Circus of the Damned   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

Bones and some heavy, clearliquid poured out of his skin. Shapes strained and ripped through his skin. Muscles writhed like snakes. Heavy, wet sounds came as bone shifted in and out of flesh. It was as if the wolf's shape was punching its way out of the man's body. Fur flowed fast and faster, the color of dark honey. The fur hid some of the changes, and I was glad.

Something between a howl and a scream tore from his throat. Finally, there was that same manwolf form as the night we fought the giant cobra. The wolfman threw his muzzle skyward and howled. The sound raised the hairs on my body.

A second howl echoed from the other side. I whirled, and there was a second wolfman form, but this one was as black as pitch. Rashida?

The audience applauded wildly, stamping and shouting.

The werewolves crept back to the dais. They crouched at the bottom, one on each side.

"I have nothing so showy to offer you." The lights were back on Oliver. "The snake is my creature." The lamia twined around him, hissing loud enough to carry to the audience. She flicked a forked tongue to lick his white-coated ear.

He motioned to the foot of the dais. Two black-cloaked figures stood on either side, hoods hiding their faces. "These are my creatures, but let us keep them for a surprise." He looked across at us. "Let it begin."

The lights went out again. I fought the urge to reach for Jean-Claude in the thick dark. "What's happening?"

"The battle begins," he said.

"How?"

"We have not planned the rest of the evening, Anita. It will be like every battle, chaotic, violent, bloody."

The lights came up gradually until the tent was bathed in a dim glow, like dusk or twilight. "It begins," Jean-Claude whispered.

The lamia flowed down the steps, and each side ran for the other. It wasn't a battle. It was a free-for-all, more like a bar brawl than a war.

The cloaked things ran forward. I had a glimpse of something vaguely snakelike but not. A spatter of machine-gun fire and the thing staggered back. Edward.

I started down the steps, gun in hand. Jean-Claude never moved. "Aren't you coming down?"

"The real battle will happen up here, ma petite . Do what you can, but in the end it will come down to Oliver's power and mine."

"He's a million years old. You can't beat him."

"I know."

We stared at each other for a moment. "I'm sorry," I said.

"So am I, ma petite , Anita, so am I."

I ran down the steps to join the fight. The snake-thing had collapsed, bisected by the machine-gun fire.