Agent Fox Mulder (i_want_2) wrote in multi_fiction, @ 2008-04-20 02:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | au, het, magnificent 7, rated: explicit, slash |
Fic: Freak Show 1/2 Magnificent Seven
Title: Freak Show
Author: Lopaka Tanu (lopaka_tanu@yahoo.com)
Disclaimer: I do not own Magnificent Seven.
Characters: Ensemble
Words: 14,285
Prompt: Supernatural (Powers)
Fandom: Magnificent Seven
Pairing: JD/Vin - Nathan/Rain
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Language, Het (trans gender), Gender Bender, Slash, Religious Themes.
Summary: Welcome to Mr. Travis' Magnificent Traveling Carnival of Oddities.
Author's Note: Circa 1930s, Magnificent Oddities AU - Open.
______________________________________
Soft fingers traced the cards, shuffling their number with long ease. A pattern emerged on their backs as nine were laid down on the table. Behind his dark green glasses, Ezra's eyes closed as he set the deck aside. Quickly, his hand shot to the upper right hand corner and turned one over. "Reversed Lovers, emotional ties will be severed, a loss of great comfort."
Snorting, Orin Travis glared at the conman over the table. "Cut the show boating bullshit."
"As you wish." Flipping the next card over, Ezra continued with his eyes closed. "Reversed Seven of Swords. There is a thief among your flock seeking to cause you great harm. You know them, but refuse to deal with it." He flipped the next card over. "Two of Pentacles. You are wise in letting things take their course."
"Of course I am." Feeling smug, he sat back in his chair. The sudden movement kicked up dust from the drop cloth covering its back.
"Not for the reasons you believe. The thief will cause us great misfortune and we will be forced down a new road. One we would never have taken before." He flipped the next card. His solid black eyes blinked, seeing things no one else could. "Courage Reversed. A cowardly act, he let his fears control him. Mr. Larabee will finally come in to play, Judge."
Travis raised the flask to his lips, but kept his eyes on Ezra. The light filtering through the seams of the dark tent was barely enough to let him see the tarot reader.
Another two cards were flipped. "Reversed High Priestess and Five of Wands. Tell him to stay, he will be facing a new peril soon, one he is ill equipped to deal with alone. Make sure he stays, he will be key to surviving the road ahead." Ezra flipped another card, then froze. "Page of Pentacles, an introverted person of great value. Look for tanner of skin and beguiling eyes. Death follows this one."
As if to prove his words, Travis flipped the next card in the row. "Death."
"Great changes in store for him or her. It will not wish to come, but you must give it no choice." With a shuddering breath, he flipped the last card. "Page of Swords, dark haired, piercing eyes. Send the boy, he will be taken and used well." A slow smirk slipped over his features. "Some times the best way to take down a lion is to use a lamb."
"Enough!" Rising from his chair, Travis leaned heavily on his cane. His dark eyes glittered in the bouncing light. "Release your hold, Ezra, I command you."
For a minute, Ezra raised his eyebrows, pausing to consider the order. Then, with a wave of his hands over the cards, light seemed to filter through the tent once more. A gust of wind shook it, causing the dozens of canaries in their cages to cry out.
Travis watched the younger man stand up from his own chair. A red soaked silk handkerchief was tenderly folded over. He knew the price, yet it could not be avoided. He meant to say something, but Ezra refused to look at him. Instead, he turned and walked out of the tent.
Gently stroking the silk, Ezra raised a shaking hand to wipe away his tears.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pulling the worn rag from his back pocket, Chris leaned back against the picnic table. In his other hand, he held a bottle of clear liquid. The label left no doubt to any one watching him that he was well on his way to being drunk again. He waved at a fly trying to land on his face as his best friend stopped next to him. "What say you, Buck?"
"Not a lot, Chris. I've been out scouting the locals, checking to see if the banners we put up last week were still there." He glanced down at Chris' drink and but kept his mouth shut. So long as the Ferris Wheel got put up, Travis wouldn't say anything about it either. "For the most part, they are still there. Some got a few profanities written on them, probably kids. I think we might make a good haul this time."
"Looks like." Chris nodded off towards the edge of the camp grounds to the large crowd gathered there. "We got a preacher among their number, but he ain't come a callin."
"Cooch show?" Buck tried to keep the hope from his voice. Mrs. Wells' girls were chafing at the collar to be free to ply their trade and he was more than happy to oblige.
