FOURTEEN.

The Eighth Sacrifice This time, with a thunderous drum-roll, all of the curtains were drawn back. Immediately, out poured a crowd of clowns, acrobats, dancers, jugglers, fire breathers and wildly a.s.sorted freaks.

Even though the Night Warriors were themselves dressed in bizarre costumes, suitable only for fighting in nightmares, they stared at Brother Albrecht's circus performers in disbelief. A legless man in a scarlet satin costume turned backward flip-flaps all the way across the stage, while a one-legged woman in a ballet tutu spun around and around so fast that it was almost impossible to see her face - until she eventually stopped spinning, and they could see that she had the long narrow snout and the gla.s.sy yellow eyes of a timber wolf.

Crawling awkwardly around in the background was a whey-faced boy with a pudding-basin haircut and a black one-piece swimming-costume of the style worn by men in the nineteen-twenties. He had to crawl - or to lurch, rather - because both of his legs had been replaced by somebody else's arms, and two more arms had been surgically attached to the sides of his body. He had six arms altogether, so that he looked like a human spider, and that was probably how Brother Albrecht billed him.

Xyrena stared at all of these monstrosities and shook her head. 'Dom Magator, I think you need to get in here with that Absence Gun of yours and de-exist everything in here. I can't believe what I'm looking at. This isn't just revenge on G.o.d. This is revenge against everything that ever lived.'

Even as she spoke, a fire breather in a spangled costume tilted his head back and blew a fine haze of lamp oil into the air. The oil drifted back downward, and it was only then that he ignited it, so that for a few seconds his entire head was on fire, his eyes closed but his mouth wide open in a silent scream. He stepped back grinning in a cloud of smoke, his face blackened, with the tips of both ears still alight, so that he looked like a demon freshly arrived from h.e.l.l. Almost immediately a woman appeared beside him in a bonnet decorated with crimson ostrich plumes, and a crimson crinoline dress. Her face was beautiful but mask-like, as if she were a porcelain doll rather than a human being. Her bodice was unlaced to expose what should have been her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but her b.r.e.a.s.t.s had been removed and replaced with two breast-shaped birdcages with blue c.o.c.katiels perched inside. The c.o.c.katiels fluttered and squawked while the woman smiled serenely at the audience and gave them little Marie Antoinette waves.

Jemexxa gripped Jekkalon's hand and said, 'Look - look! It's Mom!'

Sure enough, their mother Demi the Demi-G.o.ddess was being wheeled on to the stage by Zachary. She was balanced on a small gilded cart with a black velvet cushion on it. She was staring unfocused at nothing at all.

'We could s.n.a.t.c.h her,' breathed Jekkalon. 'We could run down there and s.n.a.t.c.h her and they wouldn't even know what had hit them.'

'No, you couldn't,' said Dom Magator, close to his ear. 'You'd be caught before you got anywhere near her, and you'd f.u.c.k up this whole operation. So don't even think about it, you hear?'

'Yeah, OK. I know. Sorry. It's just seeing her like that. It doesn't matter what they've done to her, she's still our mom.'

'I know that. But concentrate, dude. Any sign of the Big Cheese yet?'

'Not so far.'

But he had barely spoken when there was another flourish of trumpets, and out of the darkness at the back of the stage rolled a four-wheeled contraption about the size of a stagecoach, with huge spoked wheels. It was painted glossy black, with a domed canopy of black leather, which completely concealed its occupant.

It was being pushed forward by naked men and women, at least ten of them, every inch of whose bodies was decorated with tattoos, although the Night Warriors were too far away at the back of the big top to see what the designs were. But what they could see was that all of their legs had been amputated below the knee and replaced with much longer prosthetic legs with absurdly high heels, more like designer boots than feet, so that all of them, both men and women, stood well over six-and-a-half feet tall. Their heads had been shaved and fitted with crowns and antlers and bells. They jingled as they walked, and the wheels of the black contraption squeaked in accompaniment.

