by Tom Becker
In the meantime, Mountebank had placed the box containing the Stone on a ledge by the central cylinder. “Prepare to be dazzled!” he exclaimed, and pulled a lever jutting out of the engine parts.
There was a loud grinding sound, and the cogs began to turn. Jonathan felt his mount wobble and then shoot forward at surprising speed. As the ride started to revolve, he looked over his shoulder and saw Mountebank leap neatly on to a gnarled goblin travelling in the opposite direction.
Jonathan was just getting accustomed to the movement of the carousel when there was a rumbling noise beneath him. He looked down to see the wooden platform sliding back, revealing a pit of sharpened stakes. The pit was too wide for him to be able to jump off the ride and back on to the safety of solid ground. An icy feeling settled in Jonathan’s stomach: he was trapped.
Mountebank was heading towards him, cackling with laughter.
“No getting off now!” he cackled as he swept past, and flung out his arms.
Suddenly a raven was flapping around Jonathan’s head, pecking and clawing at his face. As the black wings beat about his head, Jonathan let go of the metal pole and held up his hands to protect himself. He felt a sharp talon slice his cheek, and a trickle of warm blood ran down his face. Crying out in pain, he flailed his arms about and managed to catch the bird a glancing blow, nearly overbalancing in the process. The raven cawed in protest and flew off into the night. Jonathan grabbed the pole in both hands again, breathing heavily.
“That was just for starters!” Mountebank called out, above the clatter of the machinery. “Now the fun really begins!”
There was a blast of steam and a loud whirring sound. Before Jonathan could react, a circular saw swung down from the ceiling, its serrated edges shining in the lights, and ploughed into the empty mount next to him. The saw bit into the wood with a high-pitched squeal, sending a spray of splinters over Jonathan. With a final triumphant scream, it sliced through the mount and swung back up to the ceiling. Jonathan went numb with terror. If he had been sitting there, he would have been sawn in half.
The ride continued its infernal progress, to a backing of clanking machinery and the never-ending record of shouts and screams. All around Jonathan mounts were falling by the wayside. In front of him the metal pole holding up a fat goblin simply detached itself from the ceiling, sending the mount crashing down into the pit. As he passed it Jonathan couldn’t help but look down, and saw the goblin skewered on the razor-sharp spikes. He wasn’t the only one having a close shave. A bright-red imp next to Mountebank suddenly exploded in a fireball, forcing the magician to duck out of the way.
There were only five or six mounts left now, including Jonathan’s and Mountebank’s. From deep within the carousel’s mechanism, the gears ground again. The platform juddered and then suddenly began to revolve twice as fast as before. Jonathan clung on to his mount even more tightly as the fairground flashed past his eyes at dizzying speed.
“Not long now!” Mountebank screamed, with an insane cackle.
Jonathan felt a hot blast of steam upon his neck and heard a telltale whirring noise directly above his head. His time had come: the saw was coming for his mount now. Mountebank loomed into view, laughing manically, and Jonathan realized that the last thing he would see would be the magician’s celebrations. He was almost within touching distance now. . .
As the saw swung down from the ceiling, Jonathan hurled himself from the hellhound on to Mountebank’s mount, managing to grab hold of the pole and swing one leg over the goblin’s head. The magician’s expression turned from one of triumph to horror.
“Get off!” Mountebank yelled. “You’re too heavy! You’ll kill us both!”
As the goblin shuddered with the extra weight, the magician hurled a handful of powder in Jonathan’s face. Jonathan’s eyes began to burn as if they were on fire. Temporarily blinded, he swung an elbow and felt it connect with the magician’s face. Mountebank screamed and clutched his nose.
The goblin listed violently beneath them, dropping closer to the pit of spikes. Tears streaming down his face, Jonathan looked around furiously for an escape. The only other remaining mount was swinging around towards them, behind Mountebank’s back. He had only one shot of reaching it, and he had to ensure that the magician was occupied. Only one plan came to mind – the oldest trick in the book.
