The Ninth Nightmare

by Graham Masterton

  Xyrena said to Dom Magator, ‘They’ve caught us out, John.’

  ‘Yes, I get that. Just don’t panic.’

  ‘What shall we do? Zap ’em?’

  ‘No – not yet!’ Dom Magator cautioned her. ‘We need to take out this Grand Freak first. Without him, none of this would exist, so try to play along for now. An-Gryferai is airborne already, right above you, and me and Zebenjo’Yyx, we’re moving in to give you some close support. We won’t let you down, sweetheart, I promise you.’

  ‘I just don’t want them to cut my arms off or turn me into a schnauzer, that’s all.’

  ‘Trust me, Xyrena, not a chance of that.’

  Five burly circus hands in gray coveralls had come around from the rear of the big top, cutting off any chance of escape. Not that they wanted to escape: first of all they wanted to confront Brother Albrecht. Brown Jenkin tugged at Xyrena’s cloak and said, ‘Come on, then, ma belle! Up on the stage, you lovely nudie lady! You make me want to suck your breast buttons! You make me want to stick my fingers into your sticky pussy-pie!’

  Jekkalon said, ‘Xyrena – want me to fry the little bastard? Just say the word!’

  But Xyrena said, ‘No. We want to get your mom out of here, don’t we? And like Dom Magator said, we don’t know if they have any weapons, or some other way of defending themselves.’

  Inside their helmets, they heard Zebenjo’Yyx say, ‘Keep cool, OK? Me and the Dom, we’re right outside now. We’re only seconds away if you need us.’

  Xyrena, Jekkalon and Jemexxa followed Brown Jenkin as he bustled down the aisle toward the stage. The noise from the audience and the performers on the stage was deafening – shouting and whistling and clapping and stamping of feet. Jemexxa hesitated as they approached the apron, but the circus hands were right behind them, and one of them gave her backpack a shove.

  ‘Hey!’ Jekkalon protested, turning around and raising his fist; but Xyrena took hold of his arm and said, ‘Let it be, Jekkalon. You’ll have your turn.’

  Brown Jenkin led them up three steps on to the stage, and they were immediately surrounded by a mass of clowns and freaks and little people, all pushing at each other so they could touch them and prod them and pull at Xyrena’s cloak. In their Night Warriors outfits, they were just as much of a curiosity to the carnival folk as the carnival folk were to them. Jekkalon elbowed his way through them, although one dwarf retaliated by kicking him in the shin.

  ‘You little shit!’ Jekkalon shouted at him, but by then the dwarf had scrambled back into the crowd.

  ‘Over here, strangers!’ called Mago Verde, and beckoned them over to the black coach-contraption. Its black leather canopy was still tightly closed, so that it looked like a giant woodlouse. Xyrena walked across the stage first, with a seductive sway of her hips. Mago Verde eyed her up and down with his eyes glittering, twisting the ends of his hair between his fingers.

  ‘Well, well! And aren’t you something? Where have you appeared from, you temptress? What a crown you’re wearing! You look like the Queen of Someplace-or-Other.’

  Xyrena said nothing, but gave him a provocative smile.

  Mago Verde’s hand moved down and adjusted the crotch of his pants. Xyrena kept on smiling because she knew what effect she was having on him – the same effect that she had on everybody.

  ‘You’re not from here, are you?’ asked Mago Verde. He leaned closer to her, so that she could see the fine fissures in his green-and-gray greasepaint. She could even smell it, as well as stale tobacco, and his vinegary body odor. ‘In fact, you are the Queen of Someplace-or-Other, aren’t you? Here, and there. The Land of Awake and the Land of Fast Asleep.

  He paused, and then he said, ‘In fact – you’re not having this dream, are you, like all of these other poor suckers in the audience? You’re like me, aren’t you, honey-dripper? You’re just visiting. Except that – unlike me – you weren’t invited. Not by me, or Zachary, and not by Brother Albrecht, neither. So what in the name of all that’s unholy are you doing here?’

  Xyrena took two steps nearer to him, so that she could lay both of her hands on the dusty shoulders of his black suit.

  ‘You got wood, don’t you?’ she murmured.

  ‘What?’ He leaned his head forward. He hadn’t heard her clearly, because of the hubbub from the audience and the freaks who were still crowding around them.

  ‘I said, “You got wood.” Your pecker is so hard you could drill a hole in the ground with it, and you’re just aching to push it inside me, aren’t you? You think you’ll go crazy with lust if you don’t.’

