by Amy Cross
Jess
By the time I get back to the audience's tent, he has sucked the skin off Darla's entire hand. All that's left is muscle and bone, and the audience is slowly making his way up toward the wrist, a horrible slurping sound come from his mouth. I guess he likes to drag his meals out, to enjoy them all night, otherwise Darla would be dead by now. She's just sitting there, looking horrified but apparently unable to move as the little boy continues to consume her.
"Hi," I say.
The audience stops sucking the flesh from Darla, and turns to me, a dark, malevolent look in his eyes.
"How are you doing?" I ask. "Sorry, am I interrupting dinner? Bad timing. My bad." I walk around the tent until I'm standing right next to the audience. I look down into Darla's terrified eyes. "So," I say to the audience, my heart beating so fast it's almost popping out of my chest. "Shall we get this party started?"
I smile.
The audience scowls up at me.
I swallow hard. What if I'm wrong? What if this kid can kill me any moment he wants?
"You know," I say, kneeling down in front of him so that our faces are at the same height. "I've been to a lot of parties. Too many, really. You wouldn't believe some of the stupid things I've done. But I know a good party when I see one, and this..." I look around the bare tent. "This is rubbish. Where's the music? Where's the dance-floor? Where are the party snacks? Jesus, no wonder you've got no friends."
Slowly, the audience's scowl deepens. I think it's working, he's getting really, really angry now. But that's the plan. I can only stop him if, first, I can make him mad as hell.
"You know what you need?" I say. "You need to grow up, my friend. You need to grow up and start acting your age. How old are you again? One, two million years? Or..." I smile at him. "Maybe not quite so old after all." I lean in close, really eyeballing the kid. "You're not who or what you say you are, are you?"
After staring at me for a moment, he starts opening his mouth and making a gurgling, hissing sound. I stand up and move back a little.
"You're not the end of the world," I say firmly. "If you really were, you wouldn't be hanging out at some rubbish little carnival. So what are you really?"
"He's a Criad," says Darla.
I look over to see that she's woken up from the trance she was in. She looks down at her fleshless hand. "Fuck," she says, visibly shaking. "When the venom wears off, this is gonna hurt like a bitch."
"What's a Criad?" I ask, keeping one eye on the little boy as he scowls at me.
"A Criad's a type of creature that consumes the flesh, but not the bones, of others. I should have guessed sooner. They're not really good for much, they just skulk about, feeding where they can, but this one had a good idea and manipulated this whole carnival to suit his needs. That's what Criads are best at, really. Lying."
The boy suddenly steps toward me. I step back, but he keeps coming. There's something particularly nasty about him, about those dark little eyes drilling into me as he advances.
"Right," I say, keeping away from him. "So he's not actually dangerous, then?"
"Well," says Darla, wincing with pain. "You might want to not let him touch you. That's how he puts you in a trance, and then he can..." She squeezes her eyes tight shut for a moment, and holds her skinless hand up. "Fuck, it's starting to hurt. Fuck..." She screams and collapses on the sofa, unable to take the pain.
"Come on, then," I say to the boy, and I rush out of the tent. Stopping to look back, I'm relieved when I see that he's following me. Good. Keep coming, little boy. I've got a plan for you. I've got someone for you to meet.
I run across the clearing. When I get to the other side, I turn to see that the boy is following. He's trying to run, but he's not very good at it and he keeps stumbling. I guess he's never had to chase anyone before, he's always had his food come straight to him.
There's a sudden noise next to me, as Vigrous Grinde steps out of his office. He takes one look at the boy and steps back in horror. "We can resolve this," he says to the audience. "Whatever she has done to upset you, I can put it all right. Please, just relax."
"Too late for that," I say, turning and running straight into Mena's tent. I run to the steps and go up to the side of the tank.
"Hey," says Mena, swimming over to me. "I didn't expect you back so soon. You changed your mind about coming in the water with me again?"
"Kind of," I say. "Things are complicated. Are you hungry?"
