Warning! This Is A Dark Ride! By Kuzibah

Disclaimer: The character of Angel and situations relating to "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the WB Network. No ownership by the author is implied. Grr. Arrgh. Follows �N.I.N.A.� Archive- Sure, but email me and let me know where it�s going. Feedback- Absolutely. Coney Island, New York- June 1924 The young man worked his way slowly around Adventure Land Pier, skewering errant refuse and depositing it in his shoulder bag. His work clothes and hair were liberally spotted with the grease from the engines that ran the rides, as well as the occasional smear of garbage from when he carried the waste of the amusement pier to where it waited to be carted away. To the beachgoers enjoying Adventure Land's delights, he was invisible, and he preferred it that way. Those who had known him in his wicked past would hardly recognize him as Angelus, one-time contender for the most ruthlessly cruel vampire on Earth. He called himself Angel now, and as far as anyone knew he was no more than a poor immigrant boy working on the pier because he had no other skills. But the truth was he worked here because the owner was desperate enough to hire him for night work only, sight unseen, and pay him daily in cash. Angel was able to hide himself in the catacombs beneath the "Tunnel of Love" during the day, sleeping in the crevices among the machinery, safely sheltered from the sunlight that would kill him almost instantly. And the rats that lived on the pier, Angel's only sustenance this past quarter century, were sluggish from their nightly gorges on leftover popcorn and red-hots. For a vampire cursed with a soul, he'd endured far worse. Angel saved every dime of his salary, keeping it tucked inside his clothes. When Fall came, this bit of luck that had come his way would end, and he hoped to have enough to rent a cheap basement room for awhile. So far, he only had enough for about two weeks, but he had time to plan. Unfortunately, his rather unique circumstance made any long term plans impossible. But for now, life was not bad. He had work, he had shelter, he had food. And he'd stopped caring a long time ago about his comfort or looks. He passed among the food stands, and the popcorn and cotton candy girls called his name and waved. He waved back, smiling. They were good girls and had sort of adopted him, like a lost puppy. They let him rest out of sight, if he needed to, and reminded him to take care of himself. He thought wistfully of his mortal days, when he might have romanced one of these kind-hearted lasses, but he recalled all too soon of the fate they would have met when he was a brutal, soul-less murderer, and he kept his distance. He moved on to the midway, around and behind the various rides. He still looked at them with admiration and wonder. They were symbols to him of this marvelous and carefree age. It wouldn't last, he knew, he'd lived long enough to know no golden age went on forever. But the beach and the piers were still otherworldly to him, with their lights and movement. In his childhood, they would have been miracles. He slipped behind the funhouse, and emptied his bag into the large trash bin. He could hear the shrieks from the customers inside and shuddered uneasily. He had been the cause of too many screams in his life to fully understand the appeal fear held for some people. Just then a door in the wall above him opened and Tommy, another roustabout, leaned out. "Angel, up here," he called waving. Angel could see he held a fierce papier-m�ch� mask. "Come on," Tommy urged, "this is great fun." Angel glanced around to make sure the pier's owner, Mr. Amoroso, wasn't around, then scaled the short distance up the wall to where Tommy stood. Tommy gave a low, impressed whistle. "Nice climbing," he said. Angel shrugged, but mentally told himself to be more careful. Then Tommy led him into the funhouse. They moved like rats themselves behind the scenery walls that lined either side on the track. The track itself was only dimly lit, and small metal cars were pulled along on a chain that was cycled through the entire structure by a drive train underneath. Each car held small groups of children or older couples, and switches underneath caused lights to flash, illuminating spooky scenes. At other points, mechanisms caused papier-m�ch� monsters to pounce towards the car. Small openings in the tunnel, unseen by the passengers, allowed Tommy and Angel to observe their reactions. "Watch this," Tommy said, pulling the mask over his head. As a car with two teenage lovebirds approached, Tommy threw open a trapdoor just above their heads, leaned out and gave a heartfelt screech. The girl howled in alarm, clutching her beau to her. His eyes bulged and he hugged her back. Tommy darted back into the trap door, and Angel heard the couple being pulled away, laughing. Suddenly Angel understood. This was nothing like real fear, it was only a willful illusion, a fancy. A way to look the darkness in the face and emerge again, laughing. Angel watched the faces as they moved past, and envied them. Their hearts were racing, blood pounded in their veins; they were truly alive. Tommy handed Angel