The black contraption was rolled right up to the chair where Maria Fortales was tied, and then it stopped. The naked men and women remained where they were, standing beside it, motionless. Xyrena could see now that their genitalia had been tied up tightly with elaborate cat's-cradles of very thin twine, so that their flesh bulged in diamond-shaped patterns. Now Mago Verde came prancing forward, bowing and nodding his head.

'Here it is, Brother Albrecht! The eighth offering! How close we are now, to the great day of glory! Only one more sacrifice to bring back to you after this one, and then you can cry out up stakes! and wagons roll! and return to the world where men can really be tortured and women can really be fondled!'

The ringmaster stepped up now, and took hold of the framework of the black canopy which covered the inside of the black contraption. 'Ladies and gentlemen! And those undecided! I proudly present to you... the Grand Freak, Brother Albrecht!'

He was just about to raise the canopy, however, when Xyrena felt something wrench violently at her sleeve - something so strong that she was pulled right around in a semicircle and almost lost her balance. At the same time, she was half deafened by a screech and a chattering noise, and then a nasal voice shouting out, 'Arresto! Parada! Ne soulevez pas la canopy! Wij hebben hier strangers! Arresto! Parado!'

Jekkalon and Jemexxa turned around, too. Tearing at Xyrena's sleeve was the rat-creature that they had first encountered when they came looking for their mother. Now that they could see it close up, they realized that it was much more human than rat, and although it was so diminutive, and so hunched-up, it was more man than boy. It was wearing the same yellow tweed coat as before, and a strange pair of brown britches with b.u.t.toned-up spats.

'Don't open up the verriere!' it screamed. 'Questa gente - they are spies! Feinde! Enemies!'

'Let go of me, you freak!' Xyrena snapped at it, pulling her sleeve free. 'We're not spies! We just came to see the show!'

'Ha! Ha! Vous say that?' the rat-creature retorted. 'This show is invitation only, for people who are dreaming Brother Albrecht's dream. Are you dreaming Brother Albrecht's dream, or etes vous poking in your nosepipe?'

On all sides, the audience were twisting around in their seats to see what the tussling was all about. From the stage, the ringmaster bellowed out, 'Brown Jenkin! Bring them up here! Let's see who they are, shall we, these spies of yours? Come on! Bring them up here!'

Xyrena said to Dom Magator, 'They've caught us out, John.'

'Yes, I get that. Just don't panic.'

'What shall we do? Zap 'em?'

'No - not yet!' Dom Magator cautioned her. 'We need to take out this Grand Freak first. Without him, none of this would exist, so try to play along for now. An-Gryferai is airborne already, right above you, and me and Zebenjo'Yyx, we're moving in to give you some close support. We won't let you down, sweetheart, I promise you.'

'I just don't want them to cut my arms off or turn me into a schnauzer, that's all.'

'Trust me, Xyrena, not a chance of that.'

Five burly circus hands in gray coveralls had come around from the rear of the big top, cutting off any chance of escape. Not that they wanted to escape: first of all they wanted to confront Brother Albrecht. Brown Jenkin tugged at Xyrena's cloak and said, 'Come on, then, ma belle! Up on the stage, you lovely nudie lady! You make me want to suck your breast b.u.t.tons! You make me want to stick my fingers into your sticky p.u.s.s.y-pie!'

Jekkalon said, 'Xyrena - want me to fry the little b.a.s.t.a.r.d? Just say the word!'

But Xyrena said, 'No. We want to get your mom out of here, don't we? And like Dom Magator said, we don't know if they have any weapons, or some other way of defending themselves.'

Inside their helmets, they heard Zebenjo'Yyx say, 'Keep cool, OK? Me and the Dom, we're right outside now. We're only seconds away if you need us.'

Xyrena, Jekkalon and Jemexxa followed Brown Jenkin as he bustled down the aisle toward the stage. The noise from the audience and the performers on the stage was deafening - shouting and whistling and clapping and stamping of feet. Jemexxa hesitated as they approached the ap.r.o.n, but the circus hands were right behind them, and one of them gave her backpack a shove.

