Carnies Read online

  David closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think straight. These people seemed genuine and sincere, and yet they’d given him little or no concrete information whatsoever. But they’d stirred something up in him, that was for sure. Something about those people at the carnival had struck him as being... it was hard to find the right word. Pagan? Heretical? Blasphemous? Or perhaps hedonistic? At any rate, their attitudes clashed with David’s, grated like the sound of someone chewing ice. And now Paul had apparently fallen in with them.

  Suddenly he knew exactly what he had to do. He opened his eyes and stood up. ‘Thank you, Mr Parkes,’ he said sincerely. ‘Thank you all. I should go now.’

  ‘Yes,’ Parkes said, not getting up. ‘Yes, you should. Miles to go before you sleep, and all that.’

  David walked to the door and opened it, but paused in the doorway, looking back. ‘How can I get in contact with you?’ he asked.

  The old man shook his head. ‘We’ll contact you, Mr Hampden. Our eyes are everywhere in this town.’

  Not everywhere, David thought, a little bitter. Not in the carnival, where you need them to be. But he nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  He headed for the pub’s exit, not even glancing at the woman behind the bar or the other patrons. He felt focused and calm, confident of his path for the first time in days. Maybe years, in fact. As he crossed the wooden floor, he took his mobile phone from his pocket and flicked through the list of phone numbers in it. He’d never cleaned it out, and still had the details of all his old contacts from his glory days in crime reporting. There was one in particular he was looking for, though, someone he’d only spoken to a few times, but who owed him a favour. He’d never dared call it in, as the person frightened him, frankly. But, as the old man, Parkes, had said, desperate measures.

  He pressed the ‘Dial’ button and held the phone to his ear as he pushed the pub door open and stepped out into the chill night air. He stood there, as the telephone at the other end rang a few times, then was answered by a young woman.

  ‘Hello, I’d like to speak to Mr Voight, please,’ he said pleasantly, a smile slowly forming on his lips. ‘My name is Hampden.’

  ‘Certainly, sir. May I ask what your call is regarding?’ the young lady on the other end asked, her tone suggesting she used these exact words a dozen times a day.

  David’s smile grew wider. ‘Tell him I need help cleaning up a mess.’

  -21-

  The carnival was already open by the time Paul arrived there with Amos and Rachel, the night’s festivities and amusements long underway. It had been a long walk through the woods, and Paul’s early attempts at conversation with the two carnies had been abject failures, so they’d spent most of the journey wrapped in an uncomfortable silence. He’d desperately wanted to talk to them, ask them questions, ask them about what had happened to him, what he’d become. Well, to be more accurate, he’d wanted to ask Rachel. But he didn’t dare.

  He discovered something on that trek through the trees, something that didn’t need words or even explanation. Something that he should have known already, but had been too self-involved to see. Or perhaps he had been unwilling to see it. But his senses were clear now, even if his eyesight was a little blurrier than it used to be, and his instincts told him the plain, brutal truth.

  Rachel and Amos were together. An item. A couple. A mating pair.

  It was obvious in their manner towards each other, the way that Amos always led the way, Rachel following. It almost screamed out loud, in the shorthand way they spoke to one another. Everything about them, their body language, their voices, even their smells were mingled. And yet Paul sensed a distance there too, a reluctance on Rachel’s part, though Amos showed no such disinclination himself. It felt... uneven.

  That may have just been yet more wishful thinking, of course. And he was still upset with himself for not noticing the relationship earlier. Surely his senses hadn’t sharpened that much?

  But it was quite clear that they had. Walking through the forest that night he’d discovered an acute awareness of just how much was going on around him. He could hear each individual cricket, every one playing a different tune on its legs, together forming a discordant orchestra. There were birds above them, in the branches and fluttering in the spaces between the trees, night hunters in search of their prey. And on the ground, the small animals that fed them - mainly mice, both native and foreign, but also rabbits. Even a small group of kangaroos passed close by at one point, looking over at the three figures with their brown, incurious eyes before bounding away. Night was no barrier to perception any more, and once Paul had accepted that his overtures to chat were not going to be accepted, he’d simply revelled in the amazing array of sounds and smells that surrounded them.

