Flesh Circus (8 page)

“She looks worried,” Saul murmured.

“No shit,” I muttered back. Inside her shop, Galina’s will is law—she is, after all, a Sanctuary. But anything could happen
on the way up to her doorstep.

And who knew what was waiting for us around here? It wasn’t like her to call more than once. They all know the drill, everyone
who dials me—I’ll get around to you sooner or later, unless I’m being shot, strangled, knifed, electrocuted, thrown off a
building, or doing anything else fun and interesting.

I opened the door cautiously. The bell jingled. I stepped carefully through the curtain of Sanc warding.

“Thank God.” She was in her robes, the pigeon-throat gray shifting and the mark of the Order—a silver medallion, the quartered
circle inside a serpent’s hoop, snake eating its own tail—at her throat. I gave the shop a quick glance—nothing visible. I
relaxed fractionally, didn’t reholster the gun. Something was off here. “You won’t need that, Jill, I’ve got everything—”

“Is it her?” A rumble of Helletöng slid under the words, and the windows chattered, both with Galina’s wordless shout and
the lash of a hellbreed’s voice.

Coming from
inside.

Usually, my instinct would be to dive
away
from something like that. This time, though, I pitched forward, my shoulder smacking hard against the bottom of a display
case running along the right side of the store. Glass shivered and whickered loose. Saul let out a short sharp yell, I finished
rolling, gaining my feet in a single convulsive movement and ending up with both guns pointed straight at a very familiar-looking
’breed.

The Ringmaster held his cane like a staff, the crystal at its head spitting with venomous green as he stood next to the cash
register. His eyes ran with wet orange hellfire. His hair was lifting on a slight screaming breeze from nowhere, standing
up in wet black spikes. This time he was in a battered red velvet coat and actual
jodhpurs,
but it didn’t make him look ridiculous.

No, he looked like he belonged on a carton of animal crackers. A really twisted, ugly carton sopping with blood and other
nasty liquids.

“We came to this town in good faith, hunter.” The faint lines on the ridge of bone masquerading as teeth were grimed with
something dark. “We came to cleanse and to—”

“Stand down.” My voice sliced through his. Behind me, Saul’s warning growl rose, rattling the entire place no less than Galina’s
anger or the wave of hellbreed agitation. “This is a Sanctuary. Calm the fuck
down.
”

“
Both
of you.” The air hardened under Galina’s words. “You. Stand over there, or I will send you back to Hell. I’m
not
joking.”

“She isn’t, you know.” This was Perry, who stood with his back to the rest of us, bending down to peer inside a glass display
case that held several crystal balls, mummified alligators, and a stacked display of Etteila tarot cards. Something rippled
on his back, under the white linen suit jacket. “I suggest you calm yourself.”

“What the hell’s going on?” I didn’t lower the gun, and Galina’s walls ran with rivulets of etheric force, cascading in sheets.
The lightshow was amazing, but it could just as easily turn on me as on the hellbreed. “Galina?”

“Stand
over there.
” Her voice rang like a gong, and the Ringmaster grudgingly paced to the exact spot she pointed to on the hardwood floor,
his thin body twitching with mutiny. His hair actually writhed, the spikes touching each other with little balloon-squealing
sounds. The fraying nap of his red velvet coat crawled with corruption-dust, and his fingers twisted and twitched.

Galina gave me a meaningful look, and I slowly, slowly lowered my guns. The glass shards on the floor stirred, quivering.
“Someone give me a vowel.”

“We are in a very special place right now, Kismet.” Perry still didn’t turn to face any of us. “Let us absorb the full implications.”

“Where have you been, hunter?” The Ringmaster jabbed his cane at me, the crystal popping off one diseased-green spark. “We
came here in
good faith!
”

“I’ve been chasing a child-killer and doing exorcisms.” Every nerve in my body cried out in protest when I holstered the guns.
“More than enough fun and games to keep me busy. Whatever’s happened to you, I’m not involved with it.” I licked my dry lips.
Saul straightened from his crouch behind me. It was good to feel him there, even while I was worrying about two hellbreed
in front of me and the look on Galina’s face. “Yet.”

