Firetale (10 page)

Faulkner
had brought Charles to the circus
back in New Orleans. He was a middle-aged man, with good manners,
who always tried to stay away from the usual hustle and bustle of
life. When he was a teenager, his devilish blood had emerged, and
sometimes at night pain tortured Charles throughout his body. Then
he would be covered with hair and run into the woods, where he
behaved like an animal. Unlike a werewolf, Charles never turned
into a wolf, and he kept his human features. But only the flesh of
an animal could satisfy his bestial hunger, and human flesh was
best of all. These changes and cravings terrified Charles. Not
wanting to harm anyone, he ran away from human society. Faulkner
and Lazarus offered him help. With the knowledge gleaned from his
books, Faulkner could ease Charles’s madness. The problem of
rougaru hunger was solved when Stepan joined the circus. Now and
then, he agreed to dig up bodies from fresh graves or rob morgues
under the cover of night to provide human flesh for
Charles.

Faulkner found Stepan when the
circus, in which there were only three people, was
about to leave New
Orleans. Stepan was a Ukrainian immigrant who had fled his homeland
because of some crimes. He wanted to try his fortune in the New
World, where, he believed, any fugitive was given a second chance.
Alas, the rarog’s violent temper failed him in every city where he
stayed. Stepan was a dwarf who could turn into a vortex and become
invulnerable in that form. He used his ability in many fights in
cities across America, until he accidentally killed a man. Working
in the circus allowed him to travel across the country, making it
harder for coppers to catch him.

The joint snake had no back
story. It was one of those unfortunate mongrels born as
a beast. It lived in
the swamps of New Orleans until it was caught by local blacks to be
used in voodoo rituals. They hacked it to pieces as a sacrifice and
were horrified when the remains of the creature started crawling in
the sand, as if the pieces were looking for each other, until it
coalesced again into a snake. The frightened blacks did not throw
it away, however, but sold the creature to a white businessman, a
rarities seeker, believing it would harm him. This businessman, in
turn, sold the snake to the circus for a high price, and a month
later he died unexpectedly at his home from some unknown
cause.

Charles portrayed himself as
a
wendigo, a
werewolf, grinning and covered with dense hair, but many years
later, when he became old, he was just an incredibly hairy man.
Stepan entertained people by transforming into a vortex into which
someone would throw a knife, and then he turned back into his human
form, holding the blade between his teeth. Unfortunately, at least
to Mr. Bernardius, the most popular exhibit in his circus of freaks
was the snake. Children loved to torment it, tearing it to pieces
as they laughed, and then happily watched as the pieces fused
again.

The “Lazarus Bernardius’ Circus” didn’t
have such a limited troupe for long. Mr. Bernardius was surprised
by how often in the early years of touring they attracted new
demionis, both sane and bestial, which he took under his wing.
Unlike the Barnum circus, the fame of which resounded throughout
the country, Bernardius’s circus wasn’t popular. However, Barnum’s
show served Lazarus well. After Barnum’s numerous scams, frauds,
and swindles were exposed by the press, people stopped believing
that the “artists” of Lazarus’s circus were real monsters and
beasts and not subtle fakes.

Initially Lazarus was offended.
His circus always traveled on the
back roads of the country, but one day,
after a pause in the tour and without warning anyone, Lazarus went
to New York to witness the performance of The Greatest Show on
Earth. Mr. Bernardius was impressed by the scale and magnificence
of the spectacle. He feverishly took notes in a notebook he brought
with him, planning to use them to make his circus performances
better. With dreams and ideas hustling in his head, and building
fantastic plans in his mind, Mr. Bernardius encountered the man in
black and white robes at the exit of the circus. Astaroth jogged
Lazarus’s memory. The circus was a home to supernatural beings
rescued from the world of people and not an entertainment company
whose purpose was to make money. In his usual sarcastic manner, the
demon told Lazarus that the tentmaster should not draw too much
attention to the demionis.

Disappointed
, Lazarus returned to his
circus. He didn’t even ask how Astaroth knew he had left, but he
was sure that Faulkner had informed the demon about it. Faulkner’s
attitude toward Lazarus had not changed, and the archivist was
still friendly and good-natured, showing no signs of disrespect.
The old man still didn’t look like an employee of the infernal
forces, but like a kindly old uncle every kid dreamed
about.

Astaroth
’s instructions were not in vain.
“Lazarus Bernardius’ Circus” never strove for glory, continuing to
travel to small towns, some of which in the late nineteenth and
early twentieth century were not even on the map. The circus
equipment from the first trip had not worn out. Tents and poles,
props and pieces of the arena lost the luster of newness, but they
were still strong and reliable. Lazarus wondered how this was
possible. Faulkner told him that the spell of fortification had
been cast upon the gear and props, making them virtually
indestructible. Years passed, but the wonders of progress bypassed
Mr. Bernardius’s troupe. Eventually Lazarus replaced the carts and
horses with trucks, but telephones, computers, and other electronic
devices were strictly prohibited. Even the posters and tickets were
drawn manually, by archivists trained in calligraphy.

Progress was one of the reasons
the circus avoided big cities. Progress went too fast there.
The more that
cameras, radio, TV, the Internet, and other technology conquered
humanity, the more forbidden big cities were to the circus.
High-tech cell phones, which any teenager could use to record video
and post it to the Internet, were dangerous for demionis, the
reality of which Mr. Bernardius tried to keep secret. Lazarus had
heard that some demionis had perfectly adapted to the megalopolis.
These were able to mix with millions of people and had found ways
to survive. But most were forced to flee to places less subject to
the influence of man. People cut down the forests and transformed
the wastelands where demionis once lived, and built houses and
factories there. The miserable creatures had no choice but to run
and hide. Those whom people called monsters and beasts retreated
from human settlements. At the request of Lazarus, the circus
archivists checked local newspapers, and advance teams listened to
conversations in bars. What they learned confirmed that demionis
showed up rarely near the places where people lived, preferring to
hide in the boondocks. That is, until they were found by Lazarus
Bernardius.

