The Circus Infinitus Stories Volume 1 Read online

  “He can’t breathe properly – there is a bone blocking his throat. Help me to sit him up. He can’t rest lying down.” The Ringmaster helped Dr Tumblety lift John Merrick, and almost immediately his breathing eased. His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t wake. They propped him up with some pillows so he was almost sitting vertically. “He should be more comfortable now, but he is still dying. His deformities are now so severe they are crushing his organs.”

  “So you know what is wrong with him?” asked the Ringmaster, his gaze intense.

  “I do now. He has Proteus Syndrome. His flesh and bones are growing without any sign or order or cessation. If he is to survive, this growth must be stopped. And if possible reversed.”

  “Can you do it?” rasped the man in the coat and hat, his face hidden behind a smokescreen, presumably from a cigar or pipe. The doctor tried to get a good look at his face, but it appeared to be covered with bandages. He could only see one round lens, glowing red.

  “I’m not sure. I have only just come into my full powers.” Dr Tumblety drew the talisman from inside his cloak. He expected the Ringmaster and his companion to draw back in horror. The Ringmaster did not look surprised, but the other man gave a tinny rasp, shrouding his head in even more smoke. Where was the damn cigar he was smoking? Both of his gloved hands appeared to be empty.

  The talisman floated in a glass jar of formaldehyde, throbbing with power. It was a fully intact woman’s uterus. And it contained the most important thing of all – the seed of new life, just starting within. The formaldehyde slowed the growth – Tumblety figured he would get five years out of this alchemic artefact before it required release and birth. But until then he would be able to manufacture and sell miracle cures for everything! He would be a millionaire within months.

  That is, if he was free. “I need to make some medicine,” he declared. “For a case of this severity, it may take me a few hours.”

  “Professor Abbacus will help you,” The Ringmaster gestured to his companion. “I have other matters to attend to. You can handle him, can’t you?”

  “Of course,” hissed Abbacus. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t escape.” The Ringmaster swept out, and the Professor moved up close to Tumblety, and the doctor realized he wasn’t shrouded with smoke after all, but steam. A powerful heat radiated from his body. Tumblety shrank back. “Don’t you worry about me, Jack. Even your esoteric skills don’t stretch this far.” Professor Abbacus pulled the bandages from his face to reveal the real reason why he had to wear them. The he pushed Tumblety over to the work bench, where he nearly stumbled over himself from the force of the blow.

  “I never called myself Jack!” he muttered as he started to prepare test tubes, flasks and pipes with shaking hands. He lit a Bunsen burner and set up a stand over it. “That name came from the gutter-press!”

  “Couldn’t care less. Until you own up to what you did, history will know you as Jack the Ripper.”

  “You know my reasons,” Dr Tumblety muttered as he worked, mixing chemicals and herbs with feverish intensity. “Because I am not female, I can never become a true Alchemage. Only women possess the ultimate power to create and heal. Men can mimic with their potions and instruments, but can never achieve the full glory of such power. Out of fear, men keep women from such knowledge, and as a result when it comes to medical matters, we are still in the dark ages.”

  “And you figured this out on your own, did you?” growled Abbacus, clearly unimpressed by the doctor’s speech.

  The doctor glared at him, annoyed by his attitude. Clearly there was no moving the fellow. Deciding against arguing further, Tumblety got back to work.

  Despite his more comfortable position, Merrick started to have trouble breathing. His skin was ashen pale. “Whatever you’re doing, do it faster,” snarled Abbacus. “He doesn’t have long for this world!”

  “I’m working as fast as I can! One wrong move and I could mix up a deadly poison!”

  “Your life depends on preserving his.”

  Tumblety mopped sweat from his brow, crushed some valerian for pain relief into his bubbling mixture, and stood back as it hissed as though alive. “That’s it,” he gasped. “It’s done. I suggest waiting for it to cool, but-“

  The professor snatched it from the stand and glared it. “This had better work,” he growled at Tumblety. He waited for the bubbles in the mixture to subside, then took it over to the Elephant Man. Without further ado, he pinched the sick man’s nose closed and poured the entire dose down his throat. Tumblety winced at Abbacus’ indelicacy.