“There has been an attack.” Perry finally turned, slowly, and it was almost a relief to see him still wearing his blond, bland
face. He was also grinning, lips pulled back in a rictus and his eyes burning gasflame-blue. There was no indigo spreading
and scarring the whites, though.

That was good news. How good remained to be seen. “Attack?” That was the bad news. “What kind of attack?”

“A Cirque performer, my dear.” Perry stuffed his hands in his pockets and tilted his blond head. It ruined the lines of his
suit, but I suppose he thought it made him look less dangerous. Or something. “A certain fortune-teller appears to have gone
to collect her eternal reward. With some help, I might add.”

For a few seconds the words refused to make sense. Then they slammed home, and I took a deep breath. My face felt very cold,
and I suspected I’d gone even paler than my usual night-working fishbelly. “You’re kidding.” It was the only thing I could
think of to say.

“You see?” Perry’s grin didn’t alter in the slightest. “I vouch for her shock, brother. My Kismet is altogether too intelligent
for such a blatant act.”

“Shut up, Hyperion.” The Ringmaster’s cane dipped. He watched me, his orange gaze swirling with dust and crawling all down
my body. “You will swear you had no part in this, hunter?”

“For Christ’s sake.” I resisted the urge to draw a knife, or better yet, limber my gun up and make the world a better place
with a few well-placed headshots. “The hostage is your good behavior. Why the hell would I want to attack any of your people?”
Other than their being hellbreed, which is enough reason to seriously tempt me.

“To erase the rest of—” The Ringmaster’s eyes flicked toward Perry, who pursed his lips. A number of things occurred to me
just then, and I actually had to stuff my tongue into my cheek and bite down to keep from making a snarky comment.

They were actually thinking I’d go after the entire Cirque, given enough reason. But the Ringmaster wouldn’t be so upset unless
he seriously thought I had a chance at actually pulling it off.

It was an unintentional compliment. Being feared by hellbreed isn’t a nice thing, but it’s damn useful, and pleasant when
it can smooth your way a little bit.

My heart rate eased a little bit. Saul crowded closer behind me. The bell on the door jangled slightly, thrumming under the
murderous tension. Galina relaxed, fractionally.

“All right.” I tried not to sound relieved. “This is the first I’ve heard about an attack on the Cirque—which I consider just
as bad news for me as it is for you. I give you my word I have nothing to do with it. But I’m about to.” I took a deep breath.
My pulse smoothed out a little bit more, and my eyes skipped between the two ’breed, each of them vibrating with barely controlled
rage. Perry hid it better, but I’ve been around him too much, for too long, to trust his outward appearance. “I’ve got some
business to transact with my Sanctuary, here. Then I’ll be out at the Cirque to take a look at what’s going on. I’ll find
out who’s behind this and take appropriate action. In the meantime, you’ll keep your noses clean.”
Put the sting in the tail, Jill.
“Perry, you’ll meet me at the Cirque.”

“I do not—” The Ringmaster began.

“I think it’s best, don’t you?” Perry interjected smoothly, taking a single step closer. “So nobody is tempted to run amok
while my dear Kiss is on the scene. It would be so embarrassing to have a hunter become justified in killing a few
more
of your performers.” He didn’t look at the other ’breed, though. Instead, he was staring at me like he was hungry and I was
a bowl of lunch.

I wish I could say I didn’t know that look. But men have been giving it to me all my life.

The other ’breed stared at me, the pumpkin hellfire smearing from his irises not abating one iota. I was suddenly glad we
were inside Galina’s shop. If he moved on me she’d drop him—or more precisely, the Sanctuary warding on the walls would. If
all else failed, it would give me enough time to put a few silverjacket slugs in him. And maybe sink a knife right into one
of those orange-glowing eyes.

