Thisll come in handy later, Adrian quipped as he caught an All-American rubber.
Better let me keep track of it, Vanessa said with a wink, plucking the patriotic prophylactic from his hand and sliding it into her cleavage.
Bringing up the Procession was the Paranormal Threat Unit, led by Captain Horn, who rode atop a police wagon pulled by a brawny centaur in PTU riot gear. Marching on foot alongside the wagon was his second-in-command, Lieutenant Viva, her long, copper-penny tresses tucked up under her helmet.
At first I thought they were merely participants in the parade until a drunken spectator, inflamed by lust and stupidity, clambered onto the Duivel Street float. Captain Horn pointed his right hand at the rowdy and an ectoplasmic cocoon instantly formed about the inebriated man, binding his arms to his side. Lieutenant Viva and another PTU officer quickly hurried forward and grabbed the subdued unruly, who now resembled a giant wad of cotton candy, and quickly tossed him in the back of the paddy wagon.
Now that the Procession had finally passed by, the crowds on either side of the street moved to fill the empty void, scavenging the gutters for missed throws and other treasures before experiencing the games of chance, carnival rides, and souvenir booths that lined the cross streets. Many of the local restaurants and pubs set up temporary stalls on the sidewalks as well, to take advantage of the festival-goers.
Blarneys booth, easily identifiable by its bright green awning, was already doing a brisk business selling corned beef sandwiches and baked potatoes to those eager to cash in their doubloons for free beer. I spotted Lafo, dressed in painstakingly accurate Colonial Era dress, right down to the powdered wig, manning a stall that flew the familiar two-headed calf logo.
Jubilation to you and yours, Serenity! the restaurateur said jovially, handing Hexe an enormous plastic novelty glass shaped like a revolutionary musket. What can I get you and your friends?
What do you think I should try? Vanessa whispered, eyeing the menu board warily.
This is probably the closest youre going to get to typical carnival food. Most of the other vendors are far more, uh, ethnic than this, I explained, pointing to another booth across the street advertising python kabobs and caramel apples dipped in deep-fried mealworms.
Vanessa and Adrian quickly agreed that I had a point, and decided to go with the roasted goat tamale and chili-cheese funnel cake, which they washed down with souvenir muskets of prickly pear margaritas.
Food in hand, we wandered deeper and deeper into Golgotham, past booths selling souvenir tricorn hats and red-white-and-blue papier-mâché skulls on sticks, leprechauns competing in clogging contests, and the occasional fire-eater. I decided not to drink anything harder than orchid cream soda, just in case a sober head might be needed, since Nessie and Adrian seemed determined to sample every wine, mead, and ale stall they saw. All in the name of epicurean curiosity, of course, not because theyre lushesor so they kept reassuring me.
The plaza that surrounds the Fly Market was temporarily transformed into a carnival midway, where Kymeran youngsters with Technicolor hair stood in line with their parents to ride the Ferris wheel, and the Flying Bobs. I watched in amusement as a pair of bleating satyr kids clattered excitedly up the metal steps of the Tilt-A-Whirl, while centaur foals rode a carousel outfitted with gaily colored moving stalls instead of merry-go-round horses.
At the far end was a large, raised wooden platform festooned in tricolor bunting, atop which could be seen the members of the GoBOO as well as Lady Syra and Mayor Lash. The assembled dignitaries were reviewing a collection of jars and bottles arrayed atop a long table, while down on the ground level, a nervous group of competing witches and warlocks watched their every movement, eager to find out who would claim the blue ribbon for best potion of the year.
While most of the booths sold concessions and souvenirs, there were more than a few manned by local merchants eager to advertise their businesses to potential customers. One such booth belonged to Dr. Mao, whose red awning boasted gold and black tigers and signage in Mandarin, Kymeran, and English. Behind the counter stood the proprietor himself, dressed in a traditional Chinese tunic and cap. His bushy gray eyebrow, which stretched across his forehead without a break, marked him as a shape-shifter, as did the extra-long ring fingers on either hand.
Jubilation to you, Serenity, the old were-tiger said, bowing slightly.
