Hang Wire (35 page)

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Authors: Adam Christopher

Tags: #urban fantasy, #San Francisco, #The Big One, #circus shennanigans, #Hang Wire Killer, #dream walking, #ancient powers, #immortal players

BOOK: Hang Wire
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Ted willed the voice in his head to come back, but there was nothing there. Perhaps that was part of the dream too.
“You don’t know, do you?”
Ted looked down at the man in the hat. He stepped forward, into better light, and Ted could see that he had one eye that was gray, almost white. In one hand he rolled a large gold coin over his knuckles. The girl beside him followed.
Ted gasped.
“Alison! Alison! What’s going on? What are you doing here?”
Alison swayed gently on her feet. She looked up at him, but it was like she didn’t recognize him, or even understand what he was saying. She was painted in something black and rough, like dirt, or ash.
The man with the gray eye laughed and looked at Alison. Then he turned around, his arms out, indicating the circle of people in the carnival.
“The power works many wonders, my friend. Many wonders indeed. Why, from the very earth itself it shapes life, the arms and legs and ears and eyes that it doesn’t have. It could build its own army.” The man’s accent was southern. To Ted he sounded like a used car salesman showing his latest model.
Ted looked around the circle. They were all the same as Alison – standing, swaying, glassy eyed, all covered in black dirt. The soldiers Ted could now see were carved wooden statues, just part of the fairground attractions.
“What have you done to them?” Ted strained against the machine that held him. The structure rattled, but held firm. He was helpless.
“I don’t think you quite understand my meaning, friend,” said the man in the hat. He turned around. “They’re not people, only their shadows. Golems, you might call them. Including your lovely friend here. Brought to life with earth and fire by the Thing Beneath. A thing which I control.”
The man on the ground craned his neck up as he walked closer to Ted. He pointed at him. “But you, my friend. Oh my yes,
you
. You’re different.”
He took a step back. The carnival machines began to move – two stalls, on each side, folded in on themselves, filling the air with the sound of creaking metal. As Ted watched, they screwed themselves up, tearing canvas and metal, breaking lights and signage, until they were each a bizarre, insectoid thing. They crawled toward their master; then together they unfolded their former flat frontages, enameled panels showing a starscape, into a small platform. The man stepped onto it, and held his hand out. Alison – whatever it was that looked like Alison – took his hand and joined him on the platform.
The two machines changed again, reshaping themselves as they lifted the platform up, raising the pair to Ted’s level.
“That’s better,” he said. “Now we can talk, man to man.”
Ted looked at the golem. It was a perfect copy of Alison. If this was her shadow, brought to life, then–
“What happened to Alison?”
The man shook his head. “Alison, Sara, Kara, Lucy, Lotta, all of them. They don’t matter. We have more important things to discuss, friend, than–”
“What happened to her?”
The man jumped forward, to the edge of the platform.
“There’s more at stake here, friend!” he screamed, whipping his hat off, his eyes narrow, white spittle collected at the corner of his mouth.
Ted looked at the golem. It was still looking at him, tilting its head, like a baby discovering something new. Was Alison dead? Was this all that was left? Was there anything of the original within her?
“Alison,” he said, “come on, it’s me. Ted.”
“Listen to me,” said the man. He slapped Ted, hard, across the cheek. Ted banged his head against the metal behind him, and after the electric sting of the slap faded, he felt something warm spread inside his cheek.
“You’re stuck here, because you followed the light, friend. You followed the same light as I!”
The man stretched his arms out. He was angry. Very angry.
“These are my machines. They’re filled with another power, the cold power of the stars and the dark. You can’t escape. You can’t leave. None of us can. The Cold Dark shone its light and brought me here, showed me the thing sleeping under the city, showed me how to control it. And you, you were brought here too, to me.” He leaned in to Ted so he could whisper. “Brought here for a reason, friend. A reason. Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand? The light has brought us together. It
knows
. But there’s something else, friend. I know too.”
Ted shook his head, and spat a sticky gob of blood onto the platform in front of him. The man’s eyes didn’t leave Ted’s face.
“Know what?” asked Ted.
“I know what you have,” said the man. “I know what’s in
there.”
He poked Ted’s chest.
“And what do I have?”
The man pulled back, almost like he was surprised. Then he laughed. “I wasn’t sure at first. The mysterious acrobat, appearing just like ‘that’.” He clicked his fingers. “Wowing the crowds and then chasing off into the night, after my puppet. But now I get it. Now I can
smell
it on you. You’ve got the secret. The means to freedom. You have the key.”
“The key to what?”
The man held his arms out. “The key to this prison. You’re my way out of this hell.”
Ted slumped in his bonds. It was too much. The guy was deranged. He felt a tickle at the back of his neck. Like his imaginary friend was back.
“What, you think I want to be like this?” asked the man, angry again. “You think I want to live forever? I’ve followed the light. The light has shown me the way, has led me. I’ve followed it. I’ve been faithful to it. The light, it shines for me. But you think I