'Hey!' Jekkalon protested, turning around and raising his fist; but Xyrena took hold of his arm and said, 'Let it be, Jekkalon. You'll have your turn.'

Brown Jenkin led them up three steps on to the stage, and they were immediately surrounded by a ma.s.s of clowns and freaks and little people, all pushing at each other so they could touch them and prod them and pull at Xyrena's cloak. In their Night Warriors outfits, they were just as much of a curiosity to the carnival folk as the carnival folk were to them. Jekkalon elbowed his way through them, although one dwarf retaliated by kicking him in the shin.

'You little s.h.i.t!' Jekkalon shouted at him, but by then the dwarf had scrambled back into the crowd.

'Over here, strangers!' called Mago Verde, and beckoned them over to the black coach-contraption. Its black leather canopy was still tightly closed, so that it looked like a giant woodlouse. Xyrena walked across the stage first, with a seductive sway of her hips. Mago Verde eyed her up and down with his eyes glittering, twisting the ends of his hair between his fingers.

'Well, well! And aren't you something? Where have you appeared from, you temptress? What a crown you're wearing! You look like the Queen of Someplace-or-Other.'

Xyrena said nothing, but gave him a provocative smile.

Mago Verde's hand moved down and adjusted the crotch of his pants. Xyrena kept on smiling because she knew what effect she was having on him - the same effect that she had on everybody.

'You're not from here, are you?' asked Mago Verde. He leaned closer to her, so that she could see the fine fissures in his green-and-gray greasepaint. She could even smell it, as well as stale tobacco, and his vinegary body odor. 'In fact, you are the Queen of Someplace-or-Other, aren't you? Here, and there. The Land of Awake and the Land of Fast Asleep.

He paused, and then he said, 'In fact - you're not having this dream, are you, like all of these other poor suckers in the audience? You're like me, aren't you, honey-dripper? You're just visiting. Except that - unlike me - you weren't invited. Not by me, or Zachary, and not by Brother Albrecht, neither. So what in the name of all that's unholy are you doing here?'

Xyrena took two steps nearer to him, so that she could lay both of her hands on the dusty shoulders of his black suit.

'You got wood, don't you?' she murmured.

'What?' He leaned his head forward. He hadn't heard her clearly, because of the hubbub from the audience and the freaks who were still crowding around them.

'I said, "You got wood." Your p.e.c.k.e.r is so hard you could drill a hole in the ground with it, and you're just aching to push it inside me, aren't you? You think you'll go crazy with l.u.s.t if you don't.'

Mago Verde stared at her, and for the first time she saw uncertainty in his eyes. 'Who the h.e.l.l are you?' he said, his voice even hoa.r.s.er than ever, so that he had to clear his throat.

'My darling...' Xyrena purred at him. 'I am anybody you want me to be, and then some. You feel like you're going to explode, don't you? Can you imagine me sucking you? Can you imagine the tip of my tongue swimming round and around you, like an eel?'

With a grunt of frustration, Mago Verde gripped both of Xyrena's wrists and gradually lifted her hands off his shoulders. He was trembling all over with the sheer effort of resisting her, as if he were lifting two hundred-pound barbells instead of a woman's arms. 'Ringmaster!' he shouted. 'Open the canopy! Let the Grand Freak see who has come to pay tribute to him!'

Xyrena kept on smiling at him. 'So that's it! You don't dare to give in to those baser instincts, do you? - not in front of your lord and master! But if the Grand Freak hadn't been here, you would have done, wouldn't you? You would have screwed me in front of all of these people, wouldn't you, and reveled in it! You would have danced around the stage crowing like a barnyard c.o.c.kerel! But oh, no! You don't dare, do you? Not in front of your lord and master!'

In truth, Xyrena's heart was banging inside of her breastplate and she was terrified about what was going to happen next. But she still felt an enormous power over Mago Verde, and over every man and woman and freak who was cl.u.s.tering around her. She aroused them, she made their blood tingle, in spite of themselves. Mago Verde wanted her. They all wanted her. She induced the kind of l.u.s.tful hysteria that led men to rape the plainest of women and women to submit to men whom they hated. The ringmaster's face was so congested that it was almost purple. His eyes were bulging and she could tell that she had pumped up his blood pressure, too.