  He was so distracted by this that the time spent travelling seemed almost non-existent, and he was surprised when the forest broke apart and became a small field. He’d been so focused on the sounds of the woods that he hadn’t even noticed the far louder noises coming from in front of them, until the trees vanished and he saw the carnival up ahead. He was both relieved and disappointed to see it. He’d enjoyed the walk, especially now that he no longer needed a cane, but on the other hand, it meant he might get some answers at last, if only he could think of the right questions to ask. And if anybody would give him the time of day, for that matter.

  As they entered the carnival he noticed that the other carnies were giving him dirty looks. Determined not to show his discomfort, he smiled and waved to each scowling face. Turn the other cheek, he thought, then almost laughed out loud. It was exactly the kind of thing David would say, or his father. Not that either of them would ever actually do that. Practise what you preach seemed a better proverb for them, really.

  ‘Paul,’ Rachel said, her voice soft but insistent, and he returned his attention to the couple in front of him - quite far in front of him now, in fact. He’d been so busy deflecting glares that he’d almost lost his guides. And judging by the attitudes of the other carnies, losing Rachel and Amos could have been a painful experience. His new senses revealed the true nature of the carnies to him now, their scents musky, bestial. He wondered if he smelled the same, and, if so, why they were still so unfriendly. With an embarrassed shrug, he jogged until he was just behind the couple again, then slowed down to a walk.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, feeling a little sheepish. ‘Just trying to be sociable.’

  ‘I don’t think this is the time for that, Paul,’ Rachel said. ‘This isn’t usually how it’s done.’

  ‘How what’s done?’

  ‘We’ll need to find you somewhere to stay tonight,’ she continued, ignoring his question. ‘Somewhere... suitable.’

  Paul snorted. ‘I never knew “suitable” meant “safe”.’

  She turned to him. ‘There are many things you never knew, Paul. But never mind, you’ll learn soon enough.’

  ‘Sink or swim?’

  ‘Adapt or die,’ Amos said, his first words since they’d left Alvan Roy’s bush homestead. He stopped and faced Paul. ‘This is a serious matter, Paul Hampden. Your presence is dangerous, and the decision to bring you here was a hard-fought one.’

  Paul smirked despite himself. ‘It sounds like you lost.’

  ‘That’s correct,’ Amos said without hesitation or shame, though the sideways glance he gave Rachel spoke volumes. Paul knew then who was responsible for his being there. He wondered what the alternative was, what might have been. For some reason the heads in jars came to mind when he thought that, and his smirk evaporated.

  ‘Come, Paul,’ Rachel said. ‘You’ll be staying here.’ She turned and gestured.

  They’d come to a long trailer, an old caravan that had seen far better days. It was the only one he’d seen here. All the other structures in the carnival were tents. He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

  ‘We use this to transport our heaviest materials,’ Rachel explained. ‘It’s horse drawn.’

 
Paul looked at the front of the caravan and saw the jury-rigged harness there, padded ropes and roughly beaten metal braces that looked suitable for four horses. Large horses, he assumed, Clydesdales or similar. He could imagine the caravan, laden down with metal beams, being dragged through the forest along trails nobody else knew existed. It’d be slow, laborious work to move it. He shook his head in wonder.

  ‘Why not use a truck or something?’

  Amos spat once into the dirt. ‘Noisy, stinking things,’ he grunted. ‘We’ll have nothing to do with them.’

  ‘At any rate,’ Rachel said, ‘this will be where you’ll spend tonight. Tomorrow we will introduce you to everyone, but not until Amos and I have spoken to them.’ She reached up and opened the door, which squeaked as it opened. ‘Ben will keep you safe, never fear.’

  ‘Ben?’ he asked, but she motioned for him to enter. He shrugged and climbed up the rusty metal steps, and then he was inside.

