The Ninth Nightmare

‘Go screw yourself,’ said Zebenjo’Yyx. ‘You ain’t havin’ my arrow storm stuff.’

‘Well, that’s your choice,’ Zachary told him. ‘But if you don’t hand over your weapons, your feathered friend here is going to be disemboweled before you can blink.’

Dom Magator looked across at An-Gryferai. He had seen other Night Warriors give their lives in the struggle against evil, and Brother Albrecht’s circus was one of the greatest evils that the world had ever faced. Corrupt, cruel and merciless. But how could he allow An-Gryferai to be cut open, right in front of him?

He unbuckled the rack of rifles on his back, lifted it off, and lowered it on to the ground. Zebenjo’Yyx said, ‘No, man! Sheeit! You can’t do that! We’re goin’ to be defenseless!’

Even Jekkalon said, ‘Yes, come on, D.M.! We’re warriors, dude! We know what the risks are!’

But Dom Magator shook his head. ‘I can’t let them butcher An-Gryferai, not in cold blood. Not when I can stop them.’

‘And how many other people are going to be butchered, because we didn’t stop Brother Albrecht? Thousands, maybe! Millions! You know what Springer told us! The whole damn planet is going to go to hell!’

Dom Magator loosened his belt and let all of his knives and handguns and ammunition magazines drop with a clatter around his feet. Zachary snapped his fingers and one of the circus hands came over and collected them up.

‘Now your friends,’ he said. ‘Come on, please. We’re running out of time here.’

‘Shit,’ said Zebenjo’Yyx, and reluctantly unfastened the arrow-firing mechanisms on his forearms. Another circus hand lifted the curved quiver off his back.

Jemexxa took off her power pack and that was carried away, too.

Zachary approached Xyrena. She looked up at him with a challenging expression on her face.

‘And what weaponry do you have, beautiful lady?’ he asked her.

Xyrena shook her head. ‘Only my irresistible looks, baldy.’

‘She’s Xyrena the Passion Warrior,’ put in Dom Magator. ‘That says it all. Don’t tell me she isn’t turning you on already. She can turn on a cigar-store Indian.’

‘OK…’ said Zachary, although he didn’t look totally convinced. ‘Now why don’t you people take a seat beside the stage? I believe that Brother Albrecht is quite keen for you to watch his final sacrifice. He always savors the taste of revenge.’

A clown with a miserable blue face led them to a collection of chairs not far behind An-Gryferai. They sat down together, feeling defeated, not even talking to each other. An-Gryerai twisted her head around to look at them and her expression was filled with pain.

Almost immediately, there was a shrill fanfare of trumpets, and the curtains at the back of the stage were drawn back. The audience clapped and whistled and whooped with excitement as the ringmaster came striding out in his bottle-green tailcoat, cracking his whip.

‘Ladies and gentlemen and those who cannot decide which they want to be! Welcome, welcome, welcome to Albrecht’s Traveling Circus and Freak Show! Today is the most momentous day that this circus has ever known! Today is the day that we make our ninth and last sacrifice to Brother Albrecht, and return this circus at last to the world where it rightly belongs!

He spun around on the heel of his black polished jackboot and cracked his whip again. ‘I give you! Albrecht’s Traveling Circus and Freak Show!’

The audience rose to their feet, roaring with excitement, as the stage was flooded with scores of clowns and freaks. Dom Magator saw Jekkalon and Jemexxa’s mother, the Demi-Goddess, being wheeled to one side. To his horror, he also saw Maria Fortales, Brother Albrecht’s eighth sacrifice. Her face looked more like a Mayan death- mask than a human face, with empty eyes. The operation on her arms had been completed by another surgeon, and now she had two huge cross-bred pythons writhing from her shoulders. Their jaws had been wired together to prevent them from biting anybody while they were on stage.

