Hang Wire (24 page)

The members – new and old – of Stonefire looked a mess. She’d noticed them get worse over the last week – wearing their leathers around the clock, even sleeping in them, lying around their bonfire in the open. The costumes left little to the imagination – men and women included – but the group was now so dirty, covered in black ash, that it was hard to tell where the costumes ended and bare flesh began.

They were all taking it a little too seriously. Nadine felt a little odd in her gray suit, but at least she was a professional, unlike these losers.

“Hey!” she yelled. “What the fuck?” She stepped forward, from the dry grass to the blackened, burned ground. As her shoes kicked up the ash, she felt a tingle, a vibration through the soles of her feet. She wasn’t religious, not at all, but she had the strangest feeling she was walking on sacred ground, like there was something in the air, a physical presence, someone… watching. She pushed the thought from her mind and folded her arms as Malcolm turned from the fire and looked at her. His face was covered in black ash –
deliberately
covered, Nadine realized – and when he smiled, his teeth formed a bright white line across his face.

She shook her head, waved at the bonfire.

“What the hell are you doing? There’s no show, not any more. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re kinda out of business here.”

Malcolm laughed. “We prepare our altar, woman.”

Nadine paused. Woman? Good lord above. This was getting beyond ridiculous.

“An
altar
. Jesus, Malcolm, you can cut the whole tribal bullshit now. And put the fucking fire out. We need to start packing the tents up.”

There was something wrong with Malcolm’s smile. It was cruel and knowing. Arrogant.

“Malcolm,” said Nadine, stepping closer, lowering her voice. “We’re finished, OK? The circus is finished. Show’s over.”

Malcolm didn’t move. It was like he wasn’t even breathing, and Nadine wasn’t quite sure he was blinking either. She looked around, at the other members of his troupe. The drumming had stopped along with the dancing. They now formed a circle around her and Malcolm. Still, unmoving. She turned around to face them.

“Look, I know. This isn’t good for anyone, believe me. But Mr Newhaven and I need to talk about it, and then we’ll discuss the future of the circus with you all. We want this to work out as best we can.”

There was no reaction. The dancers stood in the circle, staring at her. Nadine held her hand up over her brow, shading the sun. Were they not breathing either? She shook her head and turned back to Malcolm.

“The business of your world is of no concern to Belenus.” Malcolm’s lip curled into a snarl. Behind him, the bonfire flared, flames as tall as the Big Top licking into the blue sky. Then he turned around and walked toward the blaze.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Nadine followed Malcolm to the fire. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

Malcolm stopped. Nadine tapped the big man on his back. His leather jerkin was moist, slick, and left a black residue on her fingertips. She rubbed it between her finger and thumb, which only spread the greasy substance more. He stood and stared at the fire, ignoring her.

“Fine,” she said. “Fuck, whatever. Enjoy your goddamn fire. We’re finished, but hey, don’t let that stop you.”

She spun around, but there were dancers right behind her. She jerked back in surprise, then tried to sidestep. They matched her movement, holding their arms wide like they were herding a lost sheep.

“Get the fuck out of my way.”

“We are not ended, woman.”

Nadine turned around. Malcolm was facing the fire, his arms outstretched, embracing it.

“We are
reborn
.”

The feeling of presence was back, stronger now. A vibration, the ground
humming
like an electricity transformer.

“Where there is death there is power,” said Malcolm. “Where there is power there is life.”

The humming made Nadine’s jaw hurt. The drumming started again, then the dancing, as the members of Stonefire and the rest of the circus began to orbit the bonfire. The three dancers behind her stamped their feet, chanting in what Nadine assumed was Gaelic.

Malcolm stepped up to the fire and fell to his knees. Nadine wanted to reach forward, make him stop, pull him back, but she couldn’t move. Malcolm was in the edge of the fire, and it cracked and spat around him, showering his shoulders in embers that glowed brighter than they should have in the afternoon sun.

He began to dig, clawing at the earth. It was dry and came away in great handfuls. Very quickly there were two piles of carbon and dirt on either side of him.

Then, as Nadine watched, he stood, and reached down with one arm. From the hole, a black arm emerged, grabbed Malcolm’s, and Malcolm pulled.