the mask. "Give it a try," he said. With a grin, Angel pulled the mask over his head, and jumped out at the next couple, roaring and howling. The two screamed, then laughed, their arms around each other. Angel pulled back, laughing himself. He handed the mask back to Tommy and slapped him on the back. "Thanks," he said, "I needed that." "Hey, Angel," Tommy said as Angel slipped back out the door to the boardwalk, "why don't you meet me when the pier closes down." Angel smiled. "Okay," he said. Angel managed to grab a few rats on the fly during the evening, and when the amusement pier was finally closed and locked he went to the back gate to meet with Tommy. A few minutes later Tommy joined him, furtively clutching a paper bag. "Come on," Tommy said, and he led Angel up to the roof of the funhouse. When they were both seated there, Tommy reached into his bag and drew out two Nathan's hot dogs. "I got you one," he said, handing it to Angel. "Thanks," Angel said, taking it. "And what would dogs be," Tommy went on, dipping into the bag again, "without a little beer." And he pulled out two plain brown bottles. Angel jumped with surprise. Alcohol had been illegal for four years now. "Where did you get that," he hissed. "Oh, a gentleman knows how to acquire the finer things," Tommy said smugly, passing a bottle to Angel. Angel examined it. It appeared to be Canadian. Smuggled, no doubt. "This must have cost you," he said. Tommy shrugged. "I got paid today, same as you." Angel opened his mouth and heard his father's voice. "But what will you do in September," he said, "you should be saving your money." Tommy shrugged again. "I'll get another job." He took a draw from his beer. "Things are about to turn around for me. Life owes me, I think." Angel laughed bitterly. "Life doesn't owe anything," he said. "Believe me, life will take the opportunity to bugger you whenever it can." "I don't know," Tommy said. "I've never had a problem before. I always land on my feet." "But you're young, you're healthy," Angel pointed out, "you could be making a future for yourself." Unlike me, he added to himself. Tommy downed the last of his beer, and Angel suddenly found himself looking back through a tunnel of years to his own youth. "Get off my back, dad," Tommy said, driving home the parallel, and Angel fell silent. The two of them fell to staring out at the tide coming in, and at some point Tommy took the unopened beer back from Angel and drank it himself. "Maybe I'll become a sailor," Tommy said finally, "travel, see the world." Angel nodded noncommittally. "Have you seen the sailors on the boardwalk," Tommy went on, "they get all the ladies." "It's the romance of the sea," Angel suggested. "Or the tattoos," Tommy said, laughing. "Nothing makes a young woman's heart go pit-a-pat like another lady's name on your arm. Or maybe pictures of anchors are the secret. Maybe I should just have a snake done and forget the whole sailing plan." "I have a tattoo," Angel blurted out. Tommy stopped laughing. "You do?" he said, "I mean, no offense, but you don't really seem the type." Angel smiled at that. "Thanks," he said, "it was a long time ago. I was different, then." "Well, where is it," Tommy pressed, "and what is it? A heart, I'll bet." "Here, on my back," Angel said, pulling his shirt off. Tommy examined the tattoo, his eyebrows lowered in confusion. "What is it?" he said finally. "It's Irish," Angel said, "which works out well since I got it in Ireland." "Much more interesting than a parrot or sailing ship," Tommy agreed. "Actually, in hindsight, I wish I hadn't," Angel said. "It represents something about me I'd rather bury, but I'll still have it the rest of my life." They fell silent again, and watched the sea and the stars. After awhile, Tommy bid Angel goodnight, climbed down from the roof, and wandered off. Angel stayed awhile longer, watching the pale crescent moon slowly rise over the ocean. There wasn't really anything he could say to Tommy, he realized, he'd been the same sort at Tommy's age. Big dreams, no ambition. He stood and took a flying leap off the edge of the roof, landing on the boards below like a cat. Sometimes there were certain advantages to vampirism. He stopped by the pier's machine shop and used their work sink to wash the day's dirt from his hair and skin as best he could, then slipped into the "Tunnel of Love" ride. He crept through tiny access ports to the chamber that housed the main drive machinery and wedged himself into a narrow space between two support platforms. It was pitch dark here, separated from the sun by metal housings and wood flats. It had taken Angel several nights of pre-dawn investigating to find it, but he felt strangely safe here. The pier itself was so full of life, of human joy, and this ride especially seemed to have the passion of thousands of pairs of young lovers embedded in every cog and flywheel. He relaxed his body and fell into heavy, dreamless sleep. ******************** Over the next few nights, Angel made a point of spending a few minutes each night scaring the people in the funhouse with Tommy. It never failed to give him a lift. It was just after his return from one of these breaks, while he