  Mago Verde stared at her, and for the first time she saw uncertainty in his eyes. ‘Who the hell are you?’ he said, his voice even hoarser than ever, so that he had to clear his throat.

  ‘My darling . . .’ Xyrena purred at him. ‘I am anybody you want me to be, and then some. You feel like you’re going to explode, don’t you? Can you imagine me sucking you? Can you imagine the tip of my tongue swimming round and around you, like an eel?’

  With a grunt of frustration, Mago Verde gripped both of Xyrena’s wrists and gradually lifted her hands off his shoulders. He was trembling all over with the sheer effort of resisting her, as if he were lifting two hundred-pound barbells instead of a woman’s arms. ‘Ringmaster!’ he shouted. ‘Open the canopy! Let the Grand Freak see who has come to pay tribute to him!’

  Xyrena kept on smiling at him. ‘So that’s it! You don’t dare to give in to those baser instincts, do you? – not in front of your lord and master! But if the Grand Freak hadn’t been here, you would have done, wouldn’t you? You would have screwed me in front of all of these people, wouldn’t you, and reveled in it! You would have danced around the stage crowing like a barnyard cockerel! But oh, no! You don’t dare, do you? Not in front of your lord and master!’

  In truth, Xyrena’s heart was banging inside of her breastplate and she was terrified about what was going to happen next. But she still felt an enormous power over Mago Verde, and over every man and woman and freak who was clustering around her. She aroused them, she made their blood tingle, in spite of themselves. Mago Verde wanted her. They all wanted her. She induced the kind of lustful hysteria that led men to rape the plainest of women and women to submit to men whom they hated. The ringmaster’s face was so congested that it was almost purple. His eyes were bulging and she could tell that she had pumped up his blood pressure, too.

  He cracked his whip, however, and bellowed, ‘All hail to the Great Creator of Nightmares, the Arch-Dreamer, the Grand Freak himself, Brother Albrecht!’ – cracking his whip again and again to accentuate each syllable.

  At the same time, he turned a handle on the side of the four-wheeled contraption, like the handle of an old-fashioned sewing-machine, and as he did so, the black leather canopy gradually began to fold up, revealing what was hidden underneath it.

  Everybody on the stage dropped on to one knee – those who had knees – and everybody who was wearing any kind of hat or headgear removed it, and held it reverently against their chests.

  ‘Your crown, you bitch!’ Mago Verde hissed at Xyrena. ‘Take off your crown!’

  ‘I don’t take off my crown for anyone,’ Xyrena retorted. ‘You said it yourself, didn’t you? Yes? I’m the Queen of Someplace-or-Other.’

  ‘Then tell your friends to take off their helmets!’

  ‘They’re not my friends, they’re my bodyguards, and they never remove their helmets.’

  Mago Verde was obviously furious, but it was too late now. The black leather canopy had been folded right back – and there, exposed for everybody to see – was Brother Albrecht, the Grand Freak, der Ursprüngliche Sohn des Teufel, the Original Son of the Devil.

  ‘Shit,’ said Jekkalon, and Jemexxa whispered, ‘Oh, my God.’ Even Xyrena, who was trying to keep up her sassy streetwalker act, was taken aback. She had to take three quick breaths to steady herself before she said, ‘Dom Magator, he’s right here! Center stage! Brother Albrecht, in the flesh! Or what’
s left of him.’

  The four-wheeled contraption contained a shell-shaped seat, upholstered in worn black leather, and inside this shell-shaped seat sat Brother Albrecht. He was dressed in a sleeveless jerkin of brown velvet with a high collar embroidered with gold thread. His arms were nothing but stumps and his legs had been sawn off at the knees, but his shoulders and his chest were muscular and well developed. It was his face, though, that had caused Xyrena to catch her breath. He was devastatingly handsome, with sapphire-blue eyes and chiseled cheekbones and a wide, strong jaw. His lips were sensual and slightly parted, as if he had just finished kissing someone, or saying something deeply suggestive. His hair was long and blond and tangled, but tied up with fraying golden cords, and decorated with dead white flowers. He could have been the model for a Pre-Raphaelite portrait of Jesus.

