The Iron Warrior
Page 31
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Kenzie, following my gaze, drew in a sharp breath. “That’s the anchor,” she said quietly. “The very center of the carnival.”
“Yes,” Grimalkin agreed. “Destroy the carousel, and this reality will disappear. Without the anchor, everything will fade back into the Between. You will have to do it quickly, though. The denizens that make up this world are none too pleased with you.”
“Great. So, how do we destroy it?” I asked, looking down at the cat. Only to find that he was gone.
Something moved in the corner of my eye. I looked into the nearest game booth...as one of the teddy bears dislodged itself from the wall, crawled onto the counter and bared sharp little teeth at me. And then I noticed that all the toys, dolls and stuffed animals had turned their heads and were staring at us, eyes glowing like hot coals in the shadows of the booths.
I don’t think I’ve ever run so fast in my life.
High-pitched voices shrieked and babbled at us as we fled down the fairway, and several things leaped off the walls, trying to grab us as we ran. A porcelain doll with a cracked face staggered into the road in front of Kenzie, holding up its arms; Kenzie kicked the thing away like it was soccer ball and didn’t slow down. A red-eyed clown doll sprang at me from one of the counters, miniature butcher knife in one gloved hand. I smacked it away with my sword and kept running.
We reached the carousel, and as we got close, the animals came to life, snarling and thrashing against their poles, trying to bite us. I dodged a kick from a horse’s hoof and slashed my sword at a giant, blood-drenched white rabbit as it came around. The blade hacked through an ear, causing it to clatter to the floor, but it didn’t seem to affect the carousel itself.
“Get to the middle!” the Thin Man ordered, pointing through the mob of shrieking, hissing animals. Our reflections stared back at us from the mirrored center, a dozen Ethans, Kenzies and Thin Men, gazing out of gilded panels. “Smash the mirrors,” the Thin Man called, leaping onto the carousel. “The mirrors are the very center of this world. Destroy them and—” A dragon lashed out and clamped its jaws around his arm, and the Thin Man disappeared as he turned to deal with it.
I swore. “All right, guess I’m going in. Kenzie, maybe you can find something to throw at them? Maybe grab some baseballs from one of the booths?”
“Um, Ethan?” Kenzie said, her voice slightly strangled. “Not a great idea.” I looked back and saw a flood of stuffed animals and dolls staggering down the road at us, their eerie red eyes like a swarm of ants. Beyond them, and closing from all directions, was an army of clowns and circus freaks, twisted, deformed and looking pissed as hell.
My blood went cold. “Okay, then,” I gasped, turning back to the carousel, trying to find a break between snarling, writhing creatures. Spotting a hole between a leopard and the rabbit I’d smacked earlier, I grabbed Kenzie’s hand and yelled, “Jump!”
We leaped onto the carousel. The rabbit screamed and clawed, gnashing long front incisors, but thankfully couldn’t reach us. “Wait here,” I told Kenzie, as the other animals eyed us balefully and bared their teeth. I winced. Getting through unscathed was going to be difficult, but I’d rather I be the one gored by that evil-looking unicorn than Kenzie.
Without waiting for a reply, I started toward the center. A wolf snapped at me; I dodged aside. A tiger raked its claws at my head; I twisted just enough to catch it on the shoulder rather than the face, though it still tore a chunk from my arm and made my eyes water with pain. The last few feet to the mirrors were blocked by the unicorn and the bear, and I paused, trying to find a good time to dart through.
Kenzie let out a yelp. I looked back to see a clown, its painted mouth gaping to show jagged fangs, grab for the carousel, miss and stagger away. But as we spun around, I could see more things leaping onto the edges, clinging to the poles as the carousel whirled ever faster and the animals roared with rage.
“Dammit.” I spun, braced myself and dived through the opening, wincing as the unicorn’s horn jabbed me in the back. Rolling upright, I charged a panel, raised my sword and brought the hilt smashing down on the surface as hard as I could.
The glass shattered. And so did everything else. My reflection exploded into a dozen fragments and collapsed, just as the carousel, the carnival and the sky overhead did the same. Shards of reality rained down on us, as I staggered back to Kenzie, yanked her to me and covered her body with mine as best I could. I didn’t know what was happening with the clowns, the freaks and the killer toys; I just hoped we wouldn’t be cut to ribbons in the blink of an eye. Shrieks and screams rang out, and the air filled with the roar of a million chandeliers crashing all at once. And then, dead silence.
Cautiously, I looked up.
The carnival was gone. The tents and clowns and eerie booths were gone. Kenzie and I stood at the center of an ancient, run-down carousel, plaster horses cracked and peeling and definitely not alive. Around us, the Between stretched out, dark and misty and endless.