Jonathan looked over Mountebank’s shoulder and shouted “Carnegie!” at the top of his voice, his eyes wide with relief.
The magician’s head whirled instinctively round, only to see no sign of the wereman. Taking advantage of the Mountebank’s distraction, Jonathan pushed himself off the goblin and leapfrogged on to the passing mount.
“Now that’s misdirection!” he called out, as his mount flew away.
Mountebank moaned with horror as the goblin broke off from its pole and fell down into the pit. The magician leapt upwards, his hands desperately reaching out for something to hang on to. He nearly made it. His hand brushed the ceiling but no more, and with a final, echoing wail, the albino tumbled down into the pit of spikes.
Jonathan slumped against his mount, fighting the urge to be sick. With only one rider left, the machinery clicked into a lower gear and the spinning motion began to slow down. The platform slid out and recovered the pit, sealing the mangled body of Mountebank the Magnificent in a spiky tomb. And with that, the Melee-Go-Round came to a stop.
Jonathan stepped down from his mount and walked over to the central core, his legs shaking like jelly. He picked the box up from the ledge and carried it off the ride. As he stepped off the carousel and on to safe ground his legs gave way, and he collapsed on to the grass. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a movement at the entrance to the Big Top, and then Carnegie striding across the ground between them. The wereman loomed over him, eyeing him warily.
“That was one of the craziest things I’ve ever seen. You are certifiable.” He crouched down. “You all right, boy?”
Jonathan looked up. “I dunno. I’m alive, I guess.”
“Mountebank?”
“He’s dead.”
“Are you sure?”
Jonathan nodded. The wereman patted him on the shoulder.
“Come on. Let’s get this box inside the Big Top. Seeing as you’ve risked your life for the Stone, I don’t want Vendetta getting any ideas about cheating us on the handover.”
Carnegie scooped up the box in one hairy hand and hauled Jonathan up with the other. They only just managed to store the box in time. As Jonathan emerged from the Big Top, he saw, in the distance, two headlights cutting through the fairground, and the sound of a spluttering engine came into earshot. It belonged to the only car in Darkside. It belonged to Vendetta.
27
As the car drew nearer, Jonathan wearily gathered himself for one final effort. The ride on the Melee-Go-Round and the fight with Mountebank had taken almost everything out of him, but he knew that the danger was far from over.
As the car pulled up to the clearing in front of the Big Top, Jonathan saw Vendetta behind the wheel, clad in a long leather coat and driving goggles. Marianne was lounging in the seat next to him, shocking yellow hair flowing out behind her. At first glance they looked like a well-to-do Victorian couple out for a drive in the country, but when they drove into the torchlight Jonathan saw that Marianne was carrying a pistol in each hand, and there was a bloodstain smeared across Vendetta’s cheek.
The back seat of the car was taken up by Marianne’s bodyguards, the giant mute Humble and the bustling, hyperactive Skeet. On seeing Carnegie they reached down and pulled out long-barrelled rifles, training them on the wereman. The final occupant of the car, sandwiched in between Humble and Skeet, was Mrs Elwood. She looked haggard, and there were dark rings beneath her eyes, but she was alive.
Jonathan cried out with relief and ran towards her. “Mrs Elwood!” he called out. “Are you OK?”
She nodded quickly, her face drawn. Vendetta killed the engine and waved Jonathan back. “I wouldn’t get too close if I were you, Starling,” he warned, removing his goggles. “You wouldn’t want one of us to get nervous and start firing, would you? Who knows who might get injured?”
Biting his lip, Jonathan took a pace back. The vampire stepped down from the car and headed round to the passenger side, where he proffered his hand to Marianne. The bounty hunter gracefully accepted, and stepped lightly down on to the grass. She was wearing an ankle-length gown that covered her arms and neck, and matched the colour of her hair. Catching sight of Jonathan, she favoured him with a beaming smile.
“I knew it!” she exclaimed. “Didn’t I tell you, Vendetta? I don’t care what that two-penny magician says, it’ll be Jonathan who turns up in the end? Didn’t I say that, boys?”