  Brother Albrecht’s jerkin was open to the navel, and like the naked men and women who had escorted his contraption on to the stage, his body was decorated up to the neck with a swarming mass of tattoos – scores of intertwined illustrations of devils and monsters and women performing grotesque sexual acts with dogs and goats and slavering demons. It looked, in fact, as if he had turned himself into a living blasphemy – a challenge to everybody who had faith. Look at me! I dare you to turn your face away! Christians took my arms and my legs and turned me into a freak and banished me for ever! Would you have any faith in the Lord, if He had allowed you to be reduced to this?

  In a deep, blurry voice, he said, ‘Mein achtes Geschank. My eighth gift. Is it here?’

  ‘Hier, Ihre Anbetung,’ chittered Brown Jenkin. ‘Recht vor Inhnen. Allbe bereit geändert zu werden.’

  Brother Albrecht arched his back so that he could peer over the side of his black contraption, where Maria Fortales was sitting tied to her bentwood chair. He stared at her for a long time without saying anything. Maria Fortales was sobbing now, not only from the persistent pain from her double amputation, but in utter despair and disbelief. She repeatedly threw her head from side to side and kept twisting her body in her efforts to get herself free.

  ‘Sie ist volkommen,’ Brother Albrecht nodded, at last. ‘She is perfect. Sie haben gut getan, Mago Verde. You have done well.’

  Mago Verde bowed in acknowledgement. ‘For you, master, anything. I know that you will reward me generously when the time comes.’

  ‘Her new arms?’ asked Brother Albrecht. ‘Ihre neuen Arme? Are they ready yet?’

  Xyrena was surprised that he spoke English, even if he did speak it with a very thick German accent, and not with any kind of German accent that she had ever heard before. A medieval German accent, she guessed. But then she thought: this is a dream, after all, and it’s his dream, so I guess he can speak any language that he wants to, in his own dream.

  Mago Verde waggled the fingers of both hands at the ringmaster. Whatever this signal meant, the ringmaster clearly understood it, because he wheeled around on his heel and let out a piercing two-fingered whistle. From behind the curtains somebody called out, ‘Almost ready, signore! Almost ready!’

  ‘Then quick! At the double! You are keeping the Grand Freak waiting!’

  Mago Verde leaned over the side of Brother Albrecht’s seat and said, ‘Your attention, please, your worship. Before we give this divine young lady her new arms, I have to tell you that we have three unexpected visitors.’

  Xyrena tilted her head toward her microphone. ‘Are you there, John?’ she asked Dom Magator. ‘It looks like we’re going to be needing some backup in a couple of minutes.’

  ‘We’re right outside the big top, sweetheart. Locked and loaded, both of us. An-Gryferai is dead overhead.’

  Brother Albrecht focused his sapphire-blue eyes on Xyrena and gave her a penetrating look that made her feel as she had become as transparent as water, and that he could see right through her armor to her naked body, and into her very bones. Into her thoughts, too, and her emotions, and everything that she had ever said or done or cared about.

  ‘How can a visitor be unexpected?’ he said. He looked at Jekkalon and Jemmexa, too. ‘How can you three people walk into my dream without my dreaming it? Es ist nicht möglich.’

  Jekkalon stepped forward. ‘No disrespect, dude. We heard about your circus and we just wanted to take a look for ourselves. Me and my sister, we’re acrobats. Trapeze artists. We have a kind of professional interest, if you know what I mean. We only wanted to size up the competition.’

  ‘Mago Verde?’ Brother Albrecht demanded. ‘How did these people get here? Are they real, or do they come from somebody else’s dream?’

  ‘Oh, they’re real all right, your worship. As real as I am. But I don’t yet know where they come from, or how they got here.’

  Brother Albrecht said to Xyrena, ‘Come here, Fraülein. I want to look at you.’

  Under her breath, Xyrena said to Dom Magator, ‘He wants me to come closer. With any luck I’ll give him the twitch, too.’

  ‘Just play it cool, Xyrena,’ Dom Magator warned her.

  ‘What’s he going to do? Grab ahold of me? Chase me round the stage? The guy doesn’t have any legs.’

  ‘Just watch yourself, that’s all. He hasn’t survived for eight centuries without having some kind of serious power.’

  Xyrena approached the black contraption and then stood in front of Brother Albrecht, her chin tilted up defiantly, her coronet shining, her heavy golden cloak rippling behind her in a wind that nobody else could feel.

  Brother Albrecht said, ‘What is your name, Fraülein?’

  ‘Xyrena. Well – among others. My daddy used to call me his little Fruit-Loop.’

  ‘Are you real, Xyrena?’

  ‘The last time I looked in the mirror, yes.’

