Circus of the Damned - Laurell K. Hamilton [119]
There were a pair of wolves sitting at Jean-Claude’s feet. They stared at me with strange pale eyes. There was nothing human in the gaze. Real wolves. Where had he gotten real wolves?
I stood two steps down from him and his pet wolves. His face was unreadable, empty, and perfect.
“You look like something out of The Three Musketeers,” I said.
“Accurate, ma petite.”
“Is it your original century?”
He smiled a smile that could have meant anything, or nothing.
“What’s going to happen tonight, Jean-Claude?”
“Come, stand beside me, where my human servant belongs.” He extended a pale hand.
I ignored the hand and stepped up. He’d talked inside my head. It was getting silly to argue. Arguing didn’t make it not true.
One of the wolves growled low in its chest. I hesitated.
“They will not harm you. They are my creatures.”
Like me, I thought.
Jean-Claude put his hand down towards the wolf. It cringed and licked his hand. I stepped carefully around the wolf. But it ignored me, all its attention on Jean-Claude. It was sorry it had growled at me. It would do anything to make up for it. It groveled like a dog.
I stood at his right side, a little behind the wolf.
“I had picked out a lovely costume for you.”
“If it was anything that would have matched yours, I wouldn’t have worn it.”
He laughed, soft and low. The sound tugged at something low in my gut. “Stay here by the throne with the wolves while I make my speech.”
“We really are going to fight in front of the crowd.”
He stood. “Of course. This is the Circus of the Damned, and tonight is Halloween. We will show them a spectacle the likes of which they have never seen.”
“This is crazy.”
“Probably, but it keeps Oliver from bringing the building down around us.”
“Could he do that?”
“That and much more, ma petite, if we had not agreed to limit our use of such powers.”
“Could you bring the building down?”
He smiled, and for once gave me a straight answer. “No, but Oliver does not know that.”
I had to smile.
He draped himself over the throne, one leg thrown over a chair arm. He tucked his hat low until all I could see was his mouth. “I still cannot believe that you betrayed me, Anita.”
“You gave me no choice.”
“You would really see me dead rather than have the fourth mark.”
“Yep.”
He whispered, “Showtime, Anita.”
The lights suddenly went off. There were screams from the audience as it sat in the sudden dark. The curtain pulled back on either side. I was suddenly on the edge of the spotlight. The light shone like a star in the dark. Jean-Claude and his wolves were bathed in a soft light. I had to agree that my pumpkin sweater didn’t exactly fit the motif.
Jean-Claude stood in one boneless movement. He swept his hat off and gave a low, sweeping bow. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight you will witness a great battle.” He began to move slowly down the steps. The spotlight moved with him. He kept the hat off, using it for emphasis in his hand. “The battle for the soul of this city.”
He stopped, and the light spread wider to include two blond vampires. The two women were dressed as 1920s flappers, one in blue, the other in red. The women flashed fangs, and there were gasps from the audience. “Tonight you will see vampires, werewolves, gods, devils.” He filled each word with something. When he said “vampires,” there was a ruffling at your neck. “Werewolves” slashed from the dark, and there were screams. “Gods” breathed along the skin. “Devils” were a hot wind that scalded your face.
Gasps and stifled screams filled the dark.
“Some of what you see tonight will be real, some illusion; which is which will be for you to decide.” “Illusion” echoed in the mind like a vision through glass, repeating over and over. The last sound died away with a whisper that sounded like a different word altogether. “Real,” the voice whispered.
“The monsters of this city fight for control of it this Halloween. If we win, then all goes peaceful as before. If our enemies win . . .” A second spotlight picked out the top of a second dais. There was no throne. Oliver stood at