want
that? This thing, the light, all it needs to do is feed so it can grow, and spread. And then what? What happens for me then?”
Ted shook his head. The man nodded in furious agreement.
“Yes, my friend! Yes! Nothing. Grow and spread, grow and spread. It’s kept me alive, nothing but a tool to be used, a puppet. I was a man like you once. And now I’m nothing. I don’t exist. There is nothing but the light.”
“I don’t understand. How can I free you?”
“I want it. I want what
you
have. In there.” The man tapped Ted’s chest again.
“I don’t know what you mean. What do I have?” The presence at his shoulder grew stronger. Ted felt the adrenaline pulse through his system.
“Give it to me!” said the man, “or I’ll destroy the city.”
— XLI —
SAN FRANCISCO
TODAY
The man’s white eye shone red. Ted tried to shrink back against the Ferris wheel, but there was nowhere to go. The presence at his shoulder was so strong now, it felt like it was pushing him towards the man in black.
“I can command it,” said the man. He nodded. “Oh yes, friend. I might be a prisoner, but I can
command
it.”
The Ferris wheel shook, the metal clattering around Ted. Then he realized it wasn’t the Ferris wheel, it was the ground. The whole carnival was shaking with the earth.
“He can’t help you, and you can’t have it.”
A new voice. Ted looked up, and the man on the platform spun around. On the grass below a new arrival walked forward, ignoring the circle of golems and the frozen wooden soldiers, wearing nothing but blue jeans, the lights of the carnival reflecting off his naked torso, slick with sweat. The carnival machines around him twitched, but didn’t move as he walked.
Ted looked on in confusion. “Bob?”
Bob saluted. “Welcome back, Ted. Seems you found the source. Good work.”
Ted shook his head and pushed his arms against the metal frame holding him. “I think it found me. I was just following –”
Ted stopped, his forehead creased in concentration.
Bob nodded. “Don’t tell me. A voice in your head? A push on the shoulder?”
“I… yes. That’s right. But–”
Bob held up his hands. “A little trick played by a magician called Nezha,” he said. “I’m sorry he picked you, Ted, I really am.”
The voice whispered in Ted’s ear as Bob spoke, but Ted couldn’t make it out. It sounded like it was speaking Chinese.
The man on the platform clapped, and put his hat back on.
“Well now, isn’t this interesting?” He tilted his head, like he was listening to something far away. “Kanaloa? Oh, you’re a long way from home. So that completes the picture for me and the Cold Dark. Now that you’ve joined this little soiree in person it can read you like a book, but it couldn’t figure
him
out. But you’re too late, friend. The means to freedom. It’s right here, and it’s mine.”
“I’m not sure the thing in your machines would agree with that,” said Bob. “And my name is Bob.” He nodded at Ted. “Are you OK?”
“Apart from being held hostage by a living circus, fine,” said Ted. “Do you know where Alison is?”
“She’s safe,” said Bob.
“Are you sure about that, ancient one?” The man on the platform gestured to the golem next to him. The creature slowly turned around, unsure on its feet.
Ted could see Bob frown.
“Oh, I’m sure,” said Bob. “That construct doesn’t look too good. It’s not complete, is it? Just an empty shell. It’s degraded already. Look.”
The man looked at the golem rocking on its heels. Bob was right. Ted could see the creature was dying. With each passing moment, it seemed harder and harder for it to stay on its feet.
Which meant… Alison was alive? Alison was alive!
Then the golem collapsed. It didn’t fall, it disintegrated, its legs crumbling first, then the body falling downward. It hit the platform and came apart softly, like it was dry, soft soil.
The man on the platform turned to Bob. He laughed. “So you stopped him in time, old one?”
Bob tilted his head. “You mean you don’t know?”
“Oh,” said the man. “Well, the connection was lost, so to speak. I have you to thank for that, I think. Oh, and your friend too. Now, tell me, where is
he
?”
Behind Bob, the circle of golems began to move. They closed in on Bob; all were clay and ash, but they moved fluidly, with purpose. The dead army of the circus. Bob glanced over his shoulder, then stuck his thumbs through the belt loops in his jeans and shrugged.
“Just you and me, brah.”
The man in black adjusted his hat and rolled his lips, looking out into the night from his platform. Then he smiled and nodded. “Seems like I’m not the only one with connections in this town.” He cocked his ear, listening to nothing, his lips moving. Communicating with the Cold Dark in the carnival machines. “I think maybe I should repay the favor.” He looked down on Bob.
As Ted watched, Bob’s hands dropped to his sides and he took a step backwards. He looked worried. He caught Ted’s eye, but Ted didn’t know what it meant.
“I don’t know who are you,” said Bob, his attention back on the man in black, “but you have to listen to me. The Cold Dark. It controls you, don’t you see? It’s given you something of its power, but it’s using you. You need to help me. You need to fight it with me. Send it back to the stars.”
The man in black shook his head. “You think I don’t know that? That’s why I want him. That’s why I want what’s
inside
him. It won’t let me go, not ever.” He pointed to the circle of golems, still closing in on Bob.
“But I
can
command the light, ancient one. And through it, I can command the Thing Beneath and its army of earth and fire.”
The golems marched forward while the carnival machines twitched and hummed in the night.