Once the throng of clowns and freaks had filled the stage, a gurney was wheeled out, and brought right to the very edge of the stage. Pinned to the gurney with leather straps was Walter Wisocky, dressed in nothing but a filthy white T-shirt. His face was swollen and his hair was sticking up and he looked as if he were only half conscious. Between his thighs there was nothing but a blood-crusted surgical dressing.

‘Jesus,’ said Dom Magator. ‘Do you know who that is? Rhodajane — can you see who it is? It’s that detective who gave me a hard time when I first took you into the Griffin House Hotel. Windsock, or whatever his name was.’

‘That’s probably what Mago Verde meant when he said that he’d mistaken your identity,’ said Xyrena. ‘He must have caught him by mistake, thinking he was you. What did I call you two? Tweedleydum and Tweedleydee.’

‘Jesus.’

But now the ringmaster cracked his whip yet again, and shouted, ‘Ladies and gentlemen! Furr-eaks and misfits! I give you… the Grand Freak himself, for the very last time in the world of dreams, Brother Albrecht!’

Accompanied by another fanfare of trumpets, Brother Albrecht’s black-canopied contraption was pushed on to the stage by his naked, tattooed entourage. The ringmaster wound the handle, and the canopy gradually opened up, revealing Brother Albrecht. His hair was tangled with fresh yellow flowers from the wheat fields around the circus site, and he was smiling in triumph.

He nodded to acknowledge the clapping and the cheering of the crowd. ‘And now,’ he announced. ‘The ninth sacrifice! Opfer nummer neun!’

Walter moaned and struggled against his restraints, but it looked to Dom Magator as if he were either sedated or in shock. He hoped for his sake that he was sedated, and heavily. God alone knew what Brother Albrecht and his assembly of freaks were planning to do to him next.

‘Now we can say goodbye to eight centuries of enforced exile!’ Brother Albrecht cried out. ‘Now we can exact our recompense for being treated as outcasts and inferiors! Es ist Zeit fur unsere Rache!’

From the rear of the stage, a man with spiky straw-colored hair appeared, wearing a long green surgeon’s robe. He was carrying a wire cage, holding it up high so that everybody in the audience could see what was inside it.

‘Oh my God,’ said Xyrena.

Leaping and jumping inside the cage was a thin black river otter, with white markings on its face. The crowd roared again, and whistled, and applauded, and the otter went into a frenzy, hurling itself from one side of the cage to the other.

‘What the hell they plannin’ to use that for?’ asked Zebenjo’Yyx. ‘Dom Magator — we should never of given up our weapons — we gotta stop them!’

The ringmaster led the man in the surgeon’s robe up to the front of the stage. ‘Ladies and gentlemen! Nondescripts! You are about to witness the conversion of our ninth sacrifice to a willing sacrifice! A freak who will agree to stay with us for ever! I give you Doctor Norman Agnew, and in turn Doctor Norman Agnew will give you Detective Walter Wisocky, Otter Lover!’

Doctor Agnew gave a gap-toothed grin, and unfastened the wire latch on the cage. He reached inside and lifted out the struggling otter, raising it up over his head. The crowd went wild, drumming their feet on the floor and standing on their seats and waving their arms.

‘Otter Lover—’ said Xyrena. ‘My God, I know what they’re going to do! That poor man!’ Without any hesitation, she stood up and walked around An-Gryferai’s chair and across to the center of the stage.

Dom Magator said, ‘Xyrena—!’ but she ignored him. She went right up close to Doctor Agnew and stood beside him, until he realized that she was there. Very slowly, he lowered the wriggling otter and stared at her.

‘Yes, madam?’ he asked her. ‘And what do you want?’

Xyrena smiled at him. ‘More to the point, doctor, what do you want?’

Doctor Agnew continued to stare at her. He didn’t say anything, but it was obvious that he was breathing more deeply. He licked his lips, and then he looked toward the black contraption where Brother Albrecht was ensconced, as if he were guilty about feeling so aroused.