"Travis ain't said, but I think so." Taking a sip of his drink, Chris was about to offer some to Buck before movement off to their right drew his attention. The sight of a near pale Travis made him stand up straight. Walking over, he held out his bottle to the older man.
Taking the bottle, Travis downed it and wiped his lips. "God damned spook." Despite the heat, Travis was pale as a ghost and shivering.
Grinning, Buck brushed his thumb and index fingers over his mustache. "What's the news from beyond the grave?"
"Nothing good for you." Travis looked to Chris, measuring the dilation of his pupils before handing him the bottle. "Ensure the rides are put up properly. Everything except the cooch show. Tell the girls to report to the Dance Hall if they expect to eat tomorrow." With a final nod to both men, Travis limped his way towards his trailer across the lot. He wasn't about to tell them a thing of what went on in the tent.
Watching him go, Buck leaned in to Chris. "You don't suppose there's something real about what that shyster peddles, do ya?"
"That's not for us to know. They've done made that clear a whole bunch of times." Eying his drink, Chris no longer felt like finishing it. He put the lid back on the bottle and stuffed it down the back of his pants. "Let's go, I want to get this done before the day gets too hot."
"'s already too hot." Knowing it was no good, Buck followed along. They still had five more rides and two large tents to put up. Since the cooch tent wasn't going, there was one less. But that would have been one he would gladly have helped on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yanking the tops off fox tales, JD followed along side the other six boys that made up his age group. He wasn't the oldest, but he felt it. The fact he didn't know his real birthday did go very far with the adults either. In his hand not busy pulling weeds apart, he held a large box. Condensation slid off the sides as the ice blocks inside froze it.
They had been sent on in to town for supplies, which was why the four girls were behind him pulling two wagons. He didn't have to look to know Casey was once again staring at him. She always made sure she was slower than him so she could watch. JD didn't understand what her fascination was, they were only a few tattoos and no one could see them with his clothes on.
Shifting the box to his other hand, JD groaned loudly. This set off the other ten teens, each trying to top the others. Snickers ran through them as the lone adult with them turned and scowled. It was only another half mile through the hay fields, but it felt like ten miles.
To his surprise, one of the girls came up beside him. He glanced her over; she was his age, whatever that was. Her body had developed, but she still prattled on like a seven year-old with a secret. JD couldn't remember her first name, but he was certain she was one of the Potters. Finally, he snapped. "What?"
"Wanna trade?" She gestured behind her to the cart she was supposed to be making sure didn't tip over. At the reins, Casey was watching her with trepidation. She smiled at JD. "I can carry the ice blocks, no problem. Nathan said I was getting strong enough to almost best him."
"Nathan lets any girl win." With that, he picked up his pace. There was no way in hell he was spending any more time with Casey Nitwit Wells. She had more fleas than Barnabus, Ms. Merry Belle's toy poodle.
Eventually, they came upon the final hill, and the Ferris Wheel could be seen over it. Putting on extra speed now that their goal was in sight, the teens and Raphael quickly crested the hill. JD glanced back to make sure that Casey and the Potter girl were actually doing their jobs before he sped down the hill.
He and the other boys were the always the first ones down, using the weight of their burdens to carry them faster. It was always a challenge to go fast and keep their balance, but only once in a great while did they fail. That was doubled whenever they had a hill to go over. Today, he was second down the hill despite having been last to start.
Beside him, Marco, the oldest, had made it first. Marco was Raphael's only kid. He made his displeasure about being watched over by his old man known by groaning and kicking dirt.
JD felt like telling him to keep his mouth shut every time he did. Not everyone had someone to care about them. Half the kids with the crew were parent less, being raised by their relatives. He was different, he was the only in their age group with no legal guardians. That fact mainly kept Marco and he from ever being friends.
Shouldering his ice box, JD stepped over the cattle wire to cross in to the camp grounds. He cast a smirk at the girls, who had to go around through the grate another two hundred feet further. When he was certain none of the others were going to kill themselves, he turned back to the carnival.
Most of the tents were up and all the rides were assembled. Since it was just passed noon, they were just in time. Sniffing the air, JD felt his mouth water and his belly grumble. Lugging his burden, he headed for the food trailer. Mrs. Mason, who owned the camp cook stoves, pointed inside the food trailer with her spatula before going back to turning over another hamburger.