  John Merrick started to jerk and splutter, coughing as the hot medication filled his belly. Almost immediately he broke out into a heavy sweat, and soon the liquid was pouring from him. For some reason it didn’t soak into the bedsheets, but pooled around him until the bed could no longer hold it. Then both Tumblety and Abbacus realized the fluid wasn’t sweat after all, but liquefied Flesh. The Elephant Man was dissolving before their eyes!

  “That’s not supposed to happen!” cried the doctor. He turned to run – and suddenly there was a hand like a steel vice around his throat, slamming him into a wall so hard flasks and bottles shook and fell to the floor.

  “You’ve killed him!” shouted Abbacus.

  Merrick’s skin, muscles and bones dissolved into a gigantic puddle on the floor. Abbacus squeezed Tumblety’s neck in fury. The doctor struggled to breathe. He could see stars flashing and his entire sordid life flashing in front of his eyes.

  “Let him go, Professor!” called a soft voice that almost didn’t make it through Abbacus’ rage. Still holding Tumblety, the Professor spun around.

  A shape was rising from the puddle that had once been John Merrick and slowly forming into the shape of a man. It had eyes and a mouth, and was slowly taking on the mutated appearance of the Elephant Man. Soon, both Abbacus, and the gasping Tumblety, found themselves staring at John Merrick. He appeared as he had before, deformed with bony growths protruding from his head and body, but somehow stronger, more powerful. “I said, let him go, Professor. You’re killing him.”

  Abbacus dropped Tumblety to the floor, and he drew in great relieved gasps of air. “How the hell did you do that, Merrick?” he growled.

  “Tumblety’s medicine worked. It has halted my disease in its tracks. I won’t get any better, but I won’t get any worse, either. It has, however, given me the ability to alter my form, as you saw. I believe, with some practice, I can control the changes.” He focused on his arm, and it began to morph into a long octopus tentacle. “Yes … I think I can learn to use this quite satisfactorily.”

  Abbacus turned to Dr Tumblety, who was still trying to get his breath back. “Hear that, Jack? You get to live.”

  Madam Zazuma

  “The main show doesn’t start for another three quarters of an hour.” Edward paused on the midway and examined the small slip of paper he’d been given by the painted gypsy woman in the ticket box. “Why don’t we have a look around?”

  Before I could answer, he had grabbed me by an arm and hurried me away. I had to run to keep up with his long strides, and was gasping with exertion by the time we reached the first of the small, brightly-coloured tents clustered around the big top. I had only myself to blame. I had asked my maids to lace my corset as tightly as possible. Like every other young woman my age, I wanted a tiny waist.

  There were a lot of people clustered outside this particular tent. A burly, bearded man in a tattered velvet frock coat stood on a box outside. “Roll up, roll up – be the first to see the Wild Woman! Today only, because she can only handle so much excitement! She was discovered in the jungles of Borneo, devouring the local cattle! She must be kept caged lest she attack and eat one of our elephants!” He paused for dramatic effect. “If she is not the most hideous creature you have ever seen, I will personally refund half of your entrance fee! Only tuppence, good folk, only tuppence to look upon the Wild Woman of Borneo!”

  “Oh, can we?” I begged Edward.

&n
bsp; “Elizabeth! She’s probably no more than a very hairy Billingsgate fishwife!”

  “Surely not. Please Edward?” I gave him my most pleading look. “I’ve never been to a sideshow before.”

  “Oh Alright.” Edward fished around inside his jacket and brought out a handful of pennies. “Two tickets,” he told the spruiker. “For my fiancé and myself.”

  The shabby man beamed. “Thank you me fine sir!” The coins disappeared so fast I thought they’d been magicked. “In you go, my fine friends, and beware! She’s hungry today, and in a lively mood to boot!” He held open a tent-flap.

  Edward led me into close, musky-smelling darkness. From the central point of the tent a small lantern hung, illuminating a large metal cage directly beneath. A big hairy shape hulked within. Ominous growls were emanating from it. I paused, my heart fluttering. A few people stood against the tent walls, well away from the cage, laughing nervously. “You can’t honestly be afraid of that!” Edward scoffed.