was re-adjusting his bag on his shoulder, that Mr. Amoroso, the amusement pier's owner, came up to him. "Angel," he said, "I need to talk to you." Angel turned away from Amoroso so he wouldn't have to look him in the eye. "Look," he said, "if it's about the funhouse..." "No, Angel..." Angel started fiddling with his stick. "I only go in for a few minutes a night," he continued, "I won't do it anymore..." "It's not the funhouse," Amoroso said flatly. Angel said nothing, still avoiding his boss's gaze. "How long you been a vampire, Angel?" Angel dropped his stick as every muscle went tense with shock. "What," he stammered. "I said," Amoroso said calmly, "how long have you been a vampire?" Angel turned to the man and saw he was casually holding a cross in one hand and a wooden stake in the other. Angel started to back away, his eyes on Amoroso's hands. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, trying not to let the terror that was rising in him affect his voice. "Take it easy," Amoroso said, stepping back himself. "I've been in this business seventeen years. You think I haven't run across enough vampires to know one when I see one." "I honestly have no idea," Angel said faintly. "You're not like the others, though," Amoroso continued, "you never attack people, though you have ample opportunity. You eat rats. You actually work. Not only that, you don't seem to mind looking like hell. I don't know why, but you're different. Weaker." Angel's eyes narrowed. "It's not weakness," he said. "So you admit it," Amoroso said. "Seeing as how you've been spying on me, I don't really have a choice," Angel said. "So, do you want to continue the interview, or should I run for my life now." Sheepishly, Amoroso looked down at his weapons. "Sorry," he mumbled, stuffing them in his pockets. "Look," he said after a moment, "I don't know your story, and as long as you don't hurt anyone, I don't really care what you are." That makes one of us, Angel thought. "But I'm guessing you need money," Amoroso went on, "and if you work with me you can make a hell of a lot more than you will carting garbage." "Go on," Angel said warily. Amoroso was warmed up now. "Okay," he said, shifting to showman mode, "picture this. Adventure Land Pier's Parliament of Wonders presents a real live vampire!" "Real undead vampire," Angel corrected, his voice thick with disgust. "Doesn't matter," Amoroso said. "It does to me," Angel replied. "This isn't some sort of trick. This is my life. And if you know anything about vampires, you know there are people who make it their life's work to kill us." "And if this were a legitimate venue, that'd be a concern," Amoroso said, "but it's not. What I'm talking about is presenting you exactly the same way we present the fish boy or the snake charmer. Chintz costumes, pasteboard set, overblown patter about your dangerous capture. Let doctors examine you for a pulse. Let the ladies feel your cold, bloodless flesh. End up with a big mirror reflecting everything in the room but you. It's just like the funhouse. They won't believe it for a second, but they'll come back twenty times trying to figure out how we did it." Angel bit his lip, considering. "Five percent of the gate," Amoroso said. "That'll keep you easily through the winter." Damn the man, Angel thought, it made sense. And he really could use the money. "Okay," he agreed, "but we have to do things my way." Amoroso reached out and shook Angel's hand. "Anything you say." ******************** Adventure Land Pier's Parliament of Wonders - August 1924 Mr. Amoroso stood on a small platform at the back of the crowd, entreating them to keep together and hurry into the next room. A crimson curtain obscured the stage in front of them, and a single red spotlight shone on it. "Next, Ladies and Gentlemen," he said, "we have for your edification and entertainment one of the most terrifying monsters known to man. For hundreds of years this creature's name has been spoken in hushed tones, and he has inspired a ghastly dread in every far-flung culture. Yet, perversely, he is known as a charming and seductive villain, spiriting ladies away against their will to feed his dark passions. For the first time, ladies and gentlemen, the Adventure Land Pier's Parliament of Wonders presents Count Victor, the vampire!" The crimson curtain swept aside to reveal Angel, seated in a worn velvet chair. He was dressed in glossy black evening clothes, and was bathed in the red light. His vampiric countenance contorted his features, and he glared down at the crowd. Those nearest the front stepped back. "Captured in the Carpathian mountains of Transylvania," Amoroso continued, "Count Victor feeds only on blood." Angel rose dramatically and glided towards the crowd, brought up short by a chain around his ankle. He pulled at it angrily, snarling. A few ladies in the audience squealed in alarm. Amoroso stepped into the crowd and moved towards the stage. "I invite any physicians in the audience to examine the Count for any sign of a pulse or respiration, which I can assure you they will not find." At this, two young men who did not look anywhere near old enough to have attended medical school hustled forward to