JD felt his appetite lessen at the sight of her cooking. She always burned the food on the outside and left it pink on the inside. If it weren't for the sauce Rain cooked up, everyone would rather starve. Quickly, he pulled open the lock on the door and stuck his ice box inside the food trailer. The others would be along soon after to deposit their burdens as well. Mrs. Mason and her two girls would settle everything later, the important part was getting it in the trailer before it went bad.
Having finished his job, JD headed for the largest tent in the side show. His trunk would most likely be in there already, along with his cages. Slipping in through the side entrance, which would be guarded during the performances, he looked around. Partitions were going up, activity in the shade not stopping despite the heat.
His tiny stage, little more than a couple cargo flats tied together, was already put against one of the back drops. A line was tied to the poles on either side of his stage, the curtains with his painted on image pushed open. Behind the stage, stacked against the cloth partition, were several cages with chickens and pickle jars with critters moving inside them. Just looking at them used to turn his stomach, now, some of them made his stomach growl.
JD walked over to his cages to inspect their numbers. All fourty-five chickens were alive and well. After tonight, there would four less, and tomorrow, fried chicken would be offered for sale. Nothing went to waste, except the waste. He snickered at that thought.
Going over to his trunk, JD popped the lock. He pulled out a folded up bundle of cloth, neat bow ties holding the different pieces together. Setting it on top of the chair beside his trunk, he pulled out two swords, a railroad spike, and a small hammer. Finally, he pulled out a worn cloth and a jar of alcohol. Taking the cloth, he put a little of the alcohol on it and started to rub down the metal parts.
He was just finishing up the second sword when a shadow fell over him. Glancing up in the torchlight, JD frowned at Buck. "What do you want?"
"Can't I check on my favorite little hanger on?" Buck reached out and scruffled over JD's hair, laughing when the teen slapped at him. His little fun over, he pushed JD's outfit on to the ground and sat in the chair.
"Hey! I have to wear that tonight!" Picking up the outfit, he dusted off the dirt and straw. JD set it down beside him on the trunk before glaring at Buck again. "What do you want?"
Sighing, Buck crossed his arms. "I thought we could have a conversation, man to half-man." His smile faded as JD only seemed to get angrier. "Only thing that spreads faster than a fire in a circus are rumors, JD. Why you given Casey Wells a hard time for?"
"You've seen her." JD stared at him as if he was a complete moron. "She's always moon gazing over me. It ain't right, I told her to leave me alone, but she don't listen."
"She's got a crush on ya. Nothing wrong with that. A boy your age, sorry, young man." The murderous look made him want to crack up laughing. JD was always good for a good tease. "Someone your age should be thinking about girls. Matter of fact, you should be doing little else."
"I do think about girls." Looking away, JD shrugged. He started to finish cleaning his sword before slipping it inside its sheath. "I just don't think about Casey that way."
"Why? She's a girl, you're a boy, both about the same age. These things have a way of workin out." Buck pushed JD's shoulder, a grin spreading over his face. "She's willin, which is more than most girls her age would be. And you're no slouch, I've seen plenty of boys your age with less than half your looks."
Dead stare in place, JD leveled it at Buck. "She has a beard. I ain't kissin a girl who has more hair on her face than Marco has on his ass!" Standing up, JD spun and started putting his props back in to his trunk. He bent over to lock it again only to jump when he felt a finger run over his lower back. Glaring at Buck, he tugged the white linen shirt back in to his overalls. "I done told you, leave my tattoos alone!"
"I ain't ever seen'em all. Me and Inez are too busy wooing the wives during your performance." Buck knew he sounded like one of the children, but he was honestly miffed. Travis had paid good money to finish off the teen's body art from that aborigine and everyone was curious. "If you didn't go to such pains hiding it, people wouldn't be so curious."
"Quit thinking about my body!" Locking the trunk, JD pulled the suspenders of his overalls up on his shoulders to keep Buck from getting any other bright ideas. "In fact, quit thinking about my love life too."
"What love life? You're going to die a virgin if you keep on being such a grump." Shaking his head, Buck let the teen walk away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Swinging the cleaver down, Nathan separated the two hunks of pork ribs in half. If it weren't for the fact Rain's father had given his blessing for them to get married, he would not be caught dead working barbecue duty. As it was, the woman had his 'big and beautiful black ass' hauling whole hogs around. On top of the four pigs, a hundred ears of corn were to be roasted. A few feet away, a crock of baked beans were busy bubbling away.
