Carnival -- Chapter 5 is up!

Second chapter. I'll be posting more of Ghosts tonight, around midnight probably, and Gray will have another chapter by the end of the week.

Anyway, read on. There's dirty SMUT! w00t! Also, I'd like to ask any and all of who you read this to answer me a little questions; what, in your opinion, would be the best freak at a freak show? What would their 'freak'iness be? Just trying to come up with some interesting character ideas, and I need some new thoughts! If you've got a suggestion for a freak in the future, let me know, I plan on this story being AT LEAST thirty chapters long (I've mapped out nineteen chapter already...). I love trying to work in readers' ideas, and getting good advice and feedback from the people who care about the story. So!

So... read, love or hate it, either way, reviews are loved... all night long.

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“He and I, we’re alike.” Weston said softly, his hands knotted behind his back as he paced the tiny walkway of the trailer. Zachary sat at the desk, and Erik stood by the door. “The things he can do… I thought they were parlor tricks, at first. Like all the others who say they can do these things.” Weston shook his head, his dark hair falling across his pale, high forehead. “But he’s real, isn’t he?”

“Are you?” Zachary asked, his voice flat. “You say you can do what he does.”

“Yes.” Weston said slowly, frowning. “But I think he’s a little different than me. I can’t… I can’t control it.”

“Huxley had help. “Erik put him, and Zachary shot him a dirty look for speaking at all.

“He did?” Weston glanced at Erik. “From who?” he asked, but Erik just shook his head and kept his mouth shut. Weston sighed. “I can’t do it like he does. Not on command like that, not without it hurting.” He rubbed the space between his eyebrows absently. “Does he have dreams?” he asked Zachary.

“Everyone has dreams.”

Weston shook his head. “Not like mine. Does he dream of what’s to come, what’s already been? Does he dream?”

Zachary looked away from the desperate, hopeful look in the kid’s eyes. He’d come into the trailer wanting to beat the kid into a bloody mess, and suddenly he was feeling sorry for him. “What else can you do? How else are you like Huxley? Can you move things? Can you read people’s thoughts?”

Weston nodded. “I can do everything that he can. It hurts me, though.” He said this as though it needed to be remembered at all costs, and Zachary supposed to the boy it was the most important part. That it hurt.

“Tell us about yourself.” Erik said, and Weston turned to him. “We need to understand. How are you like this?”

Weston shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve always been like this.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve never met my parents. I don’t know what I am.”

“Prove it.” Zachary said suddenly, and they both turned to stare at him. “Prove you can do it.”

“No.” Weston said immediately. “No, I told you. It hurts.”

“I don’t care.” Zachary stood up, looming over the boy. The snakes writhed and hissed in his skin, and Zachary liked the look on the kid’s face, the way his skin broke out into goose bumps and he started to sweat. “If you can do it, you have to prove it. Show us.”

“Zachary.” Erik snapped.

“No.” Zachary retorted, and kept his eyes on Weston. “Do it.”

Weston shook his head slowly. “I told you-“

Zachary shoved him out of his way and stormed towards the door. “Erik, get rid of him. If I see him again…” the snakes all began to hiss, some of them rattled, and as Zachary turned to glare at the boy one last time, his eyes shifted and changed, slitting and flashing from their normal pale yellow to almost gold. The boy cringed away from him, near tears.

“I can’t.” he repeated, holding his hands out in front of him, terrified of Zachary, terrified of what he was, what was inside of him. “I can’t.”

“Get rid of him.” Zachary said again, and kicked the door open. “He’s nothing. He’s a liar.”

The door slammed shut, and if Zachary’s reflexes hadn’t been quick, it would’ve broken his nose. He turned, his lips pulled back from his teeth, and saw Weston’s eyes go black. It swarmed over his eyes like spreading ink, covering the white, the pupil, the brown of his iris. Things around the boy began to float, books and papers and Erik’s coffee cup. The chair and the desk began to shudder, and Zachary could hear the glass in the windows shaking.

“What the fuck…” Zachary heard Erik whisper beside him. For a moment, it seemed like everything but the two of them was floating; the boy’s toes dragged against the floor, his heels a few inches in the air. Then the boy’s face contorted and he moaned, his eyes closing. His back arched and his limbs stiffened, and he looked as though he was in very great pain. Gravity reasserted itself, and the boy and everything else in the trailer plummeted back to the ground. The boy’s knees gave out, and he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Erik moved forward, his shoes crunching on broken glass and ceramic, but Zachary stayed where he was, his mouth hanging open. He watched Erik pick up the kid, now unconscious, and dump him on the bed in the back of the trailer.

