I actually had to find these people first!

  A real problem when the only town I could reach, Oak Fens, wasn’t large enough to attract travellers I could influence. For a while locals came to help me out, but they aged and died and people began to forget about me, out there in the wilderness. The road to my property became lost and overgrown. Weeds and trees began to grow over it. Soon rumours started that Hollingworth Manor was haunted by my spirit. It certainly looked abandoned; walls blackened and falling down, bits of the roof caved in and gone, vines growing wild all over whatever was still standing, windows broken and boarded up … and rattling around inside, Lady Violet Hollingworth.

  Of course, six days out of seven I could cope. There was always something as the Wolf Woman or the Vampire that I could hunt. By this stage large portions of the fens may have been drained, but there were still extensive ponds where I, as the Swamp Girl could fish. As the Spider Queen I continued to spin my enormous and intricate webs, each one more beautiful than the last. I wished I could have pictures of the more fantastic designs. And as Amuna and the Brilliant One, I continued my research. I read and memorized every book I could get my hands on, and finally mastered the Art of Magick, using my simple, new found spells to hold the worst of the house’s entropy at bay. I kept enough rooms intact and dry for my invisible human self.

  But on that one day in seven, when I was really myself, I wandered alone through the draughty, unsafe rooms and wondered where my life had gone. How had I managed to lose my grip on everything? Not even my mother had let everything slide into such ruin. But then, she’d had me to help. I had been her eyes and ears on the outside, keeping in touch with old family friends and relatives.

  I began to despair of ever escaping. Dimly, I remembered what old Dimitri had told me. Had he simply been humouring me? He had laughed so much – had all those theatrics with the crystal ball simply been show? Was I doomed to disappear beneath the rubble of my disintegrating house?

  During an extreme moment of despair I wondered if as the invisible woman I could actually die. This form, apart from having no appearance, had no special abilities. Could I throw myself from the roof and break my neck? Could I walk into one of the ponds and drown myself? Would my curse allow me to die? I wondered if my mother had attempted to seek death.

  One rainy spring afternoon I stared out of my dusty bedroom window and wondered if I should try to end my cursed existence. In some of my other forms I accepted and even enjoyed my situation, but right now I was lost. But the Vampiress wanted to leave and explore the world beyond, a world that was slowly passing us by. Each day I heard the whistle of a train roaring by several miles to the west and wished I was on it. Could the new transportation help me to survive? Surely it would be possible for me to travel?

  But then, as always, I would remember the Swamp Girl, and how she could only survive for perhaps one hour outside of water before her skin started to dry out and itch uncontrollably. If not for her, I would have left years ago.

  On this miserable day that perfectly matched my mood, I walked out into the rain, heading for the nearest pond. I just wanted to feel what it would be like to walk out into the cold water, feel it slowly surround me. Would it become warm like a soothing blanket as it slowly carried me away from my life?

  Drizzle soon soaked me to the skin, but I didn’t care. I was too sad to be worried about the discomfort of the weather. Perhaps, after this icy deluge, the pool really would be warmer.

  I stopped at the edge of the pond and looked down into the water. I couldn’t see anything beneath the ripples created by raindrops. The bottom could have been anything from one to fifty feet down. I stepped forward and dipped the toe of my scuffed old boot into the water. I couldn’t feel anything, so I moved forward until my foot struck a gently sloping bottom and sank into the mud. Slowly the water began to seep into my shoe. It was cold, but not freezing. I could bear it. All I had to do was wade out as far as I could, hopefully out of my depth, lie back and close my eyes.

  It would be like falling asleep. Ophelia had done it, so surely I could too.

  I took a deep breath, building my courage. Alright, here goes.

  It was then I noticed the music.

  A few light, joyful notes, floating on the wind.

  Where on Earth was that coming from? It sounded like it had been created for the sole purpose to make people happy.

  But there was no-one around for miles. Out here in the wilderness, I was alone. These days, completely and utterly alone. Only the spells of my smart form kept my human one going. But sometimes I became too engrossed in my research and forgot to cast them, and then, when I transformed into a human once more, I had to go out foraging for food.

  As the Wolf Woman and Swamp Girl, I tried to stockpile leftovers for my human self, but a different form usually ended up consuming it before I reappeared. Sometimes I did find chunks of meat and fish, but they were usually tough and rancid. Once I made myself deathly ill and spent the following three times in my human form throwing up partially digested, partially visible meat.

  A truly disturbing experience, and one that had also contributed to my wish for death.

  But now I stood with one foot in the lake, frozen by that bizarre music. I realised I couldn’t continue with my suicide plan until my curiosity had been satisfied.

  It was what had saved me.