God in heaven, he hated the smell of baked beans.
To add insult to injury, Rain's father, Chief Alcoholic, was stumbling his way over. Peering at the cooking set up with one eye, the old man pinched a bright red tomato in one of their crates. When it squirted him, he cursed and nearly fell over trying to wipe off his clothes.
Ignoring him, Nathan finished splitting the ribs and set them to soaking in the flavor bath. He wasn't entirely certain what Rain kept in it, but the smell was something awful. A swat on the ass with an old cloth was the only warning he got that Chief Alcoholic was behind him. Gritting his teeth, Nathan continued to ignore him.
The hog shanks were the next part. Not much to do with them except throw them over the cooking grates and wait for them to cook. When the tips started to singe, that meant they were ready to be turned over. If it wasn't a little blackened, it wasn't done. The smell of scorched flesh meant he was doing it right.
Pulling the towel from over his shoulder, Nathan wiped his scalp clear of sweat and put lids on all the vats. He grabbed the pot of hot, soapy water as it started to boil over from the cooking rack and emptied it over his chopping blocks. The soap would soak in to the crack and he would have to sand it out later, but for now, the surface was clean. He would leave the rest for Rain to clean up.
Pushing passed the mumbling drunk, Nathan headed for the center tent. If he was going to be performing tonight, he needed to know which act in order to set up. As he walked the main path through the side show, he kept an eye on the sheet panels. No cooch sheet was advertised, which meant Buck would be in a mood. Finally, he came to the next to last one, featuring him holding a dozen knives.
Relief coursed through him. It was too damned hot to be throwing white men around in a wrestling match. Unfortunately, he saw the last panel too late. It was of him, too, but he was holding up a barbell in one hand. He would be sore from hauling the hogs, now he was lifting weight. There was just no justice, even in a god forsaken carnival.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Travis was getting ready to enjoy a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade when the door to his trailer crashed open. Turning to scowl at whoever dared, he nearly dropped his glass. He wasn't ready for another confrontation with Ezra so soon. "What can I do for you, Mr. Standish?"
His own lacquered walking stick in front of him, Ezra stood in the doorway so that the light would highlight his presence. "Perhaps you can inform me why my esteemed presence is to grace the main tent of the side show, tonight."
"Easy. Tascagula is a town of over five thousand people." Calmly, Travis sat back in his chair and leisurely sipped from his glass. He used the time to calm his nerves. The other man was the only one in the entire troop who made his skin crawl. When he finished, he looked back to Ezra. "We need money and lots of it. Your talents are our best draw. I do believe you can figure the rest out."
"Sorry, Mr. Travis, but I'm taxed beyond my limits. You will have to find another to take my place." Ezra started to turn, but Travis' movements drew him back. Taking one look at the older man, he narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. "You would not dare."
"I don't threaten unless I intend to go through with it, you above all others know." When he felt his threat made, Travis closed the pouch and stuffed it back under his shirt. "Be in the center top at seven sharp."
"You, my dear Mr. Travis, are a bastard spawn propagated by Satan himself." The door slammed shut behind him.
Sinking deep in to his chair, Travis let his chin hit his chest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Grousing under a light blanket, Josiah came awake when someone kicked grass on him. Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. When he noted the placement of the sun, he started to lay back down. A hand on his shoulder stilled him. Bleerily peering up at the gray blob, he finally made out a pissed off Chris. "What can I do for you, Christopher?"
"Charlotte's torched her outfit and requires a new blouse. Take her in to town and make sure the bitch keeps it under fifty cents." With a swig from his brown bottle, Chris stomped off.
Realization dawning, Josiah sighed and gave a silent prayer for the man's family. Crawling out from under the props trailer, he tugged off his shirt and headed for the animal troughs. Once there, he threw himself in the largest one head first. He came up minus his long underwear and half awake. Floating among the bits of hay, he flicked away a few flies.