He cracked his whip, however, and bellowed, 'All hail to the Great Creator of Nightmares, the Arch-Dreamer, the Grand Freak himself, Brother Albrecht!' - cracking his whip again and again to accentuate each syllable.

At the same time, he turned a handle on the side of the four-wheeled contraption, like the handle of an old-fashioned sewing-machine, and as he did so, the black leather canopy gradually began to fold up, revealing what was hidden underneath it.

Everybody on the stage dropped on to one knee - those who had knees - and everybody who was wearing any kind of hat or headgear removed it, and held it reverently against their chests.

'Your crown, you b.i.t.c.h!' Mago Verde hissed at Xyrena. 'Take off your crown!'

'I don't take off my crown for anyone,' Xyrena retorted. 'You said it yourself, didn't you? Yes? I'm the Queen of Someplace-or-Other.'

'Then tell your friends to take off their helmets!'

'They're not my friends, they're my bodyguards, and they never remove their helmets.'

Mago Verde was obviously furious, but it was too late now. The black leather canopy had been folded right back - and there, exposed for everybody to see - was Brother Albrecht, the Grand Freak, der Ursprungliche Sohn des Teufel, the Original Son of the Devil.

's.h.i.t,' said Jekkalon, and Jemexxa whispered, 'Oh, my G.o.d.' Even Xyrena, who was trying to keep up her sa.s.sy streetwalker act, was taken aback. She had to take three quick breaths to steady herself before she said, 'Dom Magator, he's right here! Center stage! Brother Albrecht, in the flesh! Or what's left of him.'

The four-wheeled contraption contained a sh.e.l.l-shaped seat, upholstered in worn black leather, and inside this sh.e.l.l-shaped seat sat Brother Albrecht. He was dressed in a sleeveless jerkin of brown velvet with a high collar embroidered with gold thread. His arms were nothing but stumps and his legs had been sawn off at the knees, but his shoulders and his chest were muscular and well developed. It was his face, though, that had caused Xyrena to catch her breath. He was devastatingly handsome, with sapphire-blue eyes and chiseled cheekbones and a wide, strong jaw. His lips were sensual and slightly parted, as if he had just finished kissing someone, or saying something deeply suggestive. His hair was long and blond and tangled, but tied up with fraying golden cords, and decorated with dead white flowers. He could have been the model for a Pre-Raphaelite portrait of Jesus.

Brother Albrecht's jerkin was open to the navel, and like the naked men and women who had escorted his contraption on to the stage, his body was decorated up to the neck with a swarming ma.s.s of tattoos - scores of intertwined ill.u.s.trations of devils and monsters and women performing grotesque s.e.xual acts with dogs and goats and slavering demons. It looked, in fact, as if he had turned himself into a living blasphemy - a challenge to everybody who had faith. Look at me! I dare you to turn your face away! Christians took my arms and my legs and turned me into a freak and banished me for ever! Would you have any faith in the Lord, if He had allowed you to be reduced to this?

In a deep, blurry voice, he said, 'Mein achtes Geschank. My eighth gift. Is it here?'

'Hier, Ihre Anbetung,' chittered Brown Jenkin. 'Recht vor Inhnen. Allbe bereit geandert zu werden.'

Brother Albrecht arched his back so that he could peer over the side of his black contraption, where Maria Fortales was sitting tied to her bentwood chair. He stared at her for a long time without saying anything. Maria Fortales was sobbing now, not only from the persistent pain from her double amputation, but in utter despair and disbelief. She repeatedly threw her head from side to side and kept twisting her body in her efforts to get herself free.

'Sie ist volkommen,' Brother Albrecht nodded, at last. 'She is perfect. Sie haben gut getan, Mago Verde. You have done well.'