Jubilation to you and your family as well, my friend, Hexe replied. I see youre putting my former lodger to good use. He pointed to Lukas, who was at the back of the stall, grinding roots and herbs with a mortar and pestle alongside Dr. Maos only child, Meikei.
Yes, if you call finding excuses to paw my daughter in public working, Dr. Mao said acerbically.
Daddy! Meikei protested. Lukas quickly let go of her hand, his ears suddenly bright pink.
Dont daddy me! Mao said, wagging a long fingernail in her direction. Dont forget Im the boss of both of you! Now grind up some more fossilized dragon bonewere almost out!
As I chuckled at Lukas expense, I felt Hexe suddenly grab my arm. I looked up to see Boss Marz walking through the crowd in our direction, flanked on either side by a pair of his croggies. His familiar, Bonzo, rode on his left shoulder, chattering excitedly.
Get out of here, Lukas, Dr. Mao said in a quiet yet urgent voice. I dont want him to see you.
But, Master Mao! The youth protested, his eyes flashing like an angry cougars.
You heard mego home! Maos drooping mustache suddenly became bristling whiskers as dark stripes swam to the surface of his skin. Meikei and I can handle the booth.
The young were-cat bowed his head to his master and quickly slipped away, disappearing into the bustling street without a trace.
I give Lukas a hard time, Mao said as he watched his apprentice leave, but he is a good boy and Ill be skinned if Marz gets his hands on him again.
Speaking of the Maladanti, I stole another look in Boss Marzs direction and saw him stop at a Hit the Cats booth operated by a cyclops in a Knicks T-shirt. Although the carnie smiled as he handed the crime lord an envelope, it was clear from the glint in his solitary eye that he was nervous.
As Marz reached out to take the tribute, Bonzo screeched and ran down the length of his masters arm and snatched up not only the payment, but a small plush teddy bear as well, before scampering back to his perch. Marz pocketed the money while Bonzo plucked the eyes off the toy before tearing its head off and gutting it of its stuffing. Chuckling, Boss Marz turned to stare directly at us.
Hexe stood his ground and looked at Marz and his men defiantly, his right hand at the ready, refusing to shrink from view or dodge detection. There was a gleam in his golden eyes, as if some hidden fire was being stoked deep within him, and for a heartbeat it was as if I was staring at Lord Bexe, the Last Witch King of Arum.
One of Marzs croggies started to raise his left hand, only to have his boss swat him like a parent correcting a child acting out at the supermarket. The Maladanti goon quickly stepped down, placing his left hand in the small of his back. The trio then turned away and proceeded down a nearby side street.
That was a close one, I sighed in relief.
Dont let him ruin the Jubilee for you, Hexe said, slipping his arm about my waist. Marz isnt going to do anything that will bring the PTU down on himnot while he still has tribute to collect.
I smiled and nodded in agreement, but seeing Boss Marz wandering about the festival was like splashing about at the beach, only to have a shark brush your leg with its tail. Glimpsing the hesitation in my eyes, Hexe dragged me over to a nearby booth, where he spent the next fifteen minutes and twenty dollars throwing rubber rings at upright soda bottles in order to win a plush toy white gorilla wearing a plaid tam-o-shanter.
You know how some women get excited over their men giving them jewelry? Well, in my case I get the exact same way when someone wins stuffed toys for me at carnivals. Needless to say, much kissing and squeezing followed.
As late afternoon turned into dusk, the Jubilee began to undergo a gradual sea change as Golgothams darker denizens gradually joined in the celebration. Vanessa, Adrian, Hexe, and I were sitting in a beer garden when a group of trolls ambled past, muttering among themselves in their thick, unintelligible language, lashing their heavy, ropelike tails as they sniffed the air with big, bumpy noses the size of knockwursts.
Gracious! Look at the time! Adrian said, pretending to look at a wrist watch. Nessie and I must be getting back home! I need to be ready for work in the morning, you know.
Vanessa frowned. I thought you said you had arranged with the head of your department to get tomorrow off
Yeah, but he changed his mind, Adrian said quickly as he helped his wife up from the table. Remember, I told you I got a text from him this afternoon?
Huh? Vanessas frown deepened for a second; then her gaze fell on the gaggle of goblins, their bare, paddlelike feet slapping against the cobblestones like wet laundry. Oh, yeah! Thats right! she said, gathering up her purse. I was having such a good time I totally forgot!