There would come a time when he would grow too old for this life. There would also come a time when man burned the Earth with the fires of hell, but that was a topic for another time. Scrubbing at himself, he continued to drift in the water until a long face planted itself next to him. Patting the horse across the muzzle, Josiah floated further down the trough.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lowering the flap on her tent, Mary touched the edges of her hair to make sure the pins and clips were holding it back. Her elaborate do had taken more than an hour in Nettie's chair. It had to hold her over for three shows and she didn't want to ruin it before she even got started.
The sound of footsteps outside her tent sent her pulse racing and she had to clutch at her dressing table to keep her balance. The bad thing about her outfit, aside from the fact it hid nothing, was how tight it needed to be. A shifting of body temperature or blood flow and she would pass out. Her mother would have called it the vapors, her sister referred to it as a case of the shys. Either way, the last thing she needed to do was keel over in front of Chris Larabee.
As she sat down in front of the vanity, her tent flap opened to reveal Chris. She gasped in mock shock, covering herself with the hem of her cape, which was draped over the chair. "Mr. Larabee! You should know better than to barge unannounced in the boudoir of a lady!"
Snorting, Chris gave her a once over before checking out the rest of her tent. When he was satisfied that Charlotte was no where to be seen, he came in. "We got a preacher out strutting about like a cock before sun up. Travis wants you to be on the look out for trouble. We know you're on the up and up, but he don't." He started to head back out when she cleared her throat. "What?"
Watching him in her mirror, she waited until he met her gaze. Smiling slowly, she raised her chin. "Thank you."
Chris gave an imperceptible nod, then he was gone.
Closing her eyes, she took a calming breath. The things he did to her with just a look, she was glad Charlotte was gone. He was never that open with the other woman around.
The warning firmly in mind, Mary grabbed a rag from her table and dipped it in the alcohol. When it was soaked, she ran it over her face to remove the makeup. A much more conservative appearance wouldn't hurt her and might smooth things over with the locals.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sulking, Casey heaved as great a sigh as her hunched over posture would allow her. The look she received from her great aunt did nothing to make her contrite. Ever since JD had come along, threats of spankings, real or not, had lost their effect. Nothing she did was good enough to attract him and she couldn't figure it out. Even Marco had noticed her form and made positive comments.
Distracted by her ward's moping, Nettie wasn't completely watching her girls. She instantly regretted this when one of the water glasses shattered. Turning the full brunt of her anger on the offending lady, she pointed her conductor's baton at her. "Ms. Lilac! Your clumsy fingers won't be touching that Armonica any time soon at this rate."
Ducking her head, Ms. Lilac quickly swept the mess up, using her silk handkerchief to dry up the water. Because she couldn't play the water glasses with gloves on, she had to be careful with the remains. "Sorry, Ma'am. I took the chorus too fast."
"Break another glass and you'll be back on jug with Guy Royal's boys." Snapping her baton down on the music stand, Nettie drew the attention of all eight women. "We are the live entertainment tonight. I've worked my fingers to the bone making you respectable, don't make me regret that. A stupid mistake like Ms. Lilac's and you ruin the tone for the entire evening. Now, again from the top! Ms. Amaryllis, take lead vocals this time."
As the music began once more started to flow, Nettie watched each girl closely. Her violin and viola players were in perfect harmony, matching perfectly with the oboe and bassoon. Completing the orchestra were the cello, flute, and Ms. Amaryllis on percussion instruments. She had wanted more matching players, but her girls only knew the ones they came with.
Scrunching her nose at the fancy music, Casey wished Guy's band were playing instead. She quite preferred the fiddle, guitar, squeeze box, and trumpets to the high pitched caterwauling. At one time, she asked JD which he liked, but all he did was get mad and told her to leave him alone. May be he was one of those people who couldn't appreciate music that her great aunt called toad death, or some such nonsense.
A high pitched squeak from Ms. Lilac's glasses made her wince. Guy Royal brought his band all the way from the Bayou just outside of New Orleans. They didn't make much money, since not so many people could appreciate the beauty of Cajun music, but Casey could dance to it all night. Unfortunately, most nights they played she was in the Odds and Ends tent as the Bearded Girl.
Tonight, she welcomed it. JD would be down the isle from her and she could watch him perform. How she loved to sit there with the others as he drew their attention and coins. She would always clap the loudest when he was through, insuring he knew how much she loved his act. He never saw her, but that didn't matter, she knew she clapped for him and that was enough.