  I pulled my boot out of the mud and cast about, trying to search for the source of the soft strains. I thought they were coming from the west, the road that led to my isolated little parcel of land. I remembered that the gypsies had liked to play music, and wondered if they had returned. But it didn’t sound like their style, more … mechanical.

  Could some weird newfangled device be responsible that wonderful sound? I wondered as I stepped back fro
m the lake. I turned and headed towards my overgrown road. I had to push my way through weeds, trees and bushes. No-one had come this way for so long the road was virtually gone, only a few half-buried cobblestones still visible.

  The cheerful music grew louder. Then, through the press of trees I saw bright stripes of red and white. What on Earth? Carefully I parted the foliage for a better look.

  On the broad field just outside the entrance to my property, a carnival had set up. It looked like it had been there a while, all the caravans, tents and attractions fully erected and open for business. Despite the miserable weather, there were a lot of locals about; judging by the number of people the whole town of Oak Fens had shown up, plus others from villages further afield.

  I couldn’t remember the last time a carnival had come to Oak Fens. Of course the locals hosted their own spring and harvest festivals, but these usually consisted of one giant tent crammed with drinkers, a local man who fancied himself a bit of a juggler, a couple of drunks telling tall tales, and the token village idiot to provide entertainment by attempting acrobatics and invariably falling flat on his face.

  I had never seen anything like this. One big tent rose from the centre of quite a collection of smaller ones. There was something odd about it, and it took me a couple of minutes to figure it out. That giant tent seemed solid underneath, as though the red and white canvas covered an actual building. Three large black chimneys rose from the back, issuing smoke.

  This was becoming stranger by the minute. I wanted to creep out for a better look, and had to adjust the scarf over my face so it covered my features completely. Fortunately it was the thin one I could see through. I pulled my hat low and stepped out onto the churned up ground.

  The music I’d heard was indeed coming from some sort of machine on wheels, containing little mechanical figures that danced and cavorted. Acrobats and jugglers performed around it. A man in a tail coat and top hat strolled past on stilts, as swiftly and easily as though the stilts were actually extensions of his own legs. Another carnie wandered past on his hands. Local children laughed and clapped. Other kids clustered around a Punch and Judy show that looked a lot more violent then the ones I remembered from Brighton. A couple of children stared at me as I passed, probably wondering why I was covered up. Did they think I was one of the performers?

  I stopped, something occurring to me. In a blinding flash of realization, I wondered if I could be a part of this travelling show. If only it had a tank or something I could lie in when I was the Swamp Girl! Who could I speak to about this? Who was in charge of this bizarre place?

  I noticed a couple of large gentlemen wandering about, dressed like carnies but who seemed to exude a powerful presence of authority. One was at least six foot six in height, wearing some sort of long-nosed mask and helmet. He was dressed in a long grey overcoat with a high collar, and carried a formidable looking blade with jagged edges slung across his back. His companion, although smaller and skinner, only six feet tall, wore crossed bandoliers of bullets across his scarred bare chest and a pair of the nastiest, most formidable blunderbusses strapped to his thighs. They were covered with cogs, dials and cables.

  These two seemed to be keeping an eye on the place, making sure no-one was causing trouble. I wondered if I ought to approach them – they looked pretty scary. But then again – so did I.

  I took a deep breath and walked up to them. “Um, excuse me,” I said in a voice that was a bit too high-pitched and squeaky for my liking.

  Both men turned around. The smaller one wore a cat-mask covering the top part of his face, with thin slits cut out for eyes. All I could see through the slits was a weird yellow glow, like flickering flames. If he was surprised by my covered face, he gave no sign. Instead he grinned. His teeth were yellow and pointed like fangs. “What can we do for you, ma’am?” he asked in a broad cockney accent that could only have come from the depths of one of London’s slums.

  “Er well, I was wondering if I could perhaps speak to someone in charge?” I decided to get straight to the point, and pulled down the scarf to reveal the hollow where my face should have been.

  This time the carnie jumped back. “Blimey! I thought I had no bloody face, but you take the biscuit!” To prove his own point he lifted his cat-mask, showing me the two gaping holes where his eyes should have been. Instead, tiny yellow flames burned within.

  To my credit I didn’t falter from the horrible sight. After all, I had seen a lot of horrible things myself and until a few minutes earlier, I’d been about to kill myself. “Actually, I’m completely invisible. “All you can see are my clothes. But that’s only part of what I can do. Only one seventh of my abilities.”

  “Jesus Christ!” blasphemed the carnie. “Stay with her, Steamsaw. The Ringmaster has got to see this!” He raced off.

