Carnival -- Chapter 5 is up!

This is something that me and a good friend of mine have been talking about for a long time. I wanted to write it for a while, and he and I have been on the phone mapping it out today. I thought I’d post the first chapter!

To all of those who read my other stuff, not to worry. The next chapter of Ghosts is almost ready, I just needed a break from all that Lucas drama. *cackles* Anyway, this is pretty weird, so keep an open mind about it, yea?

Read it, love it or hate it, either way, reviews are loved… all night long! *grins*
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Erik locked the door of his trailer and stepped down the three stairs to the dirt, his mind full of things to do that day. It wasn’t even sunrise yet, but a lot of the workers were already up and moving; they were heading out today, their three day stay over. He nodded at his head worker, Roger, who was breaking down the carousel.

“Tell that skank Tia to repaint these damn horses!” Roger yelled at him, and Erik waved his hand in acknowledgement. He turned at the games tent and headed for the dark green trailer, parked farther away from the main ground than any other. He stepped up the stairs and knocked on the gold trimmed door.

Zachary stuck his head out. His pale yellow eyes looked bloodshot. “Erik.” He greeted, and stepped out, shutting the door behind him. He was shirtless, and the tattoos and scars on his chest and back and arms looked very prominent against his pale skin. “What can I do for you?”

“Huxley awake?” Erik asked, pushing a hand through his dark brown hair. It flopped back into his eyes immediately. “Need to talk to him about what happened last night.”

Zachary sighed and shook his head. “hasn’t moved since it happened.” He said. “Mumbles some, but…” he trailed off, frowning. Zachary was very protective of Huxley. “Did the boy come back?”

“No, not yet.” Erik said, his tone suggesting that Zachary shouldn’t have expected it; it was so early still. “I imagine he will, before we get rolling.” He bit his lip, not wanting to ask, but having to all the same. “Zachary, what did he do to Huxley?”

“Don’t know.” Zachary fumbled through his pockets and found a pack of cigarettes, a little flattened but okay. He offered one to Erik, who decline. He lit his with a battered silver Zippo lighter. “That’s never happened before. Everything was going fine, and then that kid...” he shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”

“His fever come down?” Erik asked, and Zachary nodded. “That’s something, I guess.”

“Will he come with us?” Zachary raised one pale blond eyebrow. “Do you think the boy will follow us?”

“Who knows? He didn’t want to leave last night, said he’d never met another person like him.”

“Nobody’s like Huxley.” Zachary insisted, and Erik watched the tattoos on his skin move. They slid, just under the surface, their scales glistening in the predawn light. “That boy… he’s something else.”

“We’ll have to see.” Erik said vaguely. He spotted Rose and Lily headed towards them and patted Erik on the shoulder. “Your fan club.” He said, and left. Zachary looked over to the twins, who waved happily at him.

“Come and have breakfast with us!” Rose chimed, beaming at him. Lily nodded, her bright copper colored ringlets bouncing. “Oh, please say you will, Zachary.”

“Of course.” He smiled at them, and they giggled and hid their mouths behind their hands, their eyes on his teeth. They had an unnatural obsession with them; the serrated edges, the triple canines, the complete lack of molars. They thought it was amazing, and something when they were very good, he would let them slide their tiny, soft fingers against them, and it always made them laugh. “Let me get a shirt.”

“Can we say hi to Huxley?” Lily asked.

“Afraid not, sweet.” He said. “Still sleeping, that one.” They pouted, and he gave them each a kiss, making them giggle again. “I’ll meet you at the tent, okay?”

They nodded and walked away, and Zachary took a moment to study the place where one girl became another. The conjoined twins, who met at the shoulder and were connect down to the hip, weren’t much older than fifteen, but they’d been with the carnival before even Zachary and his brother showed up. They were darling girls, and pretty, with heart shaped faces and big blue eyes. They looked and dressed like dolls, ruffled collars and petticoats and white tights. He loved them, and he almost always did what they asked. So even though he wasn’t hungry, even though he was scared for his brother and didn’t want to leave him alone, he was going to because they asked.