Another glass fell over and Nettie silenced the orchestra with a slice through the air. "All right, enough of this." She pointed her baton once again at Ms. Lilac. "What's got you jumpier than a whore in church on the sabbath?"
Ms. Lilac raised a shaking hand to point over Nettie's shoulder.
Eyes narrowed, Nettie turned to see what could inspire one of her girls to fear. Standing in the entrance to the Dance Hall tent was a gathering of bible toting women. At the center, a woman decked out in white lace and yellow ribbons held her head high. Unimpressed, Nettie folded one hand and placed it on her hip. "This had better be good."
Stepping forward, the woman raised her bible. "Have you read the word?"
"I've read a few words in my time. Not a single one explains what you are doing disrupting my practice." Nettie quickly sliced her baton through the air, cutting off the tittering of her girls. "We are busy."
"Whores usually are." This time, the snickering came from the women at the tent's entrance. Feeling bold, the woman took another step forward. "Your kind are not appreciated here."
"A woman is never appreciated in a place where men rule. Perhaps if you'd read that book instead of taking it at face value, you'd learn a few truths." Dismissing the stunned women, Nettie turned back to her girls. "From the second measure, 'Little Brown Jug'!" As the girls quickly switched over from classical to bar room carol, the bible toters stood gaping. "One, two, three, begin!"
Giggling like mad, Casey watched most of the women begin to tap their feet.
Only the self appointed leader remained unaffected and that didn't last long. Face brilliant red, she stamped her foot then stormed her way through the throng.
"Casey! Lyrics." As her niece sat up and started to singing, Nettie grew more emphatic in her gestures, signaling she wanted the women to play louder.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nathan wasn't quite sure what the commotion was, but when half the camp busted out in to singing, he knew it was heading for trouble. It was way too early for it to be this loud unless someone was deliberately raising cain. He knew well enough when to hide himself in times like this. Heading back to the Mason's trailer, he glanced about for Rain. She and her father were the only other people of color in the entire troop and he didn't need any of them getting involved.
Thankfully, he found her tending her father and the barbecue. Coming around the back of the trailer, he made sure the shotgun they kept under the counter was loaded just in case. The machete kept in the apple barrel behind the caramel dip was still there. Finally, he grabbed the meat cleaver off the chopping block and made a show of cleaning the blade.
Slowly, as the words from the song faded, the men drifted back to their work.
Nathan watched as four of the Potters went running, chasing one another. Not a one of them would be ever over five feet tall. He'd seen their act only once, but knew it wasn't much to be impressed with. The most talented one could balance on one hand while spinning a plate with each foot and sip coffee. Not much more a dwarf could do.
A soft hand on his arm drew his attention to Rain. Feeling all trepidation flow from her in to him, he looked down upon her with warm eyes. "Yes?"
"My father is unwell." She didn't have to say the source, they both knew. "Please, ease his burden a little."
His peace evaporated, he pulled his arm from her grasp. He didn't want to waste his time or strength on the old wastrel. More often than not, he drank away what little profit the three of them saw. It would serve the old man right to sit there and suffer through another hangover. But he wasn't that kind of person.
With a sigh, Nathan cracked his fingers. Taking the two steps that separated, he placed his hand over Chief Alcoholic's forehead and squeezed his temples. Closing his eyes, he took a calming breath. The slow drain on his strength left him breathless as he released the now alert old man.
Turning away, he slipped passed Rain and her gratitude. He needed time to recover and doing that around her would only end up with him saying things he would regret. She was far too attached to that sack of flesh and drink for him to ever open up to her. No matter how much he longed to, it couldn't be so long as her father lived.
Stumbling through the tents towards the sleeping quarters, he tripped over a tent peg. Nathan was about to go down, but a strong set of hands held him fast. He wanted to grouse at the man, but he was too weak. Instead, he looked up gratefully to his old friend.
Josiah placed a hand upon Nathan's shoulder when he was back on his feet. "How are you this morning, brother?"
"Old and tired." Walking along side Josiah at a slower pace, Nathan allowed himself to lower his guard. With none other could he do that, knowing it would be a mistake. He was under no illusion that he was a black man in their world. "That aged bastard doesn't deserve my charity."
"You do the work you were put here for, we all do. No matter how hard the path, the steady hand guides us." Smirking, Josiah raised his head to look over the tents. Birds were gathered in the distance and he could see black among their numbers. "Our old friends watch us today, there will be trouble soon."