She frowns. "What are you talking about?"
"I might have a meal for you," I say, glancing back. I see the top of the steps start to shake a little. That means the boy is on his way up.
"Jess, you have me all wrong," she says, looking hurt. "I don't eat people. I never have. I never would. I never could. That would be monstrous!" She pauses, then she smiles. "I just like playing with them. Sure, I chew a little. But I never swallow. I always spit."
The boy appears at the top of the steps, with the same dark, burning eyes as before. He stares at me. Good, I've got his attention.
"Your favorite part of the freak show," I say to him. "The mermaid."
"Actually," says Mena, interrupting. "I don't like the name mermaid. I prefer to be called a melusine."
"Whatever," I say, keeping my eyes fixed on the audience. "It's the big fish you like, isn't it?" I step toward him, fixing him with a dark stare of my own. "Well maybe she's the star of the freak show, but there's only one real freak around here." And with that, I grab him and pull him with me. We both tumble into the water.
At first, I lose all sense of which way is up and which is down. I sink until I hit the bottom of the tank, and then I look up and see the shape of Mena swimming above me in all her glory. She's stunningly beautiful, her long, strong tail gently moving around her. She's so beautiful, in fact, that I forget all about the fact that I need to breathe, and about Duncan, and about Darla, and about anything. I just stare at Mena's beauty. And then, suddenly, I remember that I have to get out of the water. Running out of air, I push myself up and eventually break back through the surface.
"Nice swim?" Mena asks, smiling at me.
I look around, but I can't see the audience anywhere. "Where is he?" I ask.
Mena smiles. "He's all around," she says.
I suddenly notice that I'm swimming in a sea of blood. "You work fast," I say, slightly disgusted.
Mena shrugs. "There wasn't very much of him. And he didn't put up much of a struggle."
Treading water, I stare at her. "Did you know all along that he wasn't dangerous?"
Grinning, Mena swims closer to me. "I had my suspicions. But without this carnival, what am I supposed to do? The audience kept the illusion going because it meant he would be entertained every night, and because he could occasionally choose to feed off one of the creatures. I played along because I'm quite happy here in my little tank." She looks sad for a moment. "Though it gets very lonely."
"You and the audience are quite similar," I say. "You both had fearsome reputations that weren't quite accurate."
"Vigrous Grinde is the real fool in all of this," Mena says. "He was tricked by the audience, and he created this monstrous place."
I suddenly remember Darla. The last time I saw her, she was in agony with her mutilated hand. "I have to go and check on someone," I say. "I'll be back soon." I turn and swim to the edge, but suddenly I feel Mena's tail wrap around me and pull me back. She's strong, and although I struggle, I can't break loose.
"I'm sorry," she says, putting her arms around me. "I like you too much, Jessica. I can't possibly let you leave. I don't want to be alone."
A chill runs through me. I manage to turn around so that I'm facing Mena. "You have to let me go," I say. "I can help you. I can get you to the ocean again, you can be free."
"I don't want to be free," she says. "I like it here. I just don't want to be lonely." She smiles. "Don't you like me, Jess? Don't you think I'm beautiful?" She stares at me, and I stare back at her. With her dark eyes,
beautiful smile and large, round breasts, she's stunning. "I understand," she says. "Like you said to the audience, I'm just a big fish."
"I didn't mean that," I say.
Without warning, Mena leans closer and kisses me, right on the lips. It's only a brief kiss, but when it's over there seems to be some extra connection between us. And then, suddenly, she tightens her tail's grip around me, and then she pulls me underwater, dragging me down to the bottom of the tank. I struggle, trying to get loose, but her tails just wraps even tighter. I look over and see her staring impassively, watching me die. Every time I try to pull free, it seems like she just squeezes me tighter and tighter. Finally I start to lose the strength to keep pushing, and I feel water rushing into my lungs. I look up at the top of the tank, at the faint light, and then everything goes black.
Duncan
"Any last words?" he asks.