Humble and Skeet nodded solemnly from the back seat.
“It appears your faith in the boy is never-ending,” Vendetta retorted sharply. “I can’t express how happy I am you’ve been proven right.” He glared at Jonathan. “I was informed that you’d be taken care of. That’s another bet you’ve lost me, Starling. I trust that Mountebank is dead?”
“Put it this way,” Carnegie growled, stepping forward. “He won’t be doing any more card tricks.”
Skeet jumped up in his seat and cocked his rifle.
“Muzzle your dog or I’ll have him neutered,” Marianne snapped, her playful air vanishing instantly.
“Wait! It’s OK!” Jonathan leapt in, fearing Carnegie was about to lose his temper. He pushed the wereman back. “Look, we don’t want any trouble. All we want is to get Mrs Elwood back, and that’s it.”
Vendetta raised an eyebrow. “Which brings us neatly on to the most important question of the evening. You may have killed the magician, but do you have the Crimson Stone?”
Jonathan jerked a thumb towards the Big Top. “It’s in there.”
Marianne glanced at Humble. “We’re going inside. You two take care of the lady as arranged, yes?” She turned to Jonathan. “Any funny business in there and your friend dies, understand?”
Jonathan nodded and pushed his way through the entrance flap and into the Big Top. Huge rents in the canvas roof exposed the night. A moveable stage had been wheeled into the centre of the sawdust ring. Mountebank’s blue, star-spangled box was resting on a plinth on the stage, surrounded by a ring of candles.
Raquella was sitting in the audience waiting for them. She nodded at Jonathan as he entered the tent, and then curtsied briskly as Vendetta strode in behind him. The vampire ignored her, his gaze transfixed on the box. He walked over to the stage and ran a hand over it, his eyes gleaming.
“Do you have any idea,” he said softly, in a voice thick with desire, “how long I have waited to have this stone in my possession?”
“Then don’t keep us waiting any longer,” Marianne called out. “Open the box!”
The atmosphere in the Big Top crackled with tension as Vendetta unfastened the latches on the box. Even Carnegie leant forward. As the vampire snapped the lid open, the sides of the box toppled backwards like a house of cards, revealing no Crimson Stone, no priceless gem, no glittering treasure of any sort. In fact, the box was completely empty.
There was a pause as the onlookers struggled to digest this fact. Then Vendetta grabbed Jonathan’s arm and shook him violently.
“Is . . . this . . . a joke?” The vampire was so angry that he struggled to get the words out.
“No!” Jonathan cried, completely bewildered. “I swear . . . Mountebank told us the Stone was in the box . . . He must have hidden it somewhere else.”
Vendetta didn’t release his grip. His eyes narrowed.
“Did you think we’d just walk away with the box without checking? Did you think you could free your friend and keep hold of the Crimson Stone? Tell me, Starling, did you get greedy?”
“No – I promise! I don’t know where the Stone is! I thought it was here!”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
“Oh, put the boy down, Vendetta,” Marianne drawled. “You’re too busy rattling him to think. Look at him – he’s gawping like a goldfish. He’s just as surprised as you are. And Jonathan’s hardly the type to gamble with a friend’s life. He’s only half-Darksider, remember.”
Vendetta flashed her a dangerous look. Marianne sardonically batted her eyelashes back at him, utterly unfazed.
“It seems,” the vampire said slowly, regaining his composure, “that this evening will not have a happy ending after all. Especially for your friend, Starling. You have failed to fulfil your side of our deal. I shall take particular pleasure draining the dwarf.”
“You even go near her. . .” Jonathan warned fiercely, as Carnegie flexed his claws.
They were interrupted by a peal of laughter from Marianne.
“I do love it so when you boys play rough. However, it’s not at all necessary. I told Humble to let the dwarf go when we came inside.”
“You did what?” Vendetta’s voice was as cold as a grave.