  ‘You come from the waking world, nicht wahr? How did you get here? You realize that this is my dream, this circus? Mein Traum, verstehen Sie?’

  ‘I know that. But you have plenty of real people here already, don’t you? We didn’t think you’d object to two or three more. And we’re only passing through, you know? Like Jekkalon says, we’re taking a professional interest, that’s all.’

  Brother Albrecht’s left eyelid twitched, as if he had a nervous tic. As haughty as he was, Xyrena guessed that their appearance in his dream had not only baffled him but troubled him, too. It was even more obvious that he was beginning to feel the effect of her sexuality. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and between his thighs his brown velvet jerkin had visibly started to swell, and she knew that she was arousing him.

  ‘Tell me, Xyrena,’ said Brother Albrecht. ‘Do I know you?’

  ‘I very much doubt it, unless you’ve ever been to The Knick Bar in Milwaukee.’

  ‘Are you a witch?’

  ‘A witch? What kind of a compliment is that?’

  ‘You have magic about you. You are fascinating me. But of course you are aware of that, yes? You are doing it deliberately. You think because I am a fallen priest that I do not know how to resist your allure.’

  His words sounded very stilted, every syllable perfectly pronounced, as if he were reading them from an English phrase book.

  Xyrena shook her head. ‘Not a witch, Your Freakness. Only a woman. But then you know all about women, don’t you? How dangerous they can be. How much you can lose, if you’re not very careful.’

  Brother Albrecht was about to reply when all of the clowns and the freaks the animal trainers shuffled noisily backward, and the audience filling the big top let out a low moan of apprehension, like the moan of passengers when an aircraft hits an air pocket and drops several hundred feet without warning. Through the crowd of performers on the stage emerged a thin Italian-looking man dressed in a shiny emerald-green suit, pushing in front of him a large wire cage on wheels. He was closely followed by a sallow man with an iron-gray hairpiece and heavy George Burns spectacles. This man was wearing a long white lab coat spattered with brown stains, and thick brown leather gauntlets.

  They were greeted and led forward to the front of
the stage by the ringmaster, who cracked his whip and shouted out, ‘Ladies and gentlemen! Perversions and distortions! I give you Signore Guido Serpente, reptile charmer of unparalleled mesmerity, and Doctor J. Friendly, surgeon of a thousand unimaginable agonies!’

  Signor Serpente pushed the cage right up to the edge of the stage, and then stepped away. Jemexxa was closest to the cage, but at first she couldn’t understand what was inside it. All she could see were gray dusty-looking coils, like worn-out hosepipes.

  ‘Voilà!’ Brown Jenkin cried out, prancing around the cage. ‘Sind hier die neuen Arme für dieses reizende Mädchen!’

  At first, Brother Albrecht didn’t take his eyes away from Xyrena. But then he said, ‘Let us talk later, Fraülein. For now, this is more important.’

  ‘You’re the boss,’ Xyrena smiled at him. Mago Verde had noticed the effect that Xyrena was having on his lord and master, and was glaring at her with undisguised venom.

  Brown Jenkin unfastened the catch on the door of the cage, and then Doctor Friendly reached inside with both hands. The ‘hosepipes’ immediately reared up and it was only then that Jemexxa realized what they were: two huge snakes, each at least six feet long, and each as thick as a human arm. They both had flat, anvil-shaped heads, yellow eyes, and forked tongues that flickered out between their fangs.

  ‘Oh my God!’ she said. ‘I’m totally terrified of snakes!’

  Jekkalon took hold of her arm and pulled her back, and Xyrena came up and stood close beside her.

  ‘What the hell are they going to do with those?’ asked Jekkalon.

  But suddenly it became horribly clear. Signor Serpente returned to the front of the stage, this time pushing a hospital gurney, with a grubby sheet draped over it. On top of the gurney jingled a tray of surgical instruments, scalpels and forceps and clips, as well as a kidney-shaped steel dish containing needles, sutures and swabs.

  Brown Jenkin jumped up next to the gurney like an eager child and snatched one of the scalpels. With a rat-like chattering noise, he scurried around to the back of Maria Fortales’ chair and began to slash at the cords that bound her. Maria Fortales was screaming now, but Brown Jenkin ignored her, and Mago Verde was actually smacking his hands together in delight and laughing at her. Brother Albrecht heaved himself up even higher in his shell-shaped seat, using his knees for leverage, so that he had a better view of what was happening.