take Angel's wrist and search for a heartbeat. The braver of the two reached towards Angel's throat and though Angel made a show of distaste he consented to let him touch where his pulse would have been. Finding none, they both stepped back, grudgingly impressed. Amoroso had reached Angel's side. "Are there any brave young ladies in the audience who would dare to look into the Count's eyes, to feel his cold kiss upon your hand, to defy him to cast his spell upon you." A few women giggled as Angel cast what he hoped was a charismatic "come-hither" gaze over them, but none stepped forward. "Very well," Amoroso said, "I sense there are still a few doubters among us. Then for our final demonstration let me offer our most dramatic proof. As I am sure you know the immortal creatures of darkness cast no reflection in mirrors. Ladies and Gentlemen, observe!" Amoroso pulled a cord, and the curtain behind Angel fell away, revealing an enormous looking-glass. Angel turned towards it, hissing and growling. It reflected the room and crowd, while his own image was not revealed. The audience gasped in surprise, then applauded. The curtain closed, separating them from Angel and the stage. "Now then, Ladies and Gentlemen," Amoroso said, leading them to the next stall, "we are privileged to present Zambora, mysterious girl of the Amazon..." Angel stepped out of the cuff around his ankle and reset the curtain over the mirror, ready for the next show. He hated to admit it, but he kind of got a kick out of doing the show. And Amoroso had been right, they didn't believe it for a second. He always heard members of the audience talking as they moved along, offering all sorts of outlandish "explanations" for the performance. From the stall next door, Xandria, Woman of the Wild, stepped through the curtains. She was an exotic animal trainer, and had one of her pets, a tiny palm monkey, no bigger than one of the kewpie dolls that were won on the midway, perched on her shoulder. She was eating a bunch of grapes and kept handing them, one at a time, to the monkey. They looked like basketballs in its hands. "Good crowd tonight," she said. "Yeah," Angel agreed, "the last gasp before the Fall, I guess." "Mmmm," said Xandria affirmatively. "Care for a grape?" "Thanks," Angel said, taking one to be polite. Tommy came through the curtain then, his mask from the funhouse pushed to the top of his head. His face was flushed with excitement. "Man, that was great," he said, "I was watching through the back. You really got them, Angel. But you know what would be better. If you broke free at the end and chased them!" Angel shook his head. He'd seen Tommy's morbid streak before. "I can't do that," he said, "it just wouldn't feel right." "Anyway," added Xandria, "Zambora has that shtick." "Good point," Tommy agreed, deflated, then he brightened. "Maybe you could get Amoroso to add some stuff about all your victims. All the gory details." Amoroso had actually made that suggestion, and Angel had almost changed his mind about the whole thing over it. Too close to reality for his comfort. "Absolutely not," he said flatly. "Well I still can't figure out how you do the mirror trick," Tommy went on. "I hope you'll at least show me that before summer's over." Not even at knifepoint, Angel thought, but he only grunted noncommittally. Just then, Amoroso stuck his head through the curtain. "Great job, guys," he said to Angel and Xandria, "We'll have another group in a minute." His eye fell on Tommy. "Oh, for... Get back to the funhouse. I'm not paying you to lollygag." "Yes, sir," Tommy said, shooting a grin and wink at Angel as he ducked back out. "Break a leg, sweetie," Xandria said, scooping the monkey from her shoulder and stepping back through the curtain to her stall. Angel straightened his clothes, and slipped his foot back through the shackle. Then he sat in his chair, paging through the latest issue of "The Savoy" until he heard the crowd approaching. He closed the magazine and slipped it under the seat cushion, then let his control slip just enough to let his vampire face come to the surface, twisting his face into a frightening grimace. He heard the crowd move into the room and Amoroso begin his spiel, and the curtain opened, shining the red light into his eyes. His gaze roamed over the faces, trying to pick ones in particular to fix with a stare and frighten just a little bit. They were the usual, people in casual clothes pulled on over bathing costumes. Then he caught sight of three in the back, two women and a man. It was hard to see them past the spotlight shining in his eyes, but they seemed to be dressed rather formally. The women were giggling to one another behind their hands, but the man was glaring at him with cold contempt. The show reached the point where the mirror was unveiled, and Angel turned towards it, hissing as before. In the glass he saw the audience reflected, but the three formal ones were gone. Realization hit Angel like a lightning bolt, and he spun back towards the audience. The three saw his look and pushed towards the crowd to exit into the next stall. And as Angel stood there, trying to decide if he should break character, the curtain in