"Always is." Having reached the trailers, Nathan drew aside the divider and stepped in to his small patch. The low hanging tarps kept out the sun and rain, but little else. Strung up between two large poles, his hammock swayed to and fro. With Josiah's assistance, he lowered himself in the strung bed.
"Rest now, we'll be busy in a few hours." A final look to Nathan, Josiah pulled the dividers shut and left him to sleep. As he turned around, he came upon a large black raven. It sat there watching him for a minute before fluttering to land on top of a nearby tent. Narrowing his eyes, he walked away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His best red suit on, glasses in place, Ezra fingered his pearl cufflinks. It wasn't much of a fashion statement, having long since gone the way of all Parisian imports. That wasn't important, though, appearing to be beyond the touch of his mortal spectators, was.
In the mirror, nothing stared back at him.
Making more minute adjustments to his collar and silk tie, he tugged it a little to the right. Despite not having a new suit in five years, he would be damned before he was caught dead in less than his best for these brainless peasants. That would be just pleasant, having to explain to his mother during her next visit how he had been lax. As if she needed anything else to find fault with.
His red leather gloves in place, he rose from his chair. With a little dread for his shoes, he opened the door to his trailer and stepped out in to the evening light. The earlier ruckus had raised dirt and dust. To combat this, soaking wet straw had been scattered over the paths between tents. It didn't make much mud, but what was there would be just terrible for his calf leather soles.
When the winds picked up, he brought a perfumed handkerchief to his nose to block out the smells of burnt wood and cooking food. The very essence of it seemed to linger in his nostrils and he inhaled deeply to overcome it. When it refused to be budged, he gave up and picked up his pace. His tent was the first in the row of side shows.
Having timed it right, he would have ten minutes to prepare before they let the first group in. At a quarter a person, his was by far the most expensive single act. The main marquee, the freaks of human nature, cost a mere five cents more. If he didn't draw in such a crowd, he knew Orin would have long ago curtailed him.
As he knew, there was already a long line in front of his tent, despite the time. He glanced them over for a minute, taking in their varied, yet similar appearances. The dust bowl was just starting in this area and he knew it would get a lot worse soon. Ezra lowered his glasses to sweep over the crowd, and he was surprised. Of the thirty-five people, only one would live to see the coming war.
Pushing up his glasses, he continued in to his tent.
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Chris never understood the appeal. Standing off to the side of the stage, it was his turn to play body guard to their plum act. Ezra was a pretentious fuck with a greedy streak a mile wide. Nothing he told these people would ever make their lives better and they got nothing from such a large sum. Watching the first group of twenty file in to the tent, his lips twitched for a cigarette. He quickly tamped that down. Never again, never!
Gasps erupted among the crowd.
Twisting quickly, Chris caught Ezra removing his glasses. The black eyes, it scared the hell out of anyone the first fifty times they saw it. Turning his back on them, he felt Ezra's gaze fall on him. He internally counted to twenty, feeling them shift off him and back on to the crowd.
More gasps and stirrings as the crowd could physically sense his gaze. Ezra was a demon in a man's body, any two bit preacher could tell you that. When a hush fell on them, Chris had to admit the man was good at his job.
Raising his hand, Ezra summoned a young woman with a cloth fan up from the crowd. His face remained expressionless as she came to a stop next to him. "You are wasting your time. He will never love you and the child you carry will never see him."
Her face fell. About to turn on Ezra, she found a pair of restraining hands on her arms.
Chris shook his head. "Don't make a scene." He handed her off to the next guard before going back to his place. Silently, he sent a plea with Ezra to be more tactful with the next one.
No such luck.
Ezra rose from his throne, pointing at a well dressed man in the center of the crowd. For the first time since he arrived, his face twisted in to an expression of extreme distaste. His voice, when it came out, shook the boards of the stage. "Begone before I smite thee! I will not tolerate thyne presence, thou hast fouled my house and my commandments. Laid with the daughters of thy covenant and raped their youths, I cast thou out!"
Eyes wide, Chris watched the accused preacher clutch at his collar. He felt himself frozen in place, unable to stop Ezra's cursing.
"Blasphemer! Spawn from hell, I cast thou out!" Clearing his throat, Ezra spit upon the man. Raising both his hands, he made a grand, sweeping gesture to part the crowd. They did as he bid. Once more, he pointed at the man. "Begone! Begone, filth from my house and never set foot here again lest thee know only eternal agony!"