He snagged a shirt from the trailer, glancing at his pale, sleeping brother. Huxley dark hair was sweat dampened and clung to his cheeks, and his eyes moved restlessly behind their lids. He sighed and left the trailer, hoping to God that he would wake up soon.

He headed for the tent under which they all ate, and as he walked, he thought about what had happened the night before.

He’d gone into Huxley’s tent in between his own shows; he loved watching Huxley in action. His handsome younger brother was psychically gifted; he could move things without touching them, light candles just by staring at them, and he could tell people their pasts, their presents, and their futures just by touching them. When Zachary had entered the tent, Huxley had been on stage with a middle aged woman, who was smiling through her tears, as Huxley held her hand and talked about her husband.

“He’ll get better.” Huxley assured her, his sweet, calm voice almost hypnotic. The tent was packed, like always. “It looks worse than it is. He’ll heal, I promise you that.”

“Are you sure?” the woman asked. “Are you absolutely sure?”

He smiled and patted her hand. “You two will enjoy yourselves in Chicago.” He assured her, and the woman burst out sobbing and tried to hug him. He gently deflected the movement and ushered her down the little wooden stairs. “Who would like to be next?” he asked the crowd, and everyone started to shout and wave their hands. Huxley laughed and closed his eyes, his arms spreading out as if he meant to embrace the whole crowd. “Carlisle.” He said, after a moment of silence. “A young man.” He eyes remained closed. “His first name…” he frowned. “It starts with a W?”

A young man stepped forward, looking apprehensive. He was attractive, in a slightly underfed sort of way, dark haired and dark eyed. He stepped up the stairs, and Huxley opened his eyes, smiling. He extended one hand, and the young man took it.

“Weston.” Huxley said, and the boy nodded. “It’s good to meet you. You look uncomfortable.” The boy nodded again. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.” Huxley assured him gently, and the boy relaxed a little. Huxley wrapped both his hands around the boy’s and closed his eyes again.

“You’re nineteen.” Huxley told him. “You grew up on a farm. Your first kiss… a girl named Victoria.” He smiled a little, and the boy stared at him. “You have a horse. A chestnut mare you never named. You ride her everyday, to the river and back. You’re afraid of snakes.”

Zachary laughed at his, and the cottonmouth around his neck hissed. He stroked the top of its head with one finger. On stage, Huxley continued.

“I need you to concentrate for me, Weston.” Huxley said. “Can you do that?” Weston nodded, and even though Huxley’s eyes were closed, he nodded as well. “Yes, of course you can. Concentrate on your deepest desire. Visualize what you want most in life.”

Zachary watched the boy close his eyes, and that was when everything went wrong. Huxley jerked, as though he’d been electrocuted, and let out a low, horrible moaning sound. His eyes snapped open, but the pale china blue color was gone, even his pupil had disappeared. His eyes were flat, dead white, and as Zachary watched, Huxley opened his mouth and began to scream.

The boy pulled away, looking terrified, and without thought, Zachary lunged onto the stage. “Huxley!” he shouted, and grabbed his brother by the arms. Huxley turned his head towards Zachary, his scream dying and turning into sobs, but his eyes stayed white, stayed dead.

“Seventy two.” He whispered, and Zachary felt Huxley pushing at him, felt the insistent fingers of his brother’s mind inside his own head. “Seventy two, and they bring legions, armies and death and lies, and so, so much power.” Huxley shuddered, his back arching. “Copper and words and ocean depths no longer hold them, and it’s time, it’s time, they’re coming.” He laughed, a high, screaming laugh full of madness, and behind Zachary, the boy sank to his knees and began to cry. Huxley bit down, hard, on his own tongue, and blood poured down his chin. “Oh, they’re beautiful.” He moaned. His body jerked again and his eyes closed, and a moment later he was dead weight in Zachary’s arms.

Zachary hefted his brother up, turning and storming off the stage. He was screaming for Erik, and out of the corner of his eye he saw two of the workers grab the kid and start shoving him along behind Zachary.

Erik met him most of the way to his trailer, and when he saw Huxley, he started panicking. “What the hell happened?” he barked. “Who the hell is he?”