As a pride of sphinx moved through the street fair like lions on their way to a watering hole, Adrian and Vanessa hurried in the opposite direction, eager to return to the humdrum hazards of lower Manhattan.
Well, that wasnt awkward at all, was it? I sighed.
Nessie and Adrian stayed a lot longer than I gave them credit for, Hexe said as he sipped his musket of barley wine. Jubilee can be overwhelming even for Golgothamitesespecially after dark. And it was good to see you enjoying yourself with your friends, especially after youve pushed yourself so hard at work. Its time you relaxed, kicked back, and had some fun.
Sitting downwind from Ghastlys food stall is making me queasy, I said, pointing in the direction of the gaunt, bat-nosed ghouls lined up in front of the booth belonging to Golgothams worst cook. Given the clientele, I really didnt want to know what was listed on the menu board.
As we wandered along Perdition Street, I realized what Hexe said about the Jubilee after dark was rightthe feel of the festival had definitely changed with the setting of the sun. All the familieshuman and otherwisehad disappeared, surrendering the field to the more dedicated revelers and those citizens of Golgotham who normally shunned the suns rays.
As the moon rose, a group of nymphs cast aside their flimsy chitons and began to run naked through the streets hand in hand, weaving in and out of the crowds like living daisy chains, giggling like mischievous schoolgirls. An amorous frat boy made a grab for one of them, only to have her slip free of his arms in the form of a cloud, her laughter tinkling like a silver bell.
It was not long before the nymphs were joined by maenads, who spun about, crying out in ecstasy, wineskins in one hand and drawn knives in the other, their eyes blazing like funeral pyres. A herd of satyrs quickly fell in among them, adding wild piping and the crashing of cymbals to the merrymaking. Suddenly one of the passing nymphs grabbed my hand and yanked me into the street, spinning me around and around like a child playing with a top. Her laughter was as clear as an Attic sky and sweet as honey fresh from the comb, and for a heartbeat I understood how handsome young shepherds could abandon their flocks in mad pursuit of such impossible, primal beauty.
After two or three spins, the nymph let go of me and hurried after her sisters as they continued to wind their way through the festival-goers. I staggered backward, shaking my head to try to clear the dizziness from it, then turned to where Hexe had been standing a moment before, only to find him gone.
I looked around, at first thinking he must have gone to one of the concession booths to freshen his drink, but there was still no sign of him. However, there was an unpleasant smell in the air, one that seemed familiar, yet which I could not immediately place. Just as I was beginning to get worried, I caught a glimpse of purple hair half a block away, headed in the direction of the riverfront. I hurried after him, shouting his name, but his back was to me and my voice was drowned out by the noise of the carnival. I pulled out my cell phone to try to call him, only to find my battery drained.
Just as I was closing in, he suddenly ducked into one of the nameless alleyways that thread their way through the neighborhood. Upon following him, I was surprised to find Hexe standing in the middle of the narrow passageway with his back to me, his limbs twitching and jerking as if afflicted with Saint Vitus dance.
Hey! I shouted, more exasperated than angry. Whats the big idea ditching me back there?
Upon hearing my voice, the thing I had mistaken for Hexe turned to face me. Although it possessed the exact physical build, with the same color hair, worn in the exact same style, and was dressed in identical clothing as Hexe, the face was a blank oval, save for a pair of gaping, empty holes where the eyes should be.
As I backed away from the decoy, I caught the distinct smell of scorched metal, as if someone had left a saucepan on the burner for too long. I turned to see Boss Marz looming behind me, blocking my escape.
Foolish little nump. He grinned. Dont you know better than to believe anything you see on Jubilee Night?
Chapter 7
The next time I opened my eyes I was relieved to find myself looking across a table into the real Hexes face, not that of the hideous simulacrum Marz had conjured forth to lure me away from the crowds. That relief was short lived as I realized I was tied to a chair and Hexes arms were pinned down atop the table by what looked like croquet hoops fitted into holes drilled into its surface. The fingers of both his hands were kept splayed and rigid in metal splints, therefore preventing him from working magic.