“What the hell did he do?” Erik asked Zachary. “I’ve never seen Huxley do that. Did you see his eyes?”

Zachary nodded slowly. “I have to go check on Huxley.” He said absently, and left eh trailer, ignoring Erik’s words when he called after him. He walked slowly, his head down, and realized that the tight, painful feeling his chest was guilt. He’d pushed the kid to do what he’d done, and now the kid was hurt. He felt bad.

Huxley was still sleeping, but peacefully now. Zachary sat on the bed beside his brother for a while, let the snakes come and go as they pleased. They curled out of him, sliding on the bed sheets and twining through the blanket, hissing and snapping each other, but not actually doing each other damage. They were all a part of Zachary, and thus all a part of each other, and they knew it. The coral snake slid up his arm, flickering it tongue against his neck, and he closed his eyes.

Seventy two. That number Huxley had spoken. Seventy two what? One word in all of Huxley’s ranting had stuck out at him for some reason, and now it circled through his mind. Legions. He’d heard that before, somewhere, and it had been something important, something terrible. Where? He couldn’t remember, and there was only one person who could tell him. But he didn’t want to do that, didn’t want to see him. Still, he saw no other option. He looked out the window at the sun and scowled. It would be a long time before it set. He had to think of something to do to pass the time.

He helped the workers break down the equipment and get it stored, and when it was time, he helped Moira get into her traveling tank. She could walk, but it was painful, so he carried her. She asked him if he was doing okay, and if Huxley was doing any better, and he lied and said they were both fine. She saw the lie but didn’t pursue it; she knew better. Once in her travel tank, she sank to the bottom, the gills above her collarbones pulsing slowly. Zachary made sure she had everything she needed, then proceeded to drain the tank and help unbolt the sides for storage.

It turned out that they would not be leaving until the next morning, and Zachary was glad for that. Tracking down the person he needed to speak to while they were traveling could be tricky. He ate dinner with the twins, who were too excited about Tia’s new dress design for them to pay attention to his silence. Then he sat beside the red painted trailer, the one with no windows, and watched the sun set.

As soon as the last rays faded, as soon as the sky held no trace of sunlight, Zachary stepped up the stairs and knocked twice. There was silence on the other side, so he waited and tried again a few moments later.

“Come in.” the voice was low and hoarse and beautiful, and it made his skin crawl. He opened the door and stepped inside.

The trailer was sparsely furnished, a trunk in the corner, a low brass bed in the back, and a tall, narrow box in the center of the room. Aside from the lamps hanging from the ceiling, four in a row, there was nothing else but the inhabitant.

He was tall and thin and beautiful, with long gold hair and emerald colored eyes. He wore a loose fitting pair of black silk pants and a short sleeved white tunic. When he saw Zachary, he arched one eyebrow and smiled, flashing pearly white teeth.

“Zachary.” He greeted, sounding pleased. “What a delightful surprise. What can I do for you?”

“Hello, Alecsi.” Zachary greeted grudgingly. “We need to talk. I have questions.”

“Of course you do.” The vampire said gently. “Why else would you visit me? Strictly business, yes?” he nodded, and Zachary glared at him. “What can I do for you?” he sat on the edge of the box, folding his legs at the ankles. “You know what the price of my help is, Zachary.”

Zachary nodded. “After.” Alecsi raised an eyebrow. “Please. It’s my brother.”

The vampire sighed and waved one hand in a dismissive way. “Very well. Explain to me what you want.”

“I need to know what Huxley was talking about last night.” He said, and tried to explain what had happened. He watched the look on Alecsi’s face shift from amused and interested to something that looked suspiciously like fear, and Zachary didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all.

“Seventy two.” Alecsi whispered softly when Zachary finished. “And the boy, this… Weston. His eyes, they turned black?” Zachary nodded. Alecsi stood and began to pace, making Zachary frown. Every move Alecsi ever made was deliberate, thought out, carefully planned. Pacing was a nervous gesture. “This is very bad, Zachary.” Alecsi told him finally. “Are you sure this is what you saw? Are you sure this is what happened?” Zachary nodded again.