Mago Verde bowed in acknowledgement. 'For you, master, anything. I know that you will reward me generously when the time comes.'

'Her new arms?' asked Brother Albrecht. 'Ihre neuen Arme? Are they ready yet?'

Xyrena was surprised that he spoke English, even if he did speak it with a very thick German accent, and not with any kind of German accent that she had ever heard before. A medieval German accent, she guessed. But then she thought: this is a dream, after all, and it's his dream, so I guess he can speak any language that he wants to, in his own dream.

Mago Verde waggled the fingers of both hands at the ringmaster. Whatever this signal meant, the ringmaster clearly understood it, because he wheeled around on his heel and let out a piercing two-fingered whistle. From behind the curtains somebody called out, 'Almost ready, signore! Almost ready!'

'Then quick! At the double! You are keeping the Grand Freak waiting!'

Mago Verde leaned over the side of Brother Albrecht's seat and said, 'Your attention, please, your worship. Before we give this divine young lady her new arms, I have to tell you that we have three unexpected visitors.'

Xyrena tilted her head toward her microphone. 'Are you there, John?' she asked Dom Magator. 'It looks like we're going to be needing some backup in a couple of minutes.'

'We're right outside the big top, sweetheart. Locked and loaded, both of us. An-Gryferai is dead overhead.'

Brother Albrecht focused his sapphire-blue eyes on Xyrena and gave her a penetrating look that made her feel as she had become as transparent as water, and that he could see right through her armor to her naked body, and into her very bones. Into her thoughts, too, and her emotions, and everything that she had ever said or done or cared about.

'How can a visitor be unexpected?' he said. He looked at Jekkalon and Jemmexa, too. 'How can you three people walk into my dream without my dreaming it? Es ist nicht moglich.'

Jekkalon stepped forward. 'No disrespect, dude. We heard about your circus and we just wanted to take a look for ourselves. Me and my sister, we're acrobats. Trapeze artists. We have a kind of professional interest, if you know what I mean. We only wanted to size up the compet.i.tion.'

'Mago Verde?' Brother Albrecht demanded. 'How did these people get here? Are they real, or do they come from somebody else's dream?'

'Oh, they're real all right, your worship. As real as I am. But I don't yet know where they come from, or how they got here.'

Brother Albrecht said to Xyrena, 'Come here, Fraulein. I want to look at you.'

Under her breath, Xyrena said to Dom Magator, 'He wants me to come closer. With any luck I'll give him the twitch, too.'

'Just play it cool, Xyrena,' Dom Magator warned her.

'What's he going to do? Grab ahold of me? Chase me round the stage? The guy doesn't have any legs.'

'Just watch yourself, that's all. He hasn't survived for eight centuries without having some kind of serious power.'

Xyrena approached the black contraption and then stood in front of Brother Albrecht, her chin tilted up defiantly, her coronet shining, her heavy golden cloak rippling behind her in a wind that n.o.body else could feel.

Brother Albrecht said, 'What is your name, Fraulein?'

'Xyrena. Well - among others. My daddy used to call me his little Fruit-Loop.'

'Are you real, Xyrena?'

'The last time I looked in the mirror, yes.'

'You come from the waking world, nicht wahr? How did you get here? You realize that this is my dream, this circus? Mein Traum, verstehen Sie?'

'I know that. But you have plenty of real people here already, don't you? We didn't think you'd object to two or three more. And we're only pa.s.sing through, you know? Like Jekkalon says, we're taking a professional interest, that's all.'

Brother Albrecht's left eyelid twitched, as if he had a nervous tic. As haughty as he was, Xyrena guessed that their appearance in his dream had not only baffled him but troubled him, too. It was even more obvious that he was beginning to feel the effect of her s.e.xuality. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and between his thighs his brown velvet jerkin had visibly started to swell, and she knew that she was arousing him.

'Tell me, Xyrena,' said Brother Albrecht. 'Do I know you?'

'I very much doubt it, unless you've ever been to The Knick Bar in Milwaukee.'

'Are you a witch?'