  “No, no – corset’s too tight!” I squeaked. Trying desperately to be brave, I followed Edward as he marched right up to the cage.

  “You’re not so scary, are you?” Edward declared as he stopped in front of the beast. “You’re just a big hairy female! Or perhaps a monkey?”

  Suddenly, the wild woman launched to her feet, towering over Edward a good foot and a half, and twice as wide. She was covered with glossy brown fur from head to toe. Her eyes blazed with rage, and her enormous mouth was lined with razor-sharp teeth. Clawed paws as big as dinner plates gripped the bars and rattled them as the monster roared her displeasure. Spittle showered Edward as he yelped and jumped back in fear. Frightened as I was, I couldn’t help but giggle. Quickly I covered my mouth. The others in the tent weren’t so discreet. They guffawed with laughter.

  “What did I tell you?” Edward declared. “A gorilla!”

  “She doesn’t look like a gorilla.”

  “What would you know about gorillas, Elizabeth?” Edward snapped as he hauled me out of the tent. Even the spruiker was having a good laugh at his expense.

  “I’ve seen gorillas in the zoo!” I protested. “They look nothing like that wild woman! Their heads are pointy, they have hardly any necks, and their back legs are shorter!”

  “Oh Elizabeth, you really have no idea what you’re talking about, do you? You’ll say anything to convince yourself that thing wasn’t a fake. But it was, take it from me. I can smell frauds a mile away.”

  I felt like arguing, but knew it would do me no good. Edward always had to have to last word, and I didn’t want to end up wearing the back of his hand.

  Edward led me across the midway. A man, quite obviously English but dressed in a mahout’s garb, led an elephant past. There was something weird about it. It took me a few seconds to realise. I pulled Edward back. “Look!” I pointed. “The elephant has two trunks!”

  “Nonsense, Elizabeth – elephants have only one trunk.”

  “But-" I tried to get him to turn, but the strange beast was lumbering away, and all I could see was its enormous rump. I sighed and wished – not for the first time I might add – that I wasn’t marrying this pigheaded man.

  Edward stopped near another tent and checked his pocket watch. “Still half an hour to go,” he muttered impatiently.

  The tent we stood beside looked like it had been made from black silk. It was covered with moons and stars. The garishly painted sign read;

  MADAM ZAZUMA – GYPSY PROPHETESS

  FORTUNES TOLD!

  Palms – 1d

  Crystal ball – 3d

  Cards – 6d

  “Let’s get our fortunes read!” I exclaimed.

  “Oh please! Fortune-tellers are as fake as Wild Women of Borneo!”

  “It would kill some time until the main show.” I gave him that smile again.

  He sighed. “Oh, alright. I suppose it couldn’t do any harm.”

  This time, I led Edward into the tent. It was as dimly lit as the wild woman’s, but smelled much more pleasant, of fresh citrus fruits. The gypsy woman sat at a small round table in the middle of the room, illuminated by various candles in lanterns, dangling from the ceiling. A cloth adorned with mystical symbols covered the table. The gypsy wore a matching robe with billowy sleeves. Bangles clattered around her wrists as she lifted her hands in welcome. “Come in, come in!” she called in a rich, deep voice. “Cross the gypsy’s palm with silver, and have your fortunes told. Now, what will it be? A palm reading? The ball? Or the cards, maybe? Be warned – the cards take a few minutes, but are by far the most precise!”

  “Palm,” said Edward immediately.

  I wanted the cards, but was concerned about the time. “Ball,” I answered.

  “Good, good. Four pence, if you will. A gypsy still needs to know where her next meal is coming from!” She cackled at her witticism, and I laughed too, caught by her infectious mood. Edward simply grunted as he placed two tuppences in the gypsy’s palm. She closed her long, thin fingers around them. “Sit down, sit down, and we’ll begin.” With her other hand, she gestured to two stools in front of her table.

  We sat, and she opened the hand with the money in it. Or rather, the hand that used to have money in it. The tuppences were gone. “Magic!” I gasped before I could stop myself.