Pale and shaking, the man didn't wait long enough for Ezra to finish before taking off. Hat flying away, his white collar could be seen above the black collar of his shirt.
Finally freed, Chris crossed the stage to haul Ezra back to his chair. Throwing the man in his seat, he leaned down directly in his face. He knew close contact with a person upset Ezra, and used it to punish him. "Shut the fuck up! Do you have any idea just what the hell you did?"
The only sign that Ezra had been effected by this was the few drops of sweat on his brow. Those were quickly wiped away with his silk handkerchief. Pushing up his glasses, Ezra turned unblinking eyes upon Chris. When the man didn't back away, he raised an eyebrow. "Have a cigarette, Mr. Larabee."
Chris shot up and took a step back. Hands clenching and unfurling, he angrily held himself in check. This was neither the time or place. "Get on with the damned show, you son of a bitch."
"Very well." Looking out over the crowd, Ezra met the gazes of several startled people. Not a single one held his interest for long. Still, he had a job to do. Raising his hand, he gestured for a young man near the front to come up on the small stage. "You will see Europe in ten years. Be sure to put on body fat, you'll need it during the winters you spend there." The grateful smile he was given made his stomach turn.
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With a final groan, JD wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set the bucket back down. Frogs and raw fish tasted worse coming back up than going down. At least he didn't have to swallow the chicken heads, that was one painful shit he would never forget. After a year of doing this, he was skilled enough not to get a mouth full of blood.
Laying back in his chair, he panted heavily, trying to cool his body off. The lights, the smells, and crowds had mixed in a swirling mass that made him queasy. Worse yet, he still had one more performance to give before he could call off for the night.
He was still laying back, half dressed, when his curtains slid open enough to let someone in. JD almost came out of his chair, but the exhaustion kept him grounded. "Get out!"
"JD." Letting her eyes linger over his bared skin, Casey took in a slow breath. The smell of vomit assaulted her nostrils and she frowned. "I saw your performance. You were beautiful up there. Everyone was stopping and watching you, even when the ushers told them to move along."
"They shouldn't have been lingering. The rules are clearly stated before they come in." Rubbing his stomach to ease the cramping, JD started to pull his outfit back up. He was knotting the chest pieces back together when he saw Casey advance on him. "I don't want your help. Go back to your perch before Mrs. Travis comes for you!"
Face screwed up in anger, Casey grabbed her skirt and slammed through the curtains.
Before he could finish tying the last knot, his curtains parted again. This time, the blonde head of said woman poked through. "JD?"
"What, Mrs. Travis?" If he ignored or paid attention, she would go on either way. He chose to finish getting ready. When he tied off the two pieces of cloth under his left arm, he turned to the small mirror on his trunk. His white face paint needed a little touch up, but was other wise fine.
Stopping just out of arm's reach, she watched him apply his makeup. "Casey is upset, again." When he didn't even stop so much as to look at her, she shook her head. "We all have to get along, JD. Even if you don't wish to be her boyfriend, you still have to see her on a daily basis. At least try to be civil."
"I'm not gonna do that! Every time I tell her no, it only makes her more determined." Finished with his makeup, he spun to face her. "If I even give her a single kind word, she'll be on me faster than ticks on a dog. I won't do it!"
"I see." From her expression, Mary didn't really. Her own pale makeup hid the lines that formed around her eyes when she frowned at him. "Since I am master of this tent, you will do as I say while in it. I am telling you to be civil or look for work else where."
"Then I'll be lookin for work else where, I guess." Standing up, JD pushed passed her to stomp his way out on the stage. Instead of his usual routine of warm ups, he grabbed the chicken from its cage. Stuffing the head in his mouth, he bit down and worried it until the head came off. Spitting the head in to the crowd, he threw the still flapping bird's body at them.
"JD!" Eyes wide, Mary watched in horror as people screamed and fled from the wildly flailing body.
Grabbing the jar of frogs, lizards, and fish, JD hurled them on to the crowd. He dropped the jar before stomping off the stage. The crowd gave him ample room as he stalked his way towards the exit. As he passed by Casey's booth, he growled at her, waving his arms wildly.
She returned his glare with equal measure, watching him kick up straw as he fled the tent.