“What’s going on?” Zachary asked him, and Alecsi turned and walked towards the trunk in the corner. “What is all of this?”

Alecis dropped to his knees and opened the lid of the trunk. The smell that wafted out of it was old paper and dried blood and something rotting, and it made Zachary gag. Alecsi rummaged through the stuff in the box, and Zachary saw a few things over his shoulder; an old leather bound book, its pages swollen and wrinkled from water damage, a velet ring box, so old most of the velvet had rubbed off, a porcelain doll, gold haired and green eyed, half of its face smashed and missing, a wine decanter stoppered with wax and full of dark brownish red liquid. Alecsi found what he’d been looking for and stood up. He was holding another book, this one obviously old but perfectly cared for. It’s binding was dark green, the words stamped on the front in faded gold. Zachary recognized the symbol on the front; a crescent moon and a broken sword. Alecsi’s family.

“Seventy two spirits.” Alecsi told him. “Seventy two that were brought from the other realm and imprisoned here. They command armies, Zachary. They’re monsters, demons.”

“Huxley said they were coming.”

Alecsi nodded. “My father wrote of this.” He said softly, and opened the book. “Just before he lost his mind and could no longer both with such things. He wrote of an old legend he heard, of a man who could carve through mountains. The man brought the spirits here to build a holy temple.”

“You’re talking about King Solomon.” Zacahry said.

Alecsi smiled. “That was one of his names, yes. But what people say of him now in no way encompasses what he truly was. He is the father of Huxley’s kind, Zachary. He was the first, and the greatest.”

“The seventy two spirits, they’re demons?” Alecsi nodded. “Well… fuck.”

“How eloquent.” Alecsi remarked dryly. “If what Huxley spoke of is going to come to pass, everything will change. Not just for you, or for him, but for the world.”

Zachary shook his head. “You mean to tell me that my brother got a glimpse of the end of the world through some inbred little cow herder?” Alecsi gave him a cold look, and Zachary sighed. “I find this all a little hard to believe.”

“You don’t have to believe, Zachary.” Alecsi told him. “But you know Huxley. He will believe it.”

“I need to go.” Zachary mumbled, and turned for the door. Alecsi was leaning against it. “Alecsi, please.”

“My payment, Zachary.” The vampire whispered, and his eyes flickered from green to red. “You agreed.” He ran one had along the line of Zachary’s throat. “You said after I told you. It is after.”

Zachary sighed. “Alecsi, my brother-“

“-can wait.” Alecsi smiled. “I cannot.” He long, insistent fingers pushed under Zachary’s shirt.

“There are others.” Zachary said, catching his wrist. “I’ll come back, but-“

“No.” Alcesi ran his tongue across his teeth. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had you. It has to be now.” He started pushing Zcahry back towards the bed, his hands pulling the shirt up over his head, and Zachary gave in with a sigh. The back of his knees hit the mattress and he sat down. Alecsi climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. “I’ll be quick.” Alecsi assured him, and dropped the shirt on the floor before removing his own.

“You’re never quick.” Zachary muttered, a moment before Alecsi’s mouth was against his own. Their tongues touched, and Zachary closed his eyes. He felt the vampire’s teeth against his tongue and braced himself. The bite was quick, almost painless, and the taste of his own blood in his mouth made him groan. He hated to admit that he liked this, and he always put up a fight. Alecsi sucked at his tongue, making low, growling whimpers in his throat, his nails dragging down Zachary’s chest to his belt buckle. The snakes squirmed away from Alecsi’s touch; they didn’t like him. Zachary leaned back on his elbows, giving Alecsi room to unbuckle his pants and slip his hand inside.

Alecsi broke the kiss as he wrapped his hand around Zachary’s cock. His lips were smeared with Zachary’s blood. Zachary closed his eyes, pushing his hips up against Alecsi’s hand. Alecsi stroked him slowly, smiling, his teeth red stained, and Zachary reached up and grabbed him by the shoulders. He pulled him down, rolling them over until Alecsi was beneath him, and nuzzled the side of the vampire’s throat as he worked to get his pants off and rid Alecsi of his own. He grazed Alecsi’s skin with his teeth, feeling the building pressure behind his gums, feeling the skin split as his rear fangs extended.

“Can I?” he whispered, and Alecsi shuddered, and amazing reaction out of the vampire. Zachary ran his tongue along Alecsi’s skin. “Alecsi, can I?”