“If I find that you are, indeed, involved in this… unfortunate… event—” The cane twirled smartly, the crystal hissing as it
clove unresisting air.

That’s the trouble with this job. It’s full of threats, both veiled and naked. After a while it gets ho-hum. Except when you’re
dealing with Hell’s scions. The slippery, twisting, twitchy bastards threaten all the time—and they’ll get away with what
they can.

“I sure hope that wasn’t a threat,” I remarked to the empty air over his black-spiked head. “Because for a member of the Cirque
de Charnu to threaten a resident hunter is exceeding bad taste. Not to mention stupid. And dangerous. And—”

“That’s it.” Galina stepped forward just as the Ringmaster did, a synchronized movement that would have been funny if the
hellbreed hadn’t been hissing like a steam kettle. “Both Perry and I vouch for our hunter’s innocence. Go back to your home
and wait. You’ve said and done enough here.”

Our hunter.
A pucker of hot liquid prickling filled the scar. The bottom dropped out of my stomach. Perry grinned like he had just gotten
a Christmas present full of snackable entrails. Galina, however, didn’t notice anything.

Great.

Crackling tension rose another notch. The Ringmaster paced toward me, and I realized he would have to pass very close to get
out the front door. I stepped aside, so did Saul, and I did my best to keep myself between him and the ’breed. The smooth
incense quiet of Galina’s shop trembled like the skin atop fresh milk. My hands literally itched for a weapon.

The Ringmaster halted for a bare second. Adrenaline spiked through my bloodstream. I caught a whiff of sawdust and glitter,
spice and fried food, with the faint thunderous note of rotting underneath. The edges of his red frock coat twitched, as if
tiny insect feet were stabbing the threadbare crimson velvet from underneath.

Amazingly, he didn’t stop to threaten me again. He just passed by with a sound like fresh-tanned leather crumpling and banged
out the door, leaving a scrim of evil little laughter in his wake. I let out the breath I hadn’t been holding—I’d inhaled
deeply, ready for the explosion.

“Now you, Perry.” Thunder smoked and roiled under Galina’s voice. “I’ve business to transact with Jill.”

“What if I do, too?” He grinned and leaned forward, his toes digging into the floor. “Business with
my
hunter.”

“Perry.” Just the one word. Galina’s eyes turned incandescent. The silver at her throat sparked, a clean springtime green
swirling at the surface of the metal. “It would be
undignified
to be tossed out of here on your ass.”

“True.” He rocked back on his heels, grinned at both of us. “I bid you a civil adieu, then, ladies.” A wink and a flash of
pearly teeth between his bloodless lips, and he slid past me like a burning wind. Halfway out the door he vanished, leaving
behind strangled little whispers before the door banged closed and I heard footsteps pattering away down the street, far too
fast and light to be human.

My shoulders dropped. I let out another, far gustier sigh, and Galina swayed before she pulled herself upright. The glass
on the floor quivered again. I watched as the broken pieces of the display case twitched slightly, arranged along spiraling
rays of reaction.

Huh. That’s interesting.

Saul’s hands caught my shoulders. “You okay?” He sounded worried.

I realized the scar was twitching against the underside of my arm as if an enthusiastic seamstress was pleating the skin.
At least Perry hadn’t really tried to play with it. “Just ducky. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Someone’s looking to kill Cirque
performers?”

Galina said it, so I didn’t have to. “Or they have a deeper plan, and they’re going to try to pin anything that happens on
you. I don’t like this.”

“Sorry about your display case.” I stared, willing the pattern to come clear, and finally blinked it away when it refused.
Hunters always become full-blown psychics before the end of their apprenticeships; damn useful when dealing with the nightside.
But sometimes intuition won’t tell you anything. It will just muddy the waters.

I looked up to find the Sanctuary studying me, a line between her dark eyebrows. “Don’t worry about that.” Galina was pale,
and shaking just the slightest bit.

“Oh, Christ,” I said. “Drop the other shoe. And get me some more ammo. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”