The archaic appearance of the
circus in the
twenty-first century, to the surprise of Mr. Bernardius,
did not turn audiences away, but actually attracted them. He often
heard visitors wondering how the circus managed to achieve that
“aged” look in the arena, the cells, and the props. After thirty
years of back-breaking touring across the country, the circus drew
complaints from some audience members that it lacked the luster
comparable to Barnum’s, but for one hundred and thirty years,
people had admired what they called its authenticity. This change
of mood seemed almost stupid to Lazarus, but he loved his
audiences.

Mr. Bernardius rarely chose a
big city for a show, only in
the case of extreme necessity, and did not spend
more than a day there. He didn’t like big cities. In the tullies,
people were more open; their emotions were clear and predictable.
Lazarus sometimes thought that if the circus performed in big
cities, people there would treat the artists with contempt and
distrust. Mr. Bernardius had been in towns so small that the circus
show would become the most discussed event for many years. The
“Lazarus Bernardius’ Circus” returned to some towns decades later,
and Lazarus met people whose parents or grandparents had told them
about the fantastic circus full of freaks and monsters. Lazarus
loved to bring joy to people, liked their responsiveness when the
advance team asked them about strange local legends. But the
demionis couldn’t reveal themselves. Therefore any footage of the
show was strictly forbidden, and if anyone violated this rule, the
brothers Blanche and Black would explain, as politely as they
could, that cameras were not welcome. Sometimes the local press was
pushy, wanting to report on the inhabitants of the circus. In that
case, an archivist had to summon a few lesser demons that had no
rank in the infernal hierarchy. The little imps could zap out any
electronic device in a radius of several hundred meters. But this
did not happen often.

Most of the residents of the
circus thought of it as their home. There they were protected.
People might scoff at them, but
they could not harm them. In the circus
were food, warmth, and the company of beings united by the same
fate. Problems occurred, but Lazarus always found a solution. The
main rule was to communicate with outsiders as little as possible.
For some creatures, it was strictly forbidden, but others could
leave the circus from time to time, as long as they observed
certain restrictions. No one could leave the circus without
Lazarus’s permission.

Demionis did not dare
vio
late this
rule. Until Greg appeared. The magician was endowed with a rare
gift, as rare as Lazarus’s immortality. He was well aware of this.
He broke the rules and sometimes behaved as if he was doing the
circus a favor by staying. After Martha appeared, Greg became more
compliant, but he still remained the most obstinate of Lazarus’s
fosterlings. Mr. Bernardius had been running the circus a long
time, and one thing he had learned was that demon blood needed to
stay away from people. But Greg was drawn to them. Lazarus knew all
too well how these things ended. Not well.

“
She won`t let on what that will
be.”

Temple of the
Dog, “All Night
Thing”

After the murder of Mr.
Berry
, Greg
felt lousy. He felt as if he had squashed a cockroach, and its
chitinous carapace had stuck to his thumb, and he couldn’t shake it
off. He was in Berry’s clothes, and it felt like dirt covered him
from head to toe, enveloped him, compressed him like a clutch,
making movements awkward. Typically after a murder, Greg felt
relieved, released from a burden, like he had done a good job. But
this time the darkness within him had not dissipated; it circled in
his chest near his heart, stabbed him with its sharp, crooked
teeth, and laughed. Greg knew the only escape from this feeling was
Martha. She could damp down the darkness, could help him. He craved
only one thing—to get back to the circus and hug her. Next to her
he would feel better.

When Greg got to the
circus lot it was
still early morning, but Blanche and Black had already started
dismantling the main tent.

Using a
block-and-tackle
, the ogres lowered the bale ring, a metal ring of large
diameter that was attached to the fabric of the tent. Once on the
ground, the fabric was disconnected from the ring by several
melonheads, and then rolled and packed in oiled bags. Greg was
always amazed at how much strength and agility these little people
with huge heads possessed. Their heads were so heavy that when they
walked, they had to swing from side to side. They worked in the
arena as dwarfs or clowns or entertained the audience in front of
the circus as curious freaks, and after performances their
assistance in dismantling the tents was indispensable.

Once the melonheads were
finished, the ogres
embarked on the most difficult part of the work, taking out the
pillars. Huge wooden columns were embedded a few feet into the
ground for greater stability, and secured at the base with
grommets. In a normal circus, it would have taken three or four
people to pull a pole out of the ground, but Black and Blanche
handled each column by themselves. The ogres went to each pole,
hugged it, and yanked it out of the ground. The two brothers could
dismantle the main tent in less than an hour, rather than the three
hours it took other circuses.

Lazarus was watching their work
and talk
ing
about something with the archivist Pietro, possibly in what town
the circus would make its next show. Greg tried to pass unnoticed,
but Lazarus saw him, gestured for him to wait, and approached him.
Greg knew what Bernardius wanted to talk about. Certainly the
manager had noticed the magician’s absence the night
before.

“
Good morning, Greg. Your help
here would be very useful.” Bernardius gestured toward the tent,
which the two brothers were dismantling.

“
Okay, Mr. Bernardius. Just let
me to fix myself up,” Greg said. He liked the old man, but today
the magician was angry and upset, and he turned and headed toward
his trailer.

“
Greg, I have not finished,”
Lazarus called after him. “You look strange.”

“
I didn’t sleep all
night.”

“
I think these clothes aren’t
yours, Greg.” Bernardius’s voice was tense and upset.