“I told him to let her go. I want the Stone, Vendetta, but I’m not about to butcher innocent women for it. There are limits, you know.”
“We were supposed to be a team,” the vampire said, through clenched teeth.
Marianne laughed incredulously. “You don’t know the meaning of the word. All this talk of how much you wanted the Stone, how you failed to get it. Well, see how much luck you have finding it now.”
“I see. This may be a moment you live to regret.”
Vendetta stiffly adjusted his leather coat and strode out, flashing Raquella a challenging gaze. “I shall expect you in the car presently.”
“As you wish, sir.”
“Raquella, no!” Jonathan cried, aghast. “You can’t go back to him. Not after all this!”
“I can, and I will,” she replied firmly. “This is why I came with you in the first place. This is what I want.”
“I don’t understand.”
Raquella gave him a sad smile. “No, I expect you don’t. Maybe one day I’ll get the chance to explain it to you.”
With a final grateful nod at Carnegie – who grinned wolfishly in return – Raquella hurried out of the Big Top. There came the sound of an engine coughing into life, and then the car moved away.
Marianne sighed with satisfaction and turned back to Jonathan. “All’s well that ends well, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’m not going to thank you for saving Mrs Elwood,” he replied defiantly. “This was all your fault in the first place.”
“Perhaps. But what was I supposed to do? I wanted the Crimson Stone, but there was no way I could get it from Xavier.” Marianne shuddered. “I hate spiders.”
“You knew!” Jonathan gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The bounty hunter airily waved a hand. “To be honest with you, it slipped my mind. I had complete faith in you, anyway.”
Carnegie growled softly. “You push too far, Ripper. One of these days you may fall over.”
“No doubt you’ll be there to catch me,” Marianne replied. “Until then. . .”
With a final twinkling smile, she was gone.
Outside, the heat was starting to evaporate in the night air. Jonathan raced over to Mrs Elwood and enveloped her in a fierce hug.
“I was so worried about you! I thought. . .”
“I know, Jonathan,” she replied, in a small voice, her arms wrapped around him. “It’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right now.”
“Come on,” Carnegie said, not unkindly. “Let’s get out of this place.”
As they left, Jonathan took a final look at the Big Top and shook his head.
“What is it, boy?” the wereman asked.
“I still don’t get it. We go through all that – fight Xavier and M
ountebank, nearly get killed – and the Crimson Stone just disappears. I didn’t even get to see it in the vault. I’m not sure if it was ever there at all. Maybe it is a myth.”
Carnegie chewed on an elongated fingernail thoughtfully. “If anyone could make the Stone disappear, it was Mountebank. He was a magician, after all.”
“I guess. Vendetta and Marianne aren’t going to stop looking for it, are they?”
“Let’s hope neither of them find it. If half of what they say about the Crimson Stone is true, it could make them even more dangerous than they are now. I think we can worry about that another time, though. What are you going to do now?”
Jonathan shrugged. “I guess first of all we try and find the rest of the Troupe and check that they’re all right. Then I should take Mrs Elwood back to Dad’s place.”
The wereman gave him a pointed look. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to go back to Lightside right now? Given what happened at the police station?”
“You know, I’d forgotten all about that.”
“Oh, Jonathan,” Mrs Elwood sighed. “What have you been up to now?”
“It’s a long story,” he replied. “It all started when I went back to see Dad. . .”
Epilogue
It was later, as the candles burned down to smouldering tips and the darkness reclaimed the Big Top, that there was a movement from beneath the stage and a figure emerged coughing and sneezing, a thick coating of dust in his hair.
Even now, Sam couldn’t quite believe he had pulled it off. Following Raquella to the fairground had been easy, and Mountebank had been too preoccupied battling Jonathan to notice his apprentice watching from behind the counter of the coconut shy. Sam couldn’t quite say why, following the magician’s death, he had raced round the back of the Big Top and slipped underneath the canvas. He wanted to know that Raquella was all right, but at the same time there was another reason, one that was harder to define – a strange feeling that it was his turn to take centre stage.
