Circus Wolf (3 page)

A stab of doubt shot through him. Was his confidence a
mirage?
No, I can do this!

In his other life,
before the angel resurrected him, he’d had
glint-less tombstone gray eyes
and a hunched back. She found him a host body blessed with soft, friendly gray
eyes. He’d found being blessed with gentle, smiling eyes helped him in his
desire to mingle with people; he counted on the gray warmth to help land this
job and, if lucky, later make it possible to meet and charm the woman of his
dreams.

He clung to the enticing, glistening chain of hope,
dangling like gold in his mind. He could never have attracted a woman in a good
way when he was a hunchback. He raked his inky hair and stood tall and
straight; with his new erect, strong body he had a chance. Angela, his
brother’s wife, had told him he had a
handsome, young-looking face. He’d tried not to let the compliment go to his
head, but it gave him a measure of confidence to know he no longer repulsed
women.

Hugh glanced up. Evening had brought total darkness to the
moonless sky except for the bright glow spread across the circus grounds lying
directly ahead
.
As he walked through
the fine mist, anticipation built in his soul. Parents yanked their children
forward. Behind and ahead of him families and groups of laughing people hurried
toward the tall entry arches to buy tickets. He lined up with them. Then, with
tickets in hand they proceeded orderly through the turn-style gates.

A blanket of lights lay at the bottom of a double
Ferris wheel and around its circumference. The wheel made a slow slice through
the glowing brightness. A din of band music mingled with the hum of the milling
crowds and joined with the distant sound of whizzing cars on the nearby
freeway. He was probably the only one who noticed the cars. But with his sharp
wolf hearing he heard more than regular humans.

His brown leather jacket, snapped to the neck,
protected him from the brisk wind, but the chill went right through his jeans
and the cold and mounting exhilaration speeded his steps. He followed the
smells of popping corn and cotton candy into the arcade area.

Watching the time, he wandered through the various
rides and their glittering lights including the merry-go-round, the Ferris
wheel, and the whips while listening to barkers and a hodge-podge of lively
music. He familiarized himself with the lay of the land. Yes, yes, this was the
thrilling atmosphere he hoped would be his new traveling home.

Thick fog crept from the west down from the Cajon
Pass, joined by patches of vapor drifting down from the high mountain peaks
behind the Arrowhead Springs Hotel, an imposing and brooding historic monument
that had survived fires and earthquakes.

He spied a fortune teller’s tent. He smiled. Madam
Mystic’s banner promised a peek at the future for only five bucks. Hugh
remembered Damon’s late-departed crystal gazer, Nola, with fondness. He
wouldn’t have believed looking into the future was possible, but Damon had
sworn Madam Nola was authentic. That didn’t mean this gal was. But since he had
a little time before his job interview, it might be a kick to get a reading. It
would be worth a few bucks if she told him he’d get this job.

 
Hugh opened the flap of the fortune teller’s tent and
paused. The inside reeked of

incense
and sawdust. Fighting a tickling nose, he glanced around the dimly lit
interior. At the back hung heavy velvet drapes with pasted cut-outs of coiled
rattlers, owls, hawks, stars, and crescent moons. A painting hung from a wire.
It was a familiar piece of art displaying a full moon and, on a snow-covered
boulder, a howling gray wolf. Along a counter, the Halloween-type décor
revealed skulls with what he hoped were make-believe worm-like snakes crawling
out of the eyes and mouth.

He frowned. The place pandered to the superstitious and
easily frightened. And he was neither. Still, he was ready to high-tail it out
of there when a section of the drapes parted. “Don’t leave, my brother. I’ve
been expecting you. Please, come in and sit down.”

The mystic, a big-boned Amazon-sized African woman with a
calypso accent, waved him in with a flourish. Her arms were muscled and husky
enough to wrestle a bear. The woman’s head was wrapped in a silk burgundy
turban. Her long carroty hair, probably a wig, frizzed around her strong-jawed
face. Was she a man pretending to be a woman or a woman with masculine
features? With such huge breasts, she was probably female. Either way she
lacked feminine softness and her
masculinity
made him edgy as hell.

