Josey turned away and pushed out through the curtains into the arcade looking like he’d seen a ghost.

“Are you feeling sick again?” asked Tricia.

“I’m OK,” Josey took a deep breath.

“What was she saying to you?”

“The fortune teller? Nothing. Some ridiculous nonsense...”

“Like what?”

“I don’t remember. It was nothing.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing, Josey,” Tricia said quietly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

Josey put his arms around her, “I know, Trish.” She pulled him closer.

A brass fanfare resounded from the main tent area.

“Hey, you guys! Cut it out! It’s time to go in! It’s starting!” shouted Sam. He grabbed their hands and dragged them across the arcade towards the entrance.

Inside the main tent, the air was alive with the electricity of the crowd. Josey, Trish and Sam made their way around, climbed up into the grandstand, and found their seats. Clowns were already somersaulting and cavorting around the sawdust ring as the audience settled in, buzzing with excitement.

A parade of elephants, with beautiful girls in glittering costumes dancing on the elephants’ backs, lumbered swaying through an archway. They marched around the ring, followed by two rows of little poodles with red hats and vests, walking on their hind legs. Then a beautiful woman rode out standing astride a pair of black ponies. She circled the ring with one leg on each pony’s back as they jumped through a series of fiery hoops. The crowd roared its approval.

The Ring Master, in black tails and top hat, stepped to the center of the ring and bowed to the audience. He announced, in ringing tones that echoed through the big top,

“Lay-dees and Gen-tlemen! And now... The moment you’ve been waiting for! Direct... from the rolling hills of Tran-syl-VAY-nia, celebrated from Lisbon to Ashkhabad, renowned in the capitals of Europe and Russia, the man who flies, the man who laughs at gravity, the death-defying...” He turned to the band, “May I have a drum roll, please!”

The snare took its cue. The house lights went dark and a spotlight beam put its bright circle of light on the entrance arch to the ring. “Nikko the Mag-NIF-ificent!”

A brightly colored bundle of rags lurched out the archway, flipped and tumbled, and landed prone, face down in the center ring. Laughter rippled through the crowd. Nikko stood, brushed the sawdust from his pants, and bowed to the audience. He had a sad face, drooping eyes, a turned down mouth, and long frizzy bright orange hair that stood on end. Nikko turned towards the Ring Master, but tripped over his own legs and fell again. The crowd howled in glee.

As Nikko stood up, he caught sight of the rope ladder that led up a pole to the trapeze platform high above the ring. He ran towards the pole, tripping and stumbling, and grabbed hold of the rope ladder to keep himself from falling again. As he started up the shaky ladder, the crowd gasped. As he climbed, Nikko’s arms and legs kept slipping through the rungs. He lost his grip, dangled by one leg, hanging upside down in mid air, but somehow impossibly held on.

He climbed higher and higher until he reached the tiny trapeze platform at the very peak of the Big Top tent. Nikko turned and waved down to the roaring crowd. Josey must have imagined it, but the clown’s eyes, as they swept across the audience, seemed to pause and rest on Josey for a moment.

There was no net beneath the trapeze. With all eyes raised upon him, Nikko did a little jig high on the tiny platform, but slipped off and hung dangling from the edge by one hand. He struggled to climb back up, but lost his grip and slipped loose. At the last second, he grabbed the trapeze bar and swung out from the platform. He let go of the bar and soared through the air high above the center ring. The crowd screamed.

With the next trapeze bar seeming out of reach, at the moment he seemed destined to fall, Nikko somehow managed to grab the bar with one hand. He swung himself up but began to fall off the other side and dangled in the air, holding the bar with one foot, but losing his grip and slipping off.

When all seemed lost, he twisted his body, flew through the air and grabbed on to a rope hanging from the far platform. Upside down, Nikko shot down the rope face first towards the sawdust floor but stopped short at the last possible second, his nose inches from the ground. The crowd leapt to its feet. Letting go of the rope, Nikko did a back flip, landed on his feet and, with a wide grin, made a deep bow to the audience, now on its feet in thunderous applause.

* * *

After the circus, Josey dropped Tricia and Sam off at their apartment. Sam ran in to tell his mom about Nikko but Tricia lingered in the hallway to say good-night. She leaned close to Josey and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. Josey hardly noticed. He seemed distant, preoccupied. Tricia watched him for a moment.