“He did something to Huxley.” Zachary told him. “I need to put him down, but I want to talk to him.”

“I didn’t… I’m sorry.” The kid said, and Zachary had the urge to turn and kick the kid in the chest. “I didn’t mean to!”

“What have you done?” Erik yelled at him, and Zachary got the trailer door open and went inside. He put Huxley down on the bed, and the cottonmouth around his neck slid down his arm and flickered it’s tongue at Huxley’s face. Zachary glared at the snake, and for a moment it looked up at him. He felt a line of pain shoot down his arm, and the snake became just another inked design under his skin. He turned and stormed back out of the trailer, just as Erik was barreling down on the kid.

“Stop.” Zachary ordered, and Erik stopped. Zachary looked at the kid, who was kneeling between the two workers, his head in his hands. He was sobbing. “What did you do to him?” Zachary asked the boy.

“I didn’t mean to!” he shouted, bawling. “I thought it would be okay, I thought it wasn’t real. If I’d known he was for real, I never would’ve touched him. I’m so sorry.”

“What did you do?” Zachary asked again, crouching in front of the kid. He could feel his skin crawling, could feel the urge to lunge and bite this kid in the throat, to make him hurt, but he kept it down. “What are you?”

“I didn’t know.” The kid muttered. “I thought I was the only one like that.” He finally lifted his head, and Zachary saw the pain and terror in his eyes, and under that, something like excitement. “He’s real, isn’t he? He’s like me.” He tapped his forehead with one finger. He was still crying, but the sobbing had stopped, and Zachary was grateful. “I thought it was tricks.”

“Everything’s real here, boy.” Zachary told him, and allowed the black mamba in his skin to slide out. It wavered near the boy’s face, hissing, and the boy tried to back pedal away from it. Zachary took the snake back after a moment. “What are you?” he asked again.

“I can do what he can do.” He boy said. “I’m like him.”

“No, you aren’t.” Zachary stood up. “No one is.”

“I need to talk to him.” The boy got to his feet. “Please, I have to speak with him. I thought I was the only one.”

“Get him out of here.” Zachary told the workers.

“No, no please!” the boy began to cry again, but the workers started shoving and prodding him backwards. “I can’t leave! I need to talk to him!”

Zachary ignored him. He glared at Erik. “I’m canceling my last shows.” He said, and Erik nodded. Zachary turned and went back into the trailer. He sat with Huxley all night, not sleeping, and listened to him babble about drawing the circle and the gifts of spirits, of the seventy two, and the marks to look for. Zachary understood none of it, and as the night wore on, it made less and less sense. For a solid hour his brother screamed in a language Zachary had never heard before. It was so loud Zachary felt like he would go crazy. Eventually, Huxley had quieted, and Zachary had managed to get an hour or so of sleep, sitting in a chair beside the bed.

As he entered the tent and sat beside the twins, on Lily’s side because he’d sat on Rose’s side for lunch yesterday, he noticed that a lot of the others were already awake. Colin, the shape shifter, was sitting beside Alina. As he watched them, Alina reached through Colin’s chest, her arm sliding through him and wrapping around a pitcher on the table, and Colin laughed at the feeling of it. Zachary looked away, and tried to listen to what Lily was saying.

“…said we were amazing last night.” She giggled and spread honey on a piece of bread. “And Moira made Erik promise that at the next stop, her tent would be by ours, so she could see her show from her tank.”

“That’s sweet of him.” Zachary said vaguely. “Is Moira awake?”

“No.” Rose told him. “She said she wanted to get extra sleep before they had to drain her tank for storage. She hates sleeping in the little tank.”

“We can’t keep the big one full while moving, though.” Lily said.

“Of course not.” Zachary agreed. “It’s too heavy.”

“She says she can’t sleep curled up on her own tail.” Rose smiled. “She’s making us necklaces.”

“Out of what?”

“Her scales.” Lily said, beaming. “She shed a bunch in the last town, and she’s making us pretty collar necklaces. Tia said she’d match the colors and make us new dresses, too.”