 

Now is our chance, Ted. I’m going to help you, but we only get one opportunity. Just one, Ted. Do you understand? Are you listening to me, Ted?
Ted felt dizzy, sleepy, felt like there were hands on his shoulders. The voice was back and loud in his head, echoing in from all around him. Nausea spread out from his stomach, the dizziness sending the world spinning. He squinted, tried to focus, but could see nothing but the golems surrounding Bob and the man in the hat stretching his arms out to the sky, hear nothing but the voice in his head, repeating the same thing over and over and over again.
You are the master of every situation.
You are the master of every situation.
You are the master of every situation.
Ted closed his eyes.
Highwire opened his.

 

Bob scanned the circle of golems advancing slowly toward him. They were made of earth and fire, and while he was a god, these weren’t his specialist elements. He was the lord of water, of life, and of death. The golems weren’t alive, merely instruments of the Thing Beneath, channeling energy from it. Energy commanded by the man in black. Bob pushed a little at the world and extracted the man’s identity: Joel Duvall, carnival operator. A man out of time. Bob frowned. The Cold Dark had kept him alive as its puppet for a century and a half. That was some power.
The circle got tighter.
He could fight them. He could destroy them. But what would the cost be? Once he started, could he stop himself? And what would it achieve? It was a distraction from the real menace – from Joel, the controller, the conduit for a cosmic force that didn’t belong on the Earth.
There was another problem, too. Benny. Bob reached out but there was nothing there, not anymore. The Cold Dark had been able to “see” Bob’s hold on Benny’s soul, and had cut it, just like that. Again, the power of the Cold Dark frightened Bob. He only hoped that Benny would survive long enough with her connection to Tangun for Bob to grab hold of the tether again. The short amount of time available just got a whole lot shorter.
Bob refocused on the problem at hand: on the circus, on the circle of golems crowding closer and closer around him.
Ted screamed. Bob spun around, but Ted was still trapped in the machinery of the Ferris wheel. His head turned from side to side, his face a mask of pain. He cried out again, and was still, his head slumped forward. Then it lifted again, slowly, and Ted opened his eyes. Something had changed, Bob could see that. The acrobat had taken over again.

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