I looked down at Kenzie. “You okay?”
She nodded, and I slumped in relief. “Well,” she said, as Razor dropped onto a horse’s head, buzzing, and the Thin Man wove his way through the mounts toward us, looking annoyed, “that was...horrifying. At least I can cross one more thing off the list of things I want to do before I die.”
“Survive the clown apocalypse?” I guessed. She grinned at me.
“Nope. Join the circus.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. Relief that we were out of that crazy place was making me kind of giddy. I was even thrilled to see the dark, empty creepiness of the Between. That’s how glad I was. “You’re a strange girl,” I told her. “Brilliant, but strange.”
She beamed. “That’s why you love me.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. She sobered, gazing into my eyes, as I pulled her closer against me. “Though if you do ever join the circus,” I murmured, holding her gaze, “promise me you won’t volunteer for the knife thrower’s assistant? I think I had at least three minor heart attacks tonight.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kenzie said, a wicked look crossing her face. “It was kind of exciting. The two of us could perfect an act and take it on the road.” At my mock horrified look, she smiled and brushed back my hair. “I trust you, tough guy,” she murmured. “Even tonight in the ring, when I wasn’t certain if you would throw the knife at my head or use it to stab the ringmaster, I trusted you. I know you would never hurt me.”
“Humans.”
Grimalkin’s bored voice cut through the silence. I drew back, rolling my eyes, as the cat appeared on the saddle of a nearby horse. “I would say we are wasting time,” he said, thumping his tail against the peeling paint, “but it never appears to sink in. Shall we go, before the Between starts manifesting hearts and balloons and other nauseating things?” The cat rose and leaped gracefully off the carousel horse, giving us a revolted look as he landed. “I shudder to think of the reality that might spring up around the pair of you. I believe it would be even more frightening than the carnival.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
VANISHED REALITIES
More wandering the Between. Okay, maybe wandering wasn’t the right word, as the Thin Man seemed to know where he was going. But it sure felt like wandering, walking in endless circles through a creepy landscape that was always more of the same. I ached, from various wounds caused by throwing knives, tiger claws and unicorn horns. And now I was paranoid about stumbling into another pocket of reality, another whacked-out world that had sprung from the head of a bat-shit crazy fey. The carnival had been terrifying enough; I did not want to find myself suddenly trapped in an abandoned asylum, running from nightmares in long white coats wanting to “cure” me.
“Yes,” Grimalkin agreed. “Destroy the carousel, and this reality will disappear. Without the anchor, everything will fade back into the Between. You will have to do it quickly, though. The denizens that make up this world are none too pleased with you.”
“Great. So, how do we destroy it?” I asked, looking down at the cat. Only to find that he was gone.
Something moved in the corner of my eye. I looked into the nearest game booth...as one of the teddy bears dislodged itself from the wall, crawled onto the counter and bared sharp little teeth at me. And then I noticed that all the toys, dolls and stuffed animals had turned their heads and were staring at us, eyes glowing like hot coals in the shadows of the booths.
I don’t think I’ve ever run so fast in my life.
High-pitched voices shrieked and babbled at us as we fled down the fairway, and several things leaped off the walls, trying to grab us as we ran. A porcelain doll with a cracked face staggered into the road in front of Kenzie, holding up its arms; Kenzie kicked the thing away like it was soccer ball and didn’t slow down. A red-eyed clown doll sprang at me from one of the counters, miniature butcher knife in one gloved hand. I smacked it away with my sword and kept running.
We reached the carousel, and as we got close, the animals came to life, snarling and thrashing against their poles, trying to bite us. I dodged a kick from a horse’s hoof and slashed my sword at a giant, blood-drenched white rabbit as it came around. The blade hacked through an ear, causing it to clatter to the floor, but it didn’t seem to affect the carousel itself.
“Get to the middle!” the Thin Man ordered, pointing through the mob of shrieking, hissing animals. Our reflections stared back at us from the mirrored center, a dozen Ethans, Kenzies and Thin Men, gazing out of gilded panels. “Smash the mirrors,” the Thin Man called, leaping onto the carousel. “The mirrors are the very center of this world. Destroy them and—” A dragon lashed out and clamped its jaws around his arm, and the Thin Man disappeared as he turned to deal with it.
I swore. “All right, guess I’m going in. Kenzie, maybe you can find something to throw at them? Maybe grab some baseballs from one of the booths?”
“Um, Ethan?” Kenzie said, her voice slightly strangled. “Not a great idea.” I looked back and saw a flood of stuffed animals and dolls staggering down the road at us, their eerie red eyes like a swarm of ants. Beyond them, and closing from all directions, was an army of clowns and circus freaks, twisted, deformed and looking pissed as hell.