“Well, aren’t you two spoiled?” He asked, and they giggled. “Maybe at the next big city, I can get you ribbons for your hair, to match.” They squealed in delight at this idea, and it made him smile. “I have to go, sweets.” He stood and kissed both of them. “I need to speak with Moira.”

“She’s asleep.” Rose insisted. “She’ll get mad if you wake her.”

“I think she won’t mind.” He assured her. He left the tend and headed for Moira’s. It wasn’t far from the main area; she was one the carnival’s biggest attractions. He ducked under the gauzy blue and white tent flap and approached the tank.

It was almost eight feet high, and almost ten wide on both sides, full to the top with water. It was dark in the tent, but Zachary could make out Moira’ pale, long form near the back. He climbed the stairs to the stage at the back of the tank and sat down, ignoring the definite temperature drop of the air in the tent, and trailed his fingers across the ice cold surface of the water. Below, the white form stirred and unfolding, and a moment later Moira’s head broke the surface, barely causing a ripple.

“Good morning, Zachary.” She said softly, her voice full of bells and echoes. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” she braced her elbows on the edge of the tank and ran one long fingered, webbed hand through the snow white tangle of tentacle-like hair on her head.

Zachary studied her, amazed, like always, at her beauty. Her eyes were so blue they nearly glowed in the dimness of the tent, and her skin was whiter than her hair, tinged blue. Her ears were elongated and pointed, and her mouth was lush and full of needlelike teeth. She had long, black tipped spikes along her spine and the backs of her legs, which ended in huge, narrow fins, delicate and frilled.

He cleared his throat and looked away from her; he could never find words when he looked at her. “Did you hear about Huxley?” he asked.

She sighed, and it sounded like wind through trees in winter. “Yes.” He felt one of her talon tipped fingers slide along his knee, and shuddered at the feel of it. It was painfully cold and yet somehow erotic. “I’m very sorry. How is he doing?”

“He’s still asleep.” Zachary told her. “I’m scared.”

“Of course you are.” He heard the water slosh a little, and suddenly she was sitting beside him, her fins trailing in the water. “Come here, my pet.” She held out her warms to him.

He leaned into her, his skin going numb almost immediately at the contact, and closed his eyes as she wrapped her arms around him. Her nails slid across his neck, and he felt the snakes react to her, pushing against his skin and writhing. Half of them wanted out, the other half wanted farther in, away from the cold. He buried his face against her chest, feeling the slippery wetness of her skin against his cheek, and let her console him.

They stayed that way until it was hard for Zachary to breathe, his lips blue and his chest constricted. When he finally gasped and had to pull away, she slipped back into the water. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers for a moment, then stood up.

“Zachary?” Erik asked from behind the tent flap. “Are you in there?” Zachary looked at the tent flap, scowling, and wondered how long Erik had been standing there.

“I’m here.” He said, and started down the stairs.

“The boy is here.” Erik said, and Zachary shot Moira one last look.

She smiled at him, and blew him a kiss. He smiled back and ducked out into the sunlight. He squinted. He’d been with Moira longer than he’d thought. The sun felt good on his skin, and he felt the snakes that had pushed into him swarm towards the surface, towards the warmth. He wanted nothing more than to find a nice empty place to lay down in and bask in the light. Unfortunately, he had other things to tend to.

“Where is he?” Zachary asked Erik.

“In my trailer.” They started walking. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to talk to him, Erik. What do you think I’m going to do?” he ignored the look Erik shot him. “I just want to know what happened.”

“What if the kid can’t answer that?” Erik asked.

Zachary smirked. “He’d better be a really good liar then.” The snakes slipped out of him, pushing against the fabric of his shirt, writhing down his arms, and circling his neck. “He’s not leaving until I get an answer out of him.”
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A/N. Mostly just some set up, and a little lead in to what’s going to be happening later. It feels rushed, but I’m more concerned about getting to all the good stuff right now. So maybe I’ll rewrite the beginning, maybe I won’t. Who knows? =)

To any of you who have read my other work, did you catch the whole thing about Moira? Does she remind you of someone? She should.