It was a woman, young and small. She was naked, although covered entirely in black ash. Her eyes were brilliant against her blackened face as she blinked in the light. She smiled, her teeth white, white.

Nadine shook her head and forced herself to move, to run, away from the madness, away from something that couldn’t be happening. But all she managed to do was trip backward, falling into the three dancers behind her. They grabbed her arms, held her up.

Malcolm kissed the girl’s black hand, and turned to the dancers. The drumming reached a crescendo, and then fell silent. The dancers stopped moving.

The girl glanced at Nadine. It was Sara. She tilted her head as she looked at Nadine. Then she looked up at Malcolm.

“I am Belenus,” she said. “We are Belenus, and Belenus rises.”

The leader of Stonefire laughed, throwing his head back. Sara stepped over to Nadine, her black, smoking body a beautiful horror, her hair matted with something dark and sticky. She reached out to Nadine.

Nadine passed out.

— XXVI —

“What will happen to him, do you think?”

Bob didn’t answer. He and Benny had been walking half an hour, searching in vain for Ted. Benny had made a mistake leaving Ted in the apartment, but Bob thought maybe he shouldn’t be quite so hard on her. Benny’s entire family tree had carried the spirit of Tangun the Founder through it, down generation after generation, century after century, until such a time as the god was needed on Earth again. That time had come, and that responsibility had fallen on Benny’s shoulders.

Then again, from what Bob had seen, Tangun himself didn’t seem particularly cooperative. Bob considered him a friend now but, honestly, he hadn’t really known him that well, back
then
. The gods and goddesses numbered in the thousands, and while they were all kith and kin, there were plenty Bob –
Kanaloa
– hadn’t dealt with. Kali. Sousson-Pannan. Gozer the Gozerian. Olorun. And Tangun too, until recently, at least. After the rest had left. And there were still things he didn’t understand about the warrior king.

Bob wondered what it was like for Benny. She was just a regular girl, with no particular choice in the matter, her family blessed – or cursed – by the burden of their ancestors. Tangun had left the world like
They
all had. And, it seemed, like the others had fallen a little out of touch.

And if hadn’t been for the power burning Ted up from the inside, then Tangun’s little sleep command would have been just fine.

“Bob?”

Bob stopped. Benny too.

Bob smiled. “Sorry. What will happen to Ted? I guess the best option is if the power just kills him.”

“Dude,” said Benny, taking a step closer. They had stopped in the middle of the street, outside a clothing store. In the window was a display of vintage denim jeans, matching Bob’s own pair. “That’s the best option? What’s the worst?”

“The worst would be if he loses control completely. At the moment, Ted is still there, somewhere. He has, what, fifty percent possession?”

“Maybe less.”

“Right, maybe less. If the power takes him over completely, then what? He becomes a god. A
new
god. One who doesn’t know what he can do.”

“Oh,” said Benny.

“Right, ‘oh’. And it might be academic, anyway.” He looked down at the sidewalk, then glanced sideways at Benny.

“Oh,” said Benny again. “This… thing. You think it’s waking up, for real?”

Bob sucked in his cheeks, then nodded.

“And when it does,” said Benny, “there goes the city, right?”

Bob fixed Benny with a stare. “Maybe not just the city.”

Benny’s eyes went wide. “OK. So… why can’t you just flex a bit of muscle? Find Ted, stop the whatever-it-is from waking up? You’re a god too and–”

Bob stepped up to Benny and pushed her back against the store window. Benny hit it with a thud. Bob moved back a little, in case they were getting attention from passersby, or people in the shop.

“I am not Kanaloa. My name is Bob. I am not a god. I am a person just like you.”

“But–”

“Don’t ever ask me again,” said Bob.

Benny blanched and shrank back, pushing herself against the glass behind her. “Sorry.”

Bob took a deep breath, and brushed Benny’s shoulder down with his hand, embarrassed at his outburst. Benny was a new kid but she had to know.