  It was dark in the caravan, so at first he couldn’t see anything. Then his ears filtered out the clamour of the carnival in progress outside, and he realised he wasn’t alone. There was deep, ragged breathing coming from the far end of the trailer, and he noticed a strong odour that seemed familiar, heavy and musky, not unpleasant, but strong, like a wet dog.

  Then a gas lamp was lit, and Paul gasped.

  The creature lumbered towards him, slouching to avoid the roof. Its hairy body was silhouetted against the flickering light of the lamp, so all Paul could see was a huge black shape approaching him, but he recognised it straight away. He’d seen it twice, both times two nights before - once in chains in the freak show tent and once when it was chasing him from the carnival. He hadn’t hoped to see it again.

  He took a step back, then another, and found himself against the wall, the faux-wood panelling bending and creaking a little under his weight. The creature continued to come towards him slowly, breathing hard. In a matter of seconds it was towering over him. It reached out a gnarled hand, hairy and clawed.

  ‘Hi, Paul,’ it said in a deep, rough voice. ‘I’m Ben.’ Paul just stood there, stunned. For a while he couldn’t understand what he’d just heard. It seemed impossible. The creature - Ben - still stood there, patient, affable, its hand - his hand - outstretched in welcome. After a few seconds Paul managed to shake off some of his confusion, and his manners took over. He reached out his hand and took Ben’s. The fingers closed around his, rough, matted fur rubbing against his skin, and they shook.

  ‘Uh...’ Paul said, but couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Ben said, letting Paul’s hand go. ‘I’m used to it. At least you didn’t run away screaming.’

  ‘No, I’ve already done that,’ Paul said, a nervous smile on his face. The creature’s voice was a little difficult to understand, speaking around its distended maw and sharp teeth, but no more so than some others he’d met. His heart was returning to something like a normal pace.

  ‘Gave you a scare, huh?’ Ben said, his face twisting. For a moment Paul thought it was a snarl, and his heart accelerated again, but then he realised it was a reasonable attempt at a smile, and relaxed again. A little.

  ‘Yeah, you did,’ he replied. Somehow the creature seemed less and less strange to him with every second that passed.

  ‘You look worn out,’ Ben said.

  He found himself yawning, despite himself. Even though he’d only been awake since late that afternoon, he was completely exhausted. Dog tired, he thought, suspecting how appropriate that phrase was for him now. He nodded, a little embarrassed.

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Ben rumbled, still smiling.

  ‘The first day is always rough for newbloods, or so I’ve heard. The changes are pretty traumatic on the body. I’m an oldblood myself, of course, so I never had to go through all that.’

  ‘Huh?’ Paul asked, but his voice was slurred, his eyes already drooping. He could feel a soft burning in his muscles. Too much, too soon. His knees shook.

  ‘Here,’ Ben said, taking Paul by the shoulders and laying him on an old single mattress at the side of the caravan. ‘Rachel brought this in for you earlier. You can sleep here.’

  ‘I don’t want to sleep,’ Paul said, drowsy, as Ben lowered him onto the uneven mattress, springs squeaking underneath him. He realised he sounded like a child. Perhaps he was again, in some ways. What did it... Ben... say? A newblood? Like a newborn?

  His eyes were closed before he was even horizontal. But he still clung to consciousness.

  ‘Ben?’ he mumbled.

  ‘Yeah?’ He heard the creature - no, not a creature, a person - settling down at the back of the caravan, the rustling of what smelled like freshly cut hay.

  ‘What am I?’ he asked, the question that had been plaguing him since his run through the forest earlier that day. ‘What are we?’

  There was a low, deep laugh. ‘I think you already know.’

  And as he fell asleep, he realised that he did know, and had for some time. He just hadn’t accepted it until that moment.

  -22-

  David sat on the worn couch in front of the television, watching some soft-focus late-night chat program, which was interrupted periodically by advertisements for farm equipment. Other than the glow of the cathode ray tube, the motel room was completely dark. He’d drawn all the curtains and turned off all the lights, afraid that someone might come for him.