Jess
"I'm sorry," says Mena as I open my eyes. "I just..." She looks away, and she seems sad. "It gets lonely here sometimes, and I wanted you to stay."
I sit up slowly. My lungs ache, my whole body feels as if I've just been through a meat-grinder. Suddenly I cough up a mouthful of water, spewing it onto the ground. I'm by the side of the tank, with Mena watching me from the water.
"I thought I was going to die," I say, my voice rasping.
"You almost did," she says. "Please accept my apologies. I realized at the last minute that I was wrong, and... I hope there's no lasting damage."
"I think I'm okay," I say.
"If you were human," she replies, "you would most certainly have died. Fortunately werewolves are a little tougher."
"Apparently," I say, and then I remember something. "Darla!" I get to my feet. "I have to go and check on her."
"Of course," says Mena, looking sad. "But please remember that if you ever want to come back in the water with me, voluntarily, I would..." She smiles sadly, and blushes a little. "I would like that. I like you very much."
"I..." I start to say, but I'm not sure how to react. "I'll come back and see you," I blurt out, rushing down the steps and out of the tent.
***
When I find Darla, she's sitting with the other werewolves. Stephen is bandaging her hand, which looks red and raw still. But despite the obvious trauma, Darla herself is smiling and seems happy to see me.
"Hey, darling," she says as I enter the tent.
"Hey," I say. "How's the hand?"
"Still got it," she says. "Barely."
"But you're a werewolf," I say. "We're tough. Your hand'll be fine, right?"
Stephen grunts. Is that his way of laughing? He looks at me. "The Criad's venom was strong. I don't think she'll get the flesh back on her hand, but she'll be able to use it still. And the pain should subside."
"Where have you been?" Darla asks. "Where's the audience?"
"He met Mena," I say, smiling. "There's not much left of him now."
Darla smiles. "So he wasn't a little god after all?"
I shake my head. "He was just a little creature who managed to trick everyone here into believing he was all-powerful." I sit next to Darla and take a close look at her hand. With no flesh, it's just a red mass of muscle, tendons and veins. It looks kind of gross, but I guess it works and that's all that really matters.
"What you gonna do now, darling?" Darla asks.
"I have to go to London," I say. "I have to find my friend."
Darla nods. "We've been talking, and we've all decided to keep the carnival up and running."
I frown at her. "Seriously?"
"It's home," she says. "We belong here. We like each other."
I nod, kind of understanding. I had a home once. I'd like one again. "Mena will probably remove the implants for you, if you ask nicely. She's really not so bad." I pause. "But hang on, what about Vigrous Grinde? Is he just going to hand over the whole carnival to you?"
Stephen grunts again. I really think that's his way of laughing. Weird. "Look at this," he says, leading me over to the other side of the tent. To my shock, I see the large, fat form of Vigrous Grinde, curled up and squeezed into a little cage. He looks out at me, with a helpless expression on his face.
"What the hell?" I say.
"There's only one freak in this freak show," Stephen says, smiling. "Don't worry, we'll let him out occasionally, so he can dance for us." He points to a piece of wood next to Grinde's cage. "Look," he says, grinning. "We even put a sign up."
I smile as I read the sign next to Grinde's cage:
CAUTION
Do not enter the water
Do not speak to the creature
Do not obey the creature
Do not touch the creature
Do not believe the creature
"Nice," I say. "Poetic."
"We took it away from Mena's tank," Stephen says. "For now. We'll see how it goes." He smiles, and it's clear that he understands that Mena isn't so bad after all.
"Where's the audience"? Grinde asks, a hint of terror in his voice. "Is he coming for me?"
I open my mouth to tell him that the audience is dead.
"He's gone," says Stephen, before I can say anything. "But he might come back, so you'd better behave, okay?"
Grinde nods. "Just keep the audience away from me. Don't let him find me."
Stephen and I turn and head back over to Darla and the others.
"What about Mena?" I ask.