“You want to tell me now what’s wrong, Josey?” she asked.

“I’m fine now.” He kissed her and tried to smile.

“I don’t believe you. You look worried.”

Josey hugged her. “Not when I’m with you.”

Tricia rested for a moment in his arms, then pushed gently away,

“You’re not getting off that easy. What is it? What’s bothering you?”

“I don’t know. I feel like something bad’s about to happen but I don’t know what or why. It’s dumb, huh?”

A cloud crossed Tricia’s face, “It’s not us, is it?”

“No-o-o!” Josey hugged her close. Tricia’s eyes were tearing,

“Then don’t clam up on me, Josey. We have to communicate. I need to understand you. Maybe I can help.”

“You are helping, Trish. Just stick with me while I sort this out.”

“Sort WHAT out?” Tricia pushed away from him. “That’s what I don’t understand!”

She went into the apartment and shut the door behind her.

Josey stood a moment. He didn’t want to leave with Trish upset. She was taking this the wrong way. But what could he say? That the fortune teller read his palm? That something evil was stalking him? That things just were getting weird? It all seemed kind of silly now. It made no sense. But still, he couldn’t shake it. He turned to go. There was nothing he could say to Trish since he didn’t understand it himself. He’d deal with it tomorrow.

Josey left the building, zipped his jacket, and walked across 103rd St. towards the subway station. It was late and cold. The haloed disc of the moon shone down through wispy, fast moving clouds. There weren’t many people on the street at this hour. Lights shone behind the curtained windows. People were home, keeping warm, watching TV. There was no one in sight except for one person standing on the far corner looking in his direction. Josey hurried towards the subway stop. The person on the corner started walking in the same direction.

Josey reached the subway entrance and started down the stairs. He felt the rumble and, as he pushed through the turnstile, saw the last car of the C train disappearing into the tunnel. Josey looked up and down the platform. The station was deserted. A big rat scurried along the tracks through the trash and garbage. In the dim light, Josey looked around at the grimy walls and dirty floor. The old mosaics, once beautiful, were cracked and broken with pieces missing and patched crudely with cement. Water dripped through peeling plaster in the ceiling, forming a puddle near the empty token booth, the clerk long gone home for the night. Josey walked to the center of the platform and sat on a bench to wait. On a pillar, beneath the snowy rippling screen of a broken closed circuit video monitor, an emergency phone was mounted, the receiver dangling dead from a twisted cord.

Josey heard a creak. Someone had pushed through the turnstile and come out on the far end of the platform. The newcomer paid Josey no mind and stood at some distance, waiting for the next train. Josey studied him for a moment and returned to his own thoughts. The dead strongman had freaked him out. And then the fortune teller had given him the creeps. What was her problem, anyway? Nikko, of course, had been amazing. But Trish. Why couldn’t he tell her how he felt? It was like he had built a wall around himself. It was stupid pride or something...

“You were at the show tonight.”

Startled, Josey looked up. The person from the end of the platform had come up to him. It was a man in a loose cloak with sad eyes and long spiky red hair that stood straight out from his head in all directions. He looked vaguely familiar. Josey noticed smudges of greasepaint on the man’s chin.

“What?”

“I saw you at the circus,” the man spoke slowly, sadly.

“You saw me?”

“I did. I felt your presence.”

Josey stared at the man, “I don’t know you. How could you pick me out of the crowd?”

“We all saw you. We’ve been waiting for you. “

Josey stood up, “What are you talking about?”

The man leaned closer to Josey. His eyes drilled into Josey’s mind. Josey gasped for breath. He realized in horror that he couldn’t move his arms or legs.

Everything began to spin. A heavy curtain was dropping across his senses, blocking out the outside world. He couldn’t breathe. It was stifling, unbearable, a thick impenetrable fog. He struggled to clear his mind, to free himself, to move, but he was paralyzed in space and time. He felt hot breath on his neck and heard the voice, droning in his ear, inside his head now,

“Neither one of us alone is strong enough. Perhaps together...”

Josey felt something on his neck, like the sting of an insect, and then the lick of a soft, moist tongue. He blacked out.

An woman in a dark, hooded cape was hurrying down the platform towards the two figures, one lying on his back, the other kneeling hunched low over the prone figure.

“Nikko!”

“Don’t worry, Sonya. I meant no harm. I wanted to warn him...”