 
When she lit some
low iridescent gold candles, the glint of her dagger-like nails on

her
immense, ham-hock hands blinded him for an instant.

Although feeling an urge get the hell out of there, he sat
down, mesmerized by the stage she’d set and the captivating performance.

“I read tea leaves, palms, and tarot cards,” she said in a
raspy tone. “For a few dollars more, I’ll gaze into the opaque crystal ball and
alert you more intimately to your future…your fate.”

He turned one of his pockets inside out and laughed. “Do
you give discounts to future employees?”

Her heavily made-up eyes narrowed. “So, you’re a
tight-fisted man. Such a pity.”

“Actually, I’m a man without a job.” He grinned. “But then
maybe your spirits already told you that.” If she was on the level, maybe they
also told her he had a prepaid debt card and $18,000 in a savings account from
his work for his brother and from his small construction business.

“I understand about nearly empty pockets. I, too, was once
at poverty’s door. I can give you a discount on the higher priced reading this
once. But next time the fee will double.”

He shook his head. “What makes you think there’ll be a next
time?”

She laughed, throatily. “The Fates have decreed it. You’ll
see.” She eased her bulky frame into a chair. When it creaked at the weight,
she smoothed non-existent wrinkles from the downy tapestry covering the round
table. A chill slid down his spine when he noticed the table cloth revealed a
forest scene and a baying pack of wolves. Was her wolf décor a coincidence?”

A huge, Persian sooty black cat jumped up on the table,
curled his tail around his plump, long-haired body, and stared unblinkingly at
Hugh with piercing green eyes.

 
Hugh loosened his
collar.
I’ll bet this fortune teller has a
rap sheet a mile long. She definitely has the finesse of a scammer
.

He tapped the cloth and gestured toward the wolf painting.
“Do you have a fondness for wolves, Madam Mystic?”

“Yes, and tigers and certain other creatures of the night.
But you didn’t come here to talk about me. So let’s move on. Because I like
you, I’ll give you a very special crystal ball reading.” She met his gaze and
patted the table. “Just as soon as you plunk down your five bucks.”

Hugh dug the money out of the hidden compartment in his
tool belt. Before it touched the table, the mystic snatched up the bill and
tucked it into the deep, dark cleavage of her at least size-forty bosoms.

She touched something under the table and the room darkened
and a heady sweet incense sprayed from the mouth of one of the skulls.

Madam Mystic waved her hand across the crystal ball and
called on the spirits in some African mumbo-jumbo. She tried twice but nothing
happened. “One more time. In special cases like yours, the spirits are
sometimes hesitant to reveal themselves,” she said in an eerie tone.

“Special cases?”

She put a finger to her lips and gestured to the opaque
crystal ball. It darkened to the color of coal with silver snakes slithering
through it. The mystic’s face took on a sinister look. “You will get your job,
my brother. But sometimes what a passionate
Shadu
-protector
like you thinks he wants is the very thing that can destroy him. Yield to
desire and you may die.”

****

Hugh left the Fortune Teller’s tent shaking his
head. At least he’d gotten the directions to the office from her. What was that
about
Shadu
-protector? How could she know about his
driving need to protect? And what about her prophesy? On the one hand Madam
Mystic said he’d get the job, on the other, maybe he shouldn’t want it. Why was
he giving any credence to what she said? He shook off her ridiculous warning
and jammed his hands into his jeans pockets and wandered around aimlessly,
fighting to keep the mystic’s words at bay and failing.
Yield to desire and you may die.

 
Soon, it was
12:30 am. Rides stopped and one by one
lights
clicked
off. The crowds got the message and ambled toward the exits. With the circus
closing down for the night, many of the workers would head for their trailers. His
appointment with the boss-man was in fifteen minutes. He headed in the
direction of the office. Damp threads of grayness met and settled over the maze
of tents and caravans as though concealing their secrets. He groaned; he was
getting melancholy again. He shook off his brooding mood.
This is my new start.