My blood went cold. “Okay, then,” I gasped, turning back to the carousel, trying to find a break between snarling, writhing creatures. Spotting a hole between a leopard and the rabbit I’d smacked earlier, I grabbed Kenzie’s hand and yelled, “Jump!”
We leaped onto the carousel. The rabbit screamed and clawed, gnashing long front incisors, but thankfully couldn’t reach us. “Wait here,” I told Kenzie, as the other animals eyed us balefully and bared their teeth. I winced. Getting through unscathed was going to be difficult, but I’d rather I be the one gored by that evil-looking unicorn than Kenzie.
Without waiting for a reply, I started toward the center. A wolf snapped at me; I dodged aside. A tiger raked its claws at my head; I twisted just enough to catch it on the shoulder rather than the face, though it still tore a chunk from my arm and made my eyes water with pain. The last few feet to the mirrors were blocked by the unicorn and the bear, and I paused, trying to find a good time to dart through.
Kenzie let out a yelp. I looked back to see a clown, its painted mouth gaping to show jagged fangs, grab for the carousel, miss and stagger away. But as we spun around, I could see more things leaping onto the edges, clinging to the poles as the carousel whirled ever faster and the animals roared with rage.
“Dammit.” I spun, braced myself and dived through the opening, wincing as the unicorn’s horn jabbed me in the back. Rolling upright, I charged a panel, raised my sword and brought the hilt smashing down on the surface as hard as I could.
The glass shattered. And so did everything else. My reflection exploded into a dozen fragments and collapsed, just as the carousel, the carnival and the sky overhead did the same. Shards of reality rained down on us, as I staggered back to Kenzie, yanked her to me and covered her body with mine as best I could. I didn’t know what was happening with the clowns, the freaks and the killer toys; I just hoped we wouldn’t be cut to ribbons in the blink of an eye. Shrieks and screams rang out, and the air filled with the roar of a million chandeliers crashing all at once. And then, dead silence.
Cautiously, I looked up.
The carnival was gone. The tents and clowns and eerie booths were gone. Kenzie and I stood at the center of an ancient, run-down carousel, plaster horses cracked and peeling and definitely not alive. Around us, the Between stretched out, dark and misty and endless.
I looked down at Kenzie. “You okay?”
She nodded, and I slumped in relief. “Well,” she said, as Razor dropped onto a horse’s head, buzzing, and the Thin Man wove his way through the mounts toward us, looking annoyed, “that was...horrifying. At least I can cross one more thing off the list of things I want to do before I die.”
“Survive the clown apocalypse?” I guessed. She grinned at me.
“Nope. Join the circus.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. Relief that we were out of that crazy place was making me kind of giddy. I was even thrilled to see the dark, empty creepiness of the Between. That’s how glad I was. “You’re a strange girl,” I told her. “Brilliant, but strange.”
She beamed. “That’s why you love me.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. She sobered, gazing into my eyes, as I pulled her closer against me. “Though if you do ever join the circus,” I murmured, holding her gaze, “promise me you won’t volunteer for the knife thrower’s assistant? I think I had at least three minor heart attacks tonight.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kenzie said, a wicked look crossing her face. “It was kind of exciting. The two of us could perfect an act and take it on the road.” At my mock horrified look, she smiled and brushed back my hair. “I trust you, tough guy,” she murmured. “Even tonight in the ring, when I wasn’t certain if you would throw the knife at my head or use it to stab the ringmaster, I trusted you. I know you would never hurt me.”
“Humans.”
Grimalkin’s bored voice cut through the silence. I drew back, rolling my eyes, as the cat appeared on the saddle of a nearby horse. “I would say we are wasting time,” he said, thumping his tail against the peeling paint, “but it never appears to sink in. Shall we go, before the Between starts manifesting hearts and balloons and other nauseating things?” The cat rose and leaped gracefully off the carousel horse, giving us a revolted look as he landed. “I shudder to think of the reality that might spring up around the pair of you. I believe it would be even more frightening than the carnival.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
VANISHED REALITIES
More wandering the Between. Okay, maybe wandering wasn’t the right word, as the Thin Man seemed to know where he was going. But it sure felt like wandering, walking in endless circles through a creepy landscape that was always more of the same. I ached, from various wounds caused by throwing knives, tiger claws and unicorn horns. And now I was paranoid about stumbling into another pocket of reality, another whacked-out world that had sprung from the head of a bat-shit crazy fey. The carnival had been terrifying enough; I did not want to find myself suddenly trapped in an abandoned asylum, running from nightmares in long white coats wanting to “cure” me.