“It’s all I can do to hold myself back,” said Bob. He looked around, smiling, nodding to a few people on the sidewalk who seemed to recognize who he was, even in the white linen shirt. He spoke softly, trying to be inconspicuous. Not that it really mattered. Nobody who overhead would believe what he was saying. “If I just stretch out my hand, pluck Ted out of the crowd, I might decide I can do something else too. You know, I haven’t eaten in a long, long time.”

“Eaten?”

Bob turned to Benny, and he smiled. Benny flinched.

“Remember what Kanaloa was god of, Benny.” Then he turned, and walked down the street, anger fading. But there was hunger inside him. He sighed, rolled his shoulders, and turned. “Benny?”

His friend pointed across the street. Then someone cried out.

“Is anyone a doctor?”

Bob jogged back to Benny. “What’s going on?”

“Dude, that was Ted. He collapsed on the sidewalk.”

Bob was halfway across the street already.

Bob pushed his way through the onlookers. He was surprised so many people had stopped to help. Maybe it was because the man lying on the street looked like one of them – smart brown jacket, sensible haircut, shoes that were not expensive but well chosen. Bob felt like telling the crowd that perhaps they should show the same care to those who lived rough on the streets of San Francisco, but decided to save it for another time.

It was Ted all right. He was lying on his side, curled in a fetal position. Bob dropped to the sidewalk, kneeling next to a woman who was loosening the top buttons of Ted’s shirt. She glanced at him.

“You a doctor?”

“Ah, no, ma’am. I’m a friend of this guy.”

The woman leaned back a little and looked Bob up and down. The ill-fitting linen shirt. The old, faded jeans. The bare feet. The long hair.

She pushed Bob away. Bob, surprised, fell back onto his ass. “Hey!”

“Fuck off,” said the woman. “You’re not taking his wallet!”

“His wallet?”

The woman stood up. One of those standing near had his cellphone to his ear. He tilted it down and waved at her. “There’s an ambulance coming.”

“Call the police too,” said the woman. She turned and pointed at Bob, now standing. “This guy tried to steal his wallet.”

“Ah, ma’am,” said Bob, backing away, hands in the air. One of the men in the crowd stepped forward and shoved Bob’s shoulder, his nostrils flaring. Someone else tapped him on the shoulder.

“Isn’t that the guy from the beach?”

A ripple spread around the group.

“The dance guy?”

“That bum?”

“Isn’t his name Bob?”

“That’s not Bob.”

“I took my mom down there just last week.”

“Dude,” said Benny, pushing her way in. The man who had shoved Bob turned on Benny, but Benny just nodded at him and grabbed Bob by the shoulders, pulling him back a little.

“What’s gotten into them?” asked Benny.

“We have to get him out of here,” said Bob.

“Dude, I know.” Benny looked down at Ted. “At least he’s sleeping again–”

They both turned at the sound of approaching sirens. An ambulance pulled up, the crowd parting to let two paramedics through.

“Oh great,” said Bob. He reached forward to tap one of the paramedics on the shoulder, but the man who had pushed him blocked his path and shoved him back again.

“Cut it out!” the paramedic said.

The other man nodded at Bob. “This guy’s trying to steal his wallet.”

“Look, I’m a
friend
of his,” said Bob. “His name is Ted –
Theodore Kane
. Check his wallet yourself. You’ll see.”

The paramedic joined his colleague, who had put an oxygen mask on Ted and was trying to talk to him. The first paramedic reached inside Ted’s jacket, extracted a wallet, and from that a driver’s license.

“Theodore Kane,” he read.

“Went to school together,” said Bob. “Ted’s a freelance writer. Doing work for the Bay Blog.”

“Fine,” said the paramedic. “We’re taking him to the hospital. You can ride with us.”

Benny tugged Bob’s arm. “Will he be safe in the hospital?”

“He won’t be safe anywhere.”

— XXVII —

The apartment was – as she’d feared – exactly as Alison had left it. She’d even paused in the hallway, key in the lock, listening, before she pushed the door open slowly. Like it was the door to Narnia, to the magic kingdom, to her normal life and Ted’s normal life. Where nothing had ever happened.

But it was just the same. The laptop on the table, closed. The door to the bedroom ajar. The apartment empty. Ted gone.