Halfway across the arcade mid-way, he passed a
banner showing a wild-looking beauty wearing only two narrow strips of what
appeared to be tiger fur. She was flanked by two ferocious-looking tigers. The
circus banner proclaimed: Tigra Tortella, Queen of the Tigers. Hugh laughed.
The curvy bundle of wildness could be the queen of his amusement park anytime.

Whoa! Where did that come from?
Apparently my power tool gene has kicked in. It isn’t like me to think
erotic thoughts about a lady
. But her manner of dress…wow! He laughed. What
a sensational match—tigress meets wolf-man. Even though she couldn’t be the
real thing, he dare not even joke about such a ridiculous and risk-ridden
union. Just taking this job was a risk; no one wanted a werewolf around,
especially close to skittish animals. It was essential to keep his lycanthropy
curse a secret. He didn’t need more complications.
Please Lord, let me land this
traveling
job, and if it is your will, perhaps allow me to meet a normal lady friend to
while away the hours and end my aching loneliness
.

Hugh entered the caravan-trailer marked office. He
shook hands with the husky Carney-circus boss behind the desk, Ralph Coleman
Once Hugh started talking,
he
couldn’t seem to stop.
“I’m a hard worker, can think on my feet, and I get along well with others. I’m
a
skilled
maintenance man, animal handler, jack of all
trades, and the perfect roustabout. I can rig tents, set up high-wire lines and
carnival rides with the best of them.” He rattled on about all the jobs he’d
had and gave his half-brother, Damon, as a reference. Coleman stared at him
with a hard gaze as though seeking more. But he’d given his best sales pitch
and there was nothing more to say, so he shut up and prayed. After an uncomfortable
silence Coleman
steepled
his hands. “Do you have any
questions, Hugh?”

“Yes, sir.
Are you going to hire me?”

Coleman laughed. “With your directness, roustabout
experience, hunger for work, and the fact we’re shorthanded, I’d be crazy not
to hire you. When can you start?”

“Tonight.
May I sleep somewhere on the grounds until—”

“You can use caravan thirteen if you’re not superstitious.
I’ll fax your resume to the head office and get you on the payroll. We’ll start
you as a roustabout. And in our operation that means you’ll do whatever needs
to be done. Tigra’s assistant Rolo left quite suddenly, leaving her
shorthanded.
Report to her in the morning.
She’ll keep
you busy.
But watch out
for her passions. She tries to pull everyone she meets into her fight against
the capture and caging of wild tigers as pets. And she’s always heading up a
collection to save the big cats from extinction.”

Hugh
smiled. He liked her already.
But it added to his anxiety about
the new job to accept he was also thinking how much he’d like to get into those
little strips of fur. Holy demons! He needed a cold shower. He cleared his
throat.
“She sounds like a woman after my own heart.”

 
Coleman’s gaze darkened. “For your sake, I
hope not. And watch yourself; she has a way of getting what she wants. T
ake
care around her tigers. They get testy with strangers and, like their trainer,
have a volatile way of getting what they want as well.”

Chapter
Five

Aerialist-vampire Vance watched out his caravan’s
picture window for Tigra. He coveted her blood so badly he could taste it. He
looked up at his raven. “You know, Blacky, in my former life, I was an October
31
^st
Scorpio with an extraordinary capacity to remake myself into a
suitable image in line with my needs. I feel confident I can portray an image
to Tigra which will eventually unite us.”

He gently lifted the bird from the perch and stroked
his smooth coal black
feathers
.“
One
of my most useful qualities is my ability to adapt well to each lifetime,” he
told the bird with pride in his voice. He stared across the room with his dark,
haunting eyes, seeing his past flashing before him. Perhaps seeing it all in a
flash was necessary because of the many lifetimes behind him. “Blacky boy, did
I ever tell you I was a professor in one of my journeys and an actor in
another? It was beneficial to be able to hang onto what I’d learned each time.”