like trailers in a Florida hurricane. Carnival felt the aura of the building pull and push itself out of shape. The succubus was a pathway between this world and another and when she’d imploded the real world rushed in a little bit to fill the vacuum. He didn’t know what effect this might have on the future. It didn’t bother him. He was a live-in-the-moment-and-don’t-worry-about-the-cholesterol kind of guy.
It was the gypsy way.
And what would you know about being a gypsy, halfblood?
Carnival smiled. His skin hurt like it had been stretched beyond recovery. His teeth ached and his legs felt like he’d tried to moonwalk down a sledgehammer gauntlet.
“That’s for you, Benny.”
That wasn’t true. He’d done it for more than just Benny. He’d done it for all the homeless men she’d sucked in and eaten before he’d tracked her down to this church. Benny was just the catalyst. The domino that started the whole universe tumbling.
Ha! You did it for a pair of lonely beggar’s eyes. You felt sorry for them.
“The homeless can be useful, Poppa. They see things that more comfortable folk would rather ignore.
And a Rom loves his secrets. Liar. You did it for sympathy. You are weaker than a woman. Some hero. You didn’t fix anything. Benny the bum is still down there. Down in her mouth. Ha!
“She’s gone, Poppa.”
Ha! Nobody ever goes. She’s just moved somewhere else.
“Shut up, Poppa.”
Carnival tried to imagine Benny. Somebody he’d never known. He’d never even heard of him until last week when three houseless men knocked on Carnival’s shop window and hired him to make vengeance. They’d paid Carnival well. Nearly thirty eight dollars in scavenged pop bottles, bagged in bright blue plastic recycling bags. He never would have done it for free. He had some scruples. Hey, Gypsies have to eat too.
Maybe she was hungry too? You ever think about that?
Carnival paused. He let his breath out in a long and tired sigh.
“Great,” he said. “Guilt the pissed-on lily, why don’t you Poppa?”
Carnival walked away, not looking back, trying hard to forget that feeling of someone wriggling beneath his skin. It ought to have been over but it wasn’t. It had only just begun.
Several heartbeats after the door closed behind Carnival, as he walked away from the shaken church, a tall lurching twist of a figure slanted like the shard of a sunbeam from out of the heart of a shadow. It looked around the ransacked church, a prospective tenant sizing up a brand new sublet.
“Yes,” The Red Shambler said. “This will do, nicely.”
And in the darkened heart of the darkest shadow something else watched the Red Shambler.
Something else that couldn’t be seen.
Something that was already making its plans.
Poppa’s laughter echoed through the empty church.
Chapter 2
An Evening Caller
D oris shivered as the night wind whispered down the back of her collar.
Should she do this? Could she? Her mother would have called this a sin. Her mother called a lot of things sins.
She looked at the sign in the shop window.
GYPSY FORTUNE TELLING - BY WALK-IN OR APPOINTMENT ONLY. ASK ABOUT OUR RAINY DAY SPECIAL.
If you couldn’t believe in a sign, what could you trust? There was a sign on the lamppost beside her as well.
JESUS CHRIST SAVES ALL SINNERS. PRAY TO JESUS NOW. OBEY THE BIBLE.
Direct as a drill sergeant. They didn’t call it the Salvation Army for nothing. A basket of biblical tracts sprouted beneath the sign. She picked one of the tracts up.
DEATH, JUDGEMENT, ETERNITY, HEAVEN OR HELL, YOU DECIDE.
So many messages. Who should she believe?
Trust Carnival, her best friend Margaret had told her. Carnival knew things.
Doris squared her shoulders, stepped up to the door, and pushed it open.
A little brass bell heralded her entrance.
“Enter freely and of your own will.”
She looked at the man who had spoken. He flashed a quick grin to show her he meant no harm.
“Come in. Sit
It was the gypsy way.
And what would you know about being a gypsy, halfblood?
Carnival smiled. His skin hurt like it had been stretched beyond recovery. His teeth ached and his legs felt like he’d tried to moonwalk down a sledgehammer gauntlet.
“That’s for you, Benny.”
That wasn’t true. He’d done it for more than just Benny. He’d done it for all the homeless men she’d sucked in and eaten before he’d tracked her down to this church. Benny was just the catalyst. The domino that started the whole universe tumbling.
Ha! You did it for a pair of lonely beggar’s eyes. You felt sorry for them.
“The homeless can be useful, Poppa. They see things that more comfortable folk would rather ignore.
And a Rom loves his secrets. Liar. You did it for sympathy. You are weaker than a woman. Some hero. You didn’t fix anything. Benny the bum is still down there. Down in her mouth. Ha!
“She’s gone, Poppa.”
Ha! Nobody ever goes. She’s just moved somewhere else.
“Shut up, Poppa.”
Carnival tried to imagine Benny. Somebody he’d never known. He’d never even heard of him until last week when three houseless men knocked on Carnival’s shop window and hired him to make vengeance. They’d paid Carnival well. Nearly thirty eight dollars in scavenged pop bottles, bagged in bright blue plastic recycling bags. He never would have done it for free. He had some scruples. Hey, Gypsies have to eat too.
Maybe she was hungry too? You ever think about that?
Carnival paused. He let his breath out in a long and tired sigh.
“Great,” he said. “Guilt the pissed-on lily, why don’t you Poppa?”
Carnival walked away, not looking back, trying hard to forget that feeling of someone wriggling beneath his skin. It ought to have been over but it wasn’t. It had only just begun.
Several heartbeats after the door closed behind Carnival, as he walked away from the shaken church, a tall lurching twist of a figure slanted like the shard of a sunbeam from out of the heart of a shadow. It looked around the ransacked church, a prospective tenant sizing up a brand new sublet.
“Yes,” The Red Shambler said. “This will do, nicely.”
And in the darkened heart of the darkest shadow something else watched the Red Shambler.
Something else that couldn’t be seen.
Something that was already making its plans.
Poppa’s laughter echoed through the empty church.
Chapter 2
An Evening Caller
D oris shivered as the night wind whispered down the back of her collar.
Should she do this? Could she? Her mother would have called this a sin. Her mother called a lot of things sins.
She looked at the sign in the shop window.
GYPSY FORTUNE TELLING - BY WALK-IN OR APPOINTMENT ONLY. ASK ABOUT OUR RAINY DAY SPECIAL.
If you couldn’t believe in a sign, what could you trust? There was a sign on the lamppost beside her as well.
JESUS CHRIST SAVES ALL SINNERS. PRAY TO JESUS NOW. OBEY THE BIBLE.
Direct as a drill sergeant. They didn’t call it the Salvation Army for nothing. A basket of biblical tracts sprouted beneath the sign. She picked one of the tracts up.
DEATH, JUDGEMENT, ETERNITY, HEAVEN OR HELL, YOU DECIDE.
So many messages. Who should she believe?
Trust Carnival, her best friend Margaret had told her. Carnival knew things.
Doris squared her shoulders, stepped up to the door, and pushed it open.
A little brass bell heralded her entrance.
“Enter freely and of your own will.”
She looked at the man who had spoken. He flashed a quick grin to show her he meant no harm.
“Come in. Sit
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