Firetale Read Free Page A

of polished black steel instead of
wax. If someone stared at one for a while, it would appear to be
alive, its butyraceous glow pulsating, its surface similar to the
carapace of a huge insect. Greg took one of the candles and Mr.
Berry’s strand of hair. He carefully wrapped it around the wick,
which was much longer and thicker than the wick of a normal candle.
With a slight hiss, the hair grew into the wick, issuing a greenish
glow. Greg took the candle with Berry’s hair, put the rest of the
candles back in the bag, and left the trailer.
    The circus was on a vacant lot on
the outskirts of a town. Greg had to go around the encampment
perimeter, choosing the darkest spots, trying not to make any
noise. He soon disappeared into the night. When he had gone a good
distance from the circus and was walking down the poorly
illuminated streets of the town, he lit a candle. Its flame was
weak, more like a smoldering. Holding the candle at arm’s length,
Greg checked to his right and his left, in front of him and behind
him, all around. Candle flames flickered and twitched when Greg
chose the wrong side, but grew brighter when the magician headed in
the right direction. The candle burned most vividly when it was
pointed northeast, so Greg went in that direction. A night action
was not pleasant or fast, but it was the easiest way to track down
the killer, and Greg did not complain.
    The magician was so focused on
the candle flame that pointed the way to Mr. Berry that he did not
notice the short stooped figure following him in the shadows. Small
Zaches, bynamed Zinnober, could be very stealthy in the
dark.

Chapter 3: Death
    “ You’re the cutest girl I’ve
ever seen in my life
    Now, louder now and with my
knife .”
    Husker Du , “Diane”
    Mr. Berry was angry and
confused. That uncouth punk of a magician had brought too much
attention to him. Mr. Berry did not like to be in the spotlight,
and the magician’s shenanigans had infringed on his first
rule—keeping his head down. His safety depended on strictly abiding
by the rules, and he did his best not to step out of line. He would
have to stay in town for a couple of months more, another rule. He
had been at it for fourteen years, and his current town was his
twentieth. He had been Mr. Lock, Mr. White, Mr. Stamp, Mr. Glass,
Mr. Bone, and fourteen other misters. Moving frequently was
necessitated by his other main rule: one city, one killing. He
never killed immediately upon arrival and did not leave a city
immediately after the murder.
    He knew that people in small towns were
too concerned about strangers, so he needed to make himself
familiar. It could take a month or two, maybe half a year. The
people must become accustomed to him, stop talking about him as a
newcomer. And no matter how desirable it was to escape from a city
right after the kiss-off, he had to pull himself together and sit
tight. Otherwise, it would be too suspicious, and suspicion causes
excessive scrutiny. During the months of waiting, he could plan and
prepare. Only an idiot kills spontaneously, succumbing to
lust.
    This implie d two more rules: be patient and
prepare in advance.
    Sometimes Mr. Berry watched a
movie on TV. Now and then, movies about serial killers and maniacs came
up. Mr. Berry never drew a parallel between himself and the
villains of these films. Filmmakers had always been interested in
killers who challenged society. Movie maniacs were too sociable,
teasing detectives and tossing them puzzles pointing to the next
murder. They behaved like men who dreamed of recognition. Such
killers Berry did not understand. He tried not to leave any trace,
avoiding police, and he did not care about society.
    Mr. Berry was quite satisfied
that nobody ha d taken notice of him. He might have been just another
loser whose career and personal life had not worked. To avoid being
considered a weirdo, Mr. Berry sometimes told people about his
imaginary family, offering as proof a photograph of a woman