“Yes.” Alecsi whispered, and lifted his hips, grinding their erections together. Zachary pushed Alecsi’s knees apart with his own, and the vampire shifted his hips, his hands sliding along Zachary’s shoulders, chasing the snakes away. For a moment Zachary didn’t move, his mouth pressed against Alecsi’s throat, but the vampire hissed and pushed his hips against him. “Now, Zachary.” He snapped.

Zachary pushed into him, no pretense, no gentleness, no hesitation, and the vampire threw his head back and screamed. Zachary opened his mouth wide, feeling his jaw creak, and buried his teeth in the vampire’s neck. He felt the pressure in his teeth release, tasted the hot, acidic burning of his own venom, and thrust hard into the man beneath. Alecsi dug his nails into Zachary’s back so deep he felt blood well there, and he set a brutal pace, working his teeth further into the vampire’s neck. Alecsi grabbed his arm, pulling his hand up, and buried his own fangs in the pulse at Zachary’s wrist. He sucked hard, and Zachary’s vision swam with large dark spots.

They moved together, slamming into one another so hard it was painful, Alecsi’s mouth sucking at the wounds he’d inflicted as Zachary chewed at his throat, his rear fangs digging into the soft, giving flesh he found. Alecsi finally tore his mouth away and screamed, and the sound was so loud that Zachary had a moment to wonder if everyone in the area could hear them. Then Alecsi came, hard, his muscles clenching around Zachary’s cock, and Zachary pulled away, blood and spit and venom dripping off his chin. He came inside of the vampire, thrusting hard once before collapsing on top of him.

They lay there, bleeding and sweating, for a long time. Finally, Zachary rolled away, working his aching jaw back and forth a little. He looked over at Alecsi, who hadn’t moved at all. The wound in his neck was huge, and slowly leaking thick, dark blood and a clear, thin fluid that Zachary knew was from him. He saw the spreading blue black infection as it crawled up towards Alecsi’s jaw and down towards his collar bone, and wondered if he’d managed to do some serious, permanent damage this time.

“Alecsi?” he asked softly, and the vampire turned his eyes towards him. They’d gone back to the brilliant shade of green they usually were. The infection touched his jaw for a moment, but then it slowly began to recede again, and Zachary was relieved.

Alecsi sat up, running his tongue against his blood slicked lips, and smiled. “As always, Zachary, a pleasure.” He said quietly, and stood, stretching. Zachary got up, dressed, and when Alecsi offered him a damp cloth, he wiped his face and then wrapped it around the wound in his wrist. “I’ll read through my father’s journal, make some notes for you. See me tomorrow.” The wound in his throat had already started close, and the infection was little more than a bruise now. His skin looked flushed, but other than that, he seemed as calm and cool as he’d been when Zachary had first entered the trailer.

Zachary nodded and left the trailer, shutting the door firmly behind him. He glanced around and saw no one. The snakes slithered in his skin, annoyed at him for what he’d done. He walked back to his trailer.

Inside, Huxley lay on the bed, his face turned towards the wall. Zachary sat down beside him, touching his forehead to check his fever. His skin was a decent temperature, so Zachary left him alone for now. He laid down on his own bed, cradling his aching wrist to his chest, and closed his eyes.

What Alecsi had told him would not leave his head, even though he couldn’t believe it. There was no way the world was coming to an end, that was just ridiculous. Still, what Alecsi had said was true; Huxley would believe it. Zachary had to take care of it. He had to protect Huxley, had to make sure that whatever it was Weston had to done to him would not cause him any permanent damage. He opened his eyes and looked at his brother’s sleeping form.

“I’ll make it right” he told him. “Whatever it was, I’ll fix it. You know I will.” He studied his brother for a long time, but eventually sleep claimed him. He dreamed of birds, millions of them, and they blocked out the sky. The carnival was engulfed in flames, and as he watched Moira boil to death in her own tank, and Huxley slit his own throat with a straight razor, the snakes in him slithered out around his feet and began to rot.

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A/N: For all of those who are wondering, vampires are NOT undead in my world. They're living creatures, just like anything else... I'll touch more on Alecsi's particular brand of vamprism later in another chapter.

Also, sorry for any misspellings or weirdness, I don't have anyone going over my work, and I'm lazy as hell. =)