“Silence!” commanded Madame Sonya. “Pick him up. Carefully!”

The red-haired wild man lifted Josey as if he were a feather and carried him in his arms towards the exit, following the fortune teller. As they reached the turnstile and started up the steps, the next train was rumbling into the empty station.

* * *

Josey awoke sunk into the deep cushions of a soft bed. The room was dim. The faint light of dawn shone through a high window. The walls were billowing, translucent fabric. An acrid fragrance wafted through the room.

“You’re awake.”

Josey heard a soft voice, like a little tinkling bell. A young woman his own age, with dark hair and dark eyes, was sitting beside the bed. Her face was oval, her complexion nut brown. She placed her hand on Josey’s.

Josey groaned, “What happened?”

“Lie still. My grandmother said you fainted in the subway. She and Nikko brought you back here.”

“Where?”

“The circus.”

“Why didn’t they call an ambulance?”

“We take care of our own.”

Josey tried to rise but fell back to the pillow.

“Grandma is treating you with fenugreek and mugwort. The potion drains your strength for a time as it heals your wounds.”

“Wounds?”

“You... fell on the concrete platform. And...” The girl broke off.

“And what?”

“Nikko. It’s not his fault. He’s easily tempted, like a child. He couldn’t help himself. He meant no harm...”

“What are you talking about?”

“He... bit you.”

“What do you mean, he bit me?” Josey felt frantic.

“Just a little nip. Like a playful puppy. He couldn’t resist. Grandmother was terribly upset. She’s punished him.”

Josey heard the swish of curtains. Madame Sonya had come into the room. She held a tray with a mortar and pestle and a steaming bowl of something that looked like stew. The girl stood up. Madame Sonya placed the tray on the night table and took the seat by the bed. A pungent fragrance drifted through the air. Madame Sonya took the pestle and ground some substance in the mortar. With her long, slender fingers, she applied the paste to Josey’s neck.

“How do you feel, Josey?”

“Like hell. That lunatic took a bite out of me? Why isn’t he locked up?”

“No iron bars could hold him. But he is not insane. Some are, but not he. His mortal vessel holds another wandering soul, kindred to yours. He sensed it and could not resist the attraction of your ancient spirit. He wanted to share in the feast of life, knowing it was wrong. But no serious harm has been done. Nothing has changed. It is only the paths converging.”

“You people are nuts! Was he the danger you tried to warn me about?”

“Nikko?” laughed the fortune teller. “No, my child. He is no threat. Quite the contrary. He is one of your strongest allies. He has his role to play. His threads are tangled with yours and remain so unless severed. The outcome, though, is not yet clear. The road still forks in many places. Too many variants remain active. More decisions will be made. But the danger of which I spoke, the putrid evil that seeps through the darkness towards you, has not turned away. It draws closer, even as we speak.”

“I... I...” Josey tried to sit up.

“Rest. Have a sip of this.”

Madame Sonya picked up the bowl of stew and fed Josey a spoonful.

Josey choked, “Ugh, that’s awful. What is it?”

“Homemade broth. A secret family recipe. My grandmother learned it from her grandmother. I’ll pass it to my own grand-child when the time comes. It has... medicinal qualities. Drink just a little more.”

Josey took a few more spoonfuls and thought he was going to retch. He fell back to the pillow and looked helplessly at Madame Sonya and then at her dark eyed grand-daughter. The girl leaned over him and put her hand on his forehead.

“He’s warm.”

“The fever will break soon.”

Josey felt the girl’s soft hand. Their eyes met and something passed between them, like an electric shock. He closed his eyes. From the touch of her hand, a soothing wave spread through his body, relaxing, healing. The distant ringing in his ears seemed to fade. He felt himself as if bathed in warm waters, as if floating free, free of cares and troubles, and lost consciousness again.

“Let him sleep, dear,” Madame Sonya said to her grand-daughter. “The incantations have been said. The potion is highly concentrated and works quickly. It spreads through his being even now. His strength will soon return and his power is growing. But he will find he sorely needs it. It still may not be enough...”

The dark haired girl leaned over Josey and kissed him as he slept.

“He’s awfully cute.”

“Yes, he is. Quite handsome.”

“I’m frightened, Grandma.”

“I am, too.”

* * *

Proceed to part 3...

Copyright © 2008 by Bill Bowler