  I looked up at the enormous man called Steamsaw. “Er, hello,” I ventured nervously, wondering what on Earth I was getting myself into, associating with these people.

  But I had already come to the conclusion that, after seriously contemplating suicide in one of my own fens, that I couldn’t sink much lower.

  Steamsaw didn’t say anything. He simply tipped his helmet to me. He probably couldn’t talk through that heavy mask. I wondered how he could even breathe in that thing.

  It didn’t take the other carnie long to return. He came with another fellow in tow; quite possibly the most impressive man I had ever seen. Although he wasn’t as tall as Steamsaw, he exuded a presence so powerful I felt it even before I could get a good look at him. He wore a long black cloak and matching top hat that shadowed his face. Beneath the brim a pair of catlike blue eyes shone as bright as sapphires. He had skin so smooth and pale it was like a porcelain doll’s, and when he looked down at me his gaze seemed to pierce my very soul.

  But then the mysterious eyes widened in surprise at something. Was it the sight of my invisible face? Surely he had spotted that already. No, something else about me had disturbed him.

  His shock was short lived. He smiled, revealing a set of the cleanest, whitest teeth I had ever seen, and gave a bow. “My name is Adam Delfay and this is the Circus Infinitus. I am the Ringmaster here.

  I curtsied. “I’m Lady Violet Hollingworth, of Hollingworth Manor.”

  “Hollingworth Manor?” He frowned. “I’ve heard locals talk of a ruined house around here.”

  “It has fallen into disrepair somewhat, Mr. Delfay.” I pointed in the direction I’d come from. “The road is overgrown and the house very tumbledown. But there are some intact rooms where I live.”

  “They also said the house was haunted.”

  “Yes it is in a way - by me … and my six other selves.” I pulled open the collar of my coat so he could see the necklace, apparently hanging in thin air. “It is my curse.”

  He stared. “You seem to have quite a fascinating story to tell, Lady Hollingworth, and I’d dearly love to hear it, but we really should go somewhere drier and more comfortable first.”

  I bobbed another curtsey. “Oh yes, of course, Mr. Delfay.”

  “Thank you Busboy, Steamsaw,” he nodded to the carnies, and then offered me his arm. I couldn’t remember the last time a handsome man had offered me his arm. He led me across the grounds towards the enormous big tent. I noticed a ticket box with a poster on the side, advertising that the first big show would be starting tomorrow. Had this circus only just shown up? It looked like it had been here for days already. It seemed to exude an aura of ... permanency.

  The Big Tent really was a building beneath a damp canvas shroud. Again I wondered how this outfit moved around. Surely such an enormous structure would take weeks to set up? I noticed odd cables trailing from the main structure to other stalls, tents and caravans around the place. They had been run around the backs of the smaller buildings and conveyances, but occasionally people still had to step over to get around.

  Then the Ringmaster Mr. Delfay led me up some steel stairs and into the building. I was immediately overwhelmed
by all the solid steel girders, supporting the tiers of seats where the audience would sit. A large opening directly in front of me led to a stage with a red velvet curtain hanging at the back. I could only see a few figures moving around, cleaning up and preparing for the upcoming shows. On either side of me, under the rows of seats, ran two passages that led off to various enclosed rooms.

  There was no way a structure like this had been set up in only a day. The way all those struts and girders had joined together, with those enormous iron bolts, would take weeks to pull apart.

  The Ringmaster led me into a large, roomy chamber, equipped with chairs, table, four-poster bed and desk for correspondence. “Please, take a seat.” He gestured with one gloved hand towards a spare chair.

  I sat.

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” He crossed over to a sideboard where a large, steaming pot stood on a hot plate. Dear Lord, did he have his own stove in here? I could see he had his own sink, complete with hot and cold taps. I began to feel a little dizzy at the sight of so much machinery. Not even my draughty old house had hot and cold running water. I still had to go down to the well to fetch my daily buckets.

  “Y-yes please,” I managed.

  He poured us both steaming hot cups of what was the finest Ceylon tea I had ever tasted. For a few minutes I was content to enjoy my brew. It was very cosy in here, and I wondered where the warmth was coming from.

  Mr. Delfay sat opposite. “My dear Lady Hollingworth, I have heard rumours of your house amongst the locals. They believe some sort of strange spirit lives there, which has the ability to alter its form.”

  “That’s me, Mr. Delfay. I am the dark spirit, also known as the Lady with the Seven Faces. Although technically, it should be six faces. This one has no form at all.” I lifted my hands to my cheeks again. “But this one is my most human by far. My other forms are far more bizarre and…” I lowered my gaze, even though I did not need to, “I believe might of benefit to your, er … establishment.”