"We'll sort something out," Stephen says. "I'm not convinced we can trust her, though. She's dangerous."
"You've got to stop thinking like that," I say. "Grinde fooled you. He lied. Mena's..." I pause for a moment. "Mena's no more dangerous than any of the rest of us. You just have to treat her right." I look around the tent. It all seems so calm and ordered now. "I should get going," I say finally. "I need to get to London. I have to find out where Duncan is."
"Good luck," says Stephen.
I head out into the clearing, followed by Stephen and Darla. I look over at Mena's tent. "Do you promise," I say, turning to Darla, "that you'll treat her properly? You won't just leave her alone in that tank?"
"I promise," says Darla.
"Okay," I say. "Then... I hate long goodbyes. Tell her I'll come back and see her again some time okay?"
I hug Darla, and then - to his obvious surprise - I hug Stephen. Then I turn and walk across the clearing and out through the main gate. Joe's old truck is still parked there, and when I look inside I find the keys are still in the ignition. Grasping the first bit of luck that's come my way in a while, I climb in and turn the key. The engine bursts into life, and the fuel gauge shows the tank's almost full. It won't get me to London, but it'll get me part of the way, and that's better than walking.
I turn the truck around, but suddenly Darla appears at the window. I roll down the glass.
"I'm coming with you," she says excitedly, running around and jumping in through the passenger door. "Is that okay?"
"Sure," I say, "but I thought you wanted to stay here? You said the carnival was your home."
"It is," she says. "And I'll be coming back real soon. But everyone needs a holiday. I have some people I'd like to see in London, so I figured, if you want the company, I could head there with you. It'd be a kind of werewolf road trip."
I smile. "Sounds like the title of a really cheesy movie."
"Come on," Darla says, holding up her fleshless hand. "Don't make me claw you."
I put the truck into gear and we head off down the bumpy dirt road. It's good to have Darla with me, at least for now. It'll make the journey more bearable. I have a feeling that when we get to London, and when I start looking for Duncan, I'm going to be getting myself into some serious trouble. I can't explain it, but somehow I can sense that he's still alive, but I can also sense that he's in pain. He needs me. He's rescued me in the past. Now I'm going to rescue him. Nothing can stop me. Nothing.
Duncan
All is still.
All is silent.
I wait.
<
br /> Though it is ending violently, and painfully, my life has been good. There have been good times. I have run faster than most. I have experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows. I have loved, and lost, and loved again.
From the highlands of Scotland to the bowels of London, I have escaped death many times. Perhaps I allowed myself to believe that my run of good luck would hold forever.
I assumed that my master's threats were empty.
I doubted his determination.
I doubted his authority.
I doubted his truth.
I doubted all.
I failed him.
I fell hard.
I lost.
The last thing I hear is the swish of a blade as it flies through the air.
The last thing I feel is the blade slicing straight through my chest, cutting me in half.
The last thing I see, in my mind, is a face.
Anna's face.
The last thing I know, before death, is love.
Part Two
The Architect
Prologue 1
When I retired from the church, I believed my days of service to the community were over. For nearly half a century, I served St. Mary's Church dutifully. I officiated at weddings, funerals and christenings, and I gave sermons to packed congregations. But then, shortly before my 60th birthday, my eyesight began to fail. I struggled on for some time, hoping that God would spare my vision. But finally, as I turned 62, I found that even simple tasks such as reading were beyond me. I was forced to resign my position. By the time I turned 63, I had become completely blind. I do not know why God chose to let this happen to me, but I have accepted my blindness with humility.
Then, a couple of days ago, I received a phone call from someone I had not heard from in many years. It was Thomas Lumic, an intermittent parishioner who wanted to know if I would be able to officiate at a funeral. I told him that I am blind now, that I am retired from the priesthood. But he was most insistent. He said that it was very important to him that I should be the one who should take charge of the funeral. No-one else, he said, would be right for the task. It had to be me. I protested, but eventually I was persuaded to come out of retirement for one final funeral.