  His call to Voight had gone to plan, but now he suspected that the plan may have been foolhardy. Voight was... well, there was no word for what the man was, or for what he did. He was a shadow man, connected to crime and politics and heaven knew what else. He pulled strings. He opened doors. And sometimes he closed them. Some years earlier David had been doing an exposé on a man who was alleged to have ordered a gang-style hit on one of his competitors in the drug trade, and he’d stumbled onto the name of Voight along the way. Using his good sense, he’d decided to leave that out of his story. Voight had been gracious about it, and had offered him a favour if he ever needed one. Not wanting to ally himself with the devil, David had declined.

  But now he’d made his pact, and the results would be here at any moment. And there was no way out of it now.

  He had half a mind to pack up and run, drive back to the city and forget about the whole thing. So there was a cult operating down here. Fine. Each to their own. And if Paul was now involved, so be it. He was a grown man and could make his own decisions. But David knew he couldn’t do that. There was nowhere on this green earth that Voight couldn’t find him, and he would come looking if David welched on this deal. The money he’d withdrawn from the local bank was a significant sum, and a percentage of that would make its way back to the man in the shadows, but David knew it wasn’t about the money. It was about respect. It was about manners. And a lapse in manners could get him killed.

  He turned the object he held in his hands over and over again. It was Paul’s cane, left behind when he went to... well, wherever that was. It was his spare, which he rarely used, so the surface was much less scratched and dinted than the one he usually used. Even so, David thought it was unusual that he’d left it behind. Not to mention all his clothes, still half-stuffed into his green duffel bag. Even his worn-out toothbrush was still on the sink in the bathroom. There was no doubt in David’s mind that when Paul left, he’d fully intended to return. And yet he hadn’t.

  There was a word for that: abduction.

  The heavy knock at the door made David jump, and he dropped the cane onto the carpet with a quiet thud. He got to his feet, his stomach ulcer complaining, and went to the door. He looked through the eyehole.

  Two big men in leather were standing outside, looking impatient. David suspected that if he didn’t answer the door in a few seconds they wouldn’t knock again. They’d just kick the door in and be done with it. He took a couple of breaths to try to calm himself, then took the chain off the door and opened it.

  ‘Hampden?’ the first man asked. He was tal
l and lean, his face pockmarked. The sunglasses he wore, despite the darkness outside, were entirely black, giving no hint to what might be going on behind them. The man behind him was a little shorter than the first, but huge, and not fat at all. His face bore the scars of numerous fist fights, and his nose was battered almost into oblivion. David had dealt with their type before in his career, but he never stopped being uneasy around them. They both wore jackets with a small badge on the front, which bore the silhouette of a wolf baying at the moon.

  David nodded, then stood aside and gestured. ‘Please, come in.’

  ‘Don’t mind if we do,’ the first man deadpanned, and stalked inside. The other man followed closely behind him, pushing David out of the way with his bulk. David quickly looked around outside, making sure nobody was watching. Then he closed the door and turned around.

  The two men had made themselves comfortable on the couch, or at least as comfortable as they could. They looked at David coldly, still wearing their sunglasses.

  ‘Beer?’ the second man asked simply.

  David shook his head. ‘Sorry, I don’t have any.’

  ‘Then why the fuck’re we meetin’ here?’ he spat, kicking the coffee table in front of him. It spun away and hit the television set, knocking the aerial onto the floor. The picture dissolved into snow.

  ‘Cool it, Goon,’ the first man said, putting a hand on his shoulder. For a moment David expected the big man to attack his companion, incensed by the insult, but then he realised that ‘Goon’ was a name, not a description. The tall man turned to David, smiling. ‘We’re meetin’ here because it’s outta sight. No cops, no locals, and,’ he emphasised, ‘no fuckin’ carnies.’

  ‘Okay, Tacker,’ the big man said, sulking a little.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Hey, no shit on my boots, mate,’ Tacker laughed.

  ‘Just don’t want you killin’ this prick before we get paid.’ He hadn’t taken his eyes off David. ‘You got the money?’ he said to him.