  Edward snorted. “Nonsense, Elizabeth! Simple sleight of hand. Remind me to never let you deal with any gypsies when we move to our country estate! You’d probably let them rob us blind!”

  I reddened, but said no more, instead focusing on Madam Zazuma. I didn’t want to move to the country. But after the wedding, I wouldn’t have much choice.

  Madam Zazuma looked younger than I’d first thought, with fair, smooth skin and lots of frizzy black hair barely held in check by a striped scarf. Huge gold hoops dangled from her ears. Her eyes, cheeks and lips were heavily made up. Her lashes were so long they had to be fake, but her blue eyes seemed to bore right through me. I found her impressive despite her over the top appearance, and felt like I was in the presence of an awesome power. “Show me your hand, Edward,” she requested softly.

  Grudgingly, Edward removed a glove and extended his palm. His broad, flat hands betrayed his working-class roots, something he tried to hide at all costs.

  Madam Zazuma examined the palm closely. “You are definitely an unbeliever.”

  “Truly insightful,” Edward remarked.

  “Shhh,” I urged. “Please don’t spoil the mood!”

  “Superstitious claptrap,” Edward muttered under his breath.

  “You are a very ambitious soul, truly believing that everything you desire is within your grasp. You have worked hard to get where you are, as manager of the Gordon Steamworks, and once you have wed Elizabeth Montrose here, you will have, through her title, entry into high society.”

  I drew in a shocked gasp. How on Earth could the gypsy know all this? She had to have special powers! I looked at Edward, but his heavy-set face was unreadable. “But all is not as it seems, Edward Gordon. Someone you crushed on the way up will soon be coming to exact his revenge.”

  Edward snatched his hand back as though the gypsy’s touch had become poison. “I didn’t come here to be insulted!” He leapt to his feet. “Come on Elizabeth – we’ve wasted enough time here with this charlatan.”

  “But – but I want my fortune told too!”

  “I’ll be waiting outside then. Be quick.” Edward stomped out.

  Madam Zazuma sighed. “I do not wish to meddle in your personal affairs, Elizabeth, but it would be best if you did not marry that man.”

  “I have no choice, Madam … Zazuma. The match was organized by my mother. Our family may have an impressive lineage, but our branch has fallen on desperately hard times. A union with Edward Gordon is the only thing that will keep us from ending up on the streets – or worse, in the poorhouse!”

  “There is other wealth besides money.” Madam Zazuma reached down beside her and brought up a large round glass ball. “As I will show you. B
ear with me while I Look.” She waved her hands extravagantly across the ball’s smooth surface. I gasped as mist started to swirl around inside. “Ahh yes. You may think you are but a pawn in your mother’s plans, but you have a mind of your own. You will extricate yourself from your unwanted marriage.”

  “But …” I couldn’t continue. Madam Zazuma was right. Deep down, I didn’t want to marry Edward. I hated him! He was only nice to me when it suited him! Like this circus visit! He wanted to see the show himself – the only reason why he’d brought me along. “No, I have to marry him. Creditors visit my mother every day, wanting back all the money my late father gambled away.”

  “I can only tell you what my eyes have Seen,” Madam Zazuma crooned. “Beware of Edward. He is not what he seems. He will hurt you if you let him.”

  I glanced towards the tent flaps, wondering if he could hear. “I … I’d better be going.” My awe had turned to fear, and I had to get out of the suddenly stifling little tent. Edward was waiting outside, tapping his foot impatiently. He was looking towards the big top, where a line had collected to enter.

  “You certainly took your time in there,” he grumbled. “Come on – the show is about to start.” He grabbed my arm before I could catch my breath and hurried me towards the big tent. A couple of carnie folk in bright costumes were checking tickets at the tent flaps and guiding people inside. We joined the end of the line. The big top appeared to have been erected on top of a large metal platform which vibrated softly beneath our feet, almost as though alive. Edward marvelled at the construction and wondered how it had been put together. I couldn’t care less, too worried about what Madam Zazuma’s prophecy. Normally I found his lack of concern about me annoying, but now I welcomed it. I had no wish to explain.