front of him closed, ending the show. Cursing under his breath, Angel pulled off his ankle chain and ran back through the side-show, trying to figure out how to kill them without starting a panic on the crowded pier. As he emerged from the entrance, he saw he was too late. The three vampires were running down the pier, much too far away for him to catch them. Furiously agitated, Angel worked his way back to his stall, and met Amoroso there. It was obvious from Amoroso's face he had recognized the three for what they were. "I'm sorry, Angel," he said, "they were just too fast for me." Angel paced back and forth, restlessly. "They saw me," Angel said quietly, "they know." Amoroso nodded. "But they didn't do anything," he said. "You don't understand," Angel said, his voice rising to a harsh whisper. "You think they're all more or less like me, but they're not. I'm the only vampire in the world that doesn't murder people and drink their blood. And the others hate me for that. We are all in grave danger unless we kill them." Amoroso reached inside his jacket and pulled out a long, sharpened stake. "I'm ready," he said. "You don't have to tell me about vampires. My fianc�e in Firenza, my Rosanna, she was the Chosen One." This brought Angel up short. He gaped at Amoroso. "I knew her," he said finally. "I met her on my voyage to America." Amoroso nodded. "You are older than I thought," he said. "I'm much older than that," Angel said. "What happened to her?" Amoroso's eyes misted and he got a faraway look. "What happens to all the slayers? A vampire killed her. Only nineteen. But we have no time for that." He looked at Angel. "A few of my people, my long-timers, they know. Not about you," he said hurriedly, "about vampires in general. I'll arm them, and tell them to stake on sight, witnesses or no witnesses. And you should get a stake yourself." "I will," Angel said. "I'll shut the side-show down for tonight," Amoroso said, "I don't think you're in any shape to go on, anyway." "Thanks." Amoroso left him, and Angel stepped through the curtain to change and get his magazine. Tommy was there, his face white as he stared at Angel in shock. "You're a real vampire," he said. It was not a question. Angel shook his head. "Tommy, I'm sorry," he said, "I couldn't tell you." He shrugged helplessly. "How could I tell you?" "So you seduce women and drink their blood?" There was excitement in Tommy's voice. Angel recoiled. "No," he said, appalled, "not anymore. Not for twenty-five years. And never again. Tommy, what's gotten into you?" "Oh, Angel," Tommy said, his voice hushed, "make me one, too." "What?" "I'd be a great vampire," Tommy went on breathlessly. "Please, make me one. Let me live forever. Let me have power and strength. Make me beautiful. Make me like you." Angel grabbed the front of Tommy's shirt and pulled the young man's face close to his own contorted, vampiric features. "Is this what you want," he snarled. "If I change you, you'll be gone, and a demon will be walking around with your body and your face. And it will kill to satisfy its thirst. No romance. No glamour. Just violent death for everyone you meet. And you want me to do that to you?" "But you're different," Tommy pointed out, "I wouldn't hurt anyone, I swear." Angel put Tommy down and turned painfully away. "I'm different," he said softly, "yes. But it had nothing to do with me. For a hundred and fifty years I was as I told you. But somebody else made me what I am now, and at the time I would never have chosen it. I can't do it, do you understand? If I make you a vampire, you will be a killer." A hard anger came over Tommy's face. "You son of a bitch," he growled, "so you'll keep it all for yourself." Angel shook his head. "I told you..." "Liar!" Tommy spat at him. Angel grabbed Tommy again, lifting and shaking him. "Stop it," he shouted, and Tommy grimaced with pain, "you are telling me you want to be a murderer, and you want me to unleash that on the earth." He snarled in frustration, like an animal, anger feeding the demon inside him. "You haven't the faintest notion what you ask, do you hear me. I won't do it, I won't." It was not entirely clear if he was speaking to Tommy or himself. But Tommy wasn't the least bit afraid, and as Angel set him down, he balled up his fist and struck Angel dead in the mouth, hard enough to stagger the vampire. "God damn you," he said through furious tears, "I thought you were my friend." "I am, Tommy," Angel replied, with a tenderness that surprised him. But Tommy wasn't listening anymore, and he turned and fled. Angel could hear his anguished weeping as it melted into the general crowd noise on the pier, and for a long time afterwards. Tommy didn't return the rest of the night, and Angel tossed uneasily in his resting place all the next day. He begged off work the next night and wandered the full length of the boardwalk searching for any sign of the young man, a cold dread gripping him tighter and tighter. He had also taken Amoroso's advice and armed himself with a sharply pointed wooden stake. He hadn't recognized the three vampires from the night before, and they were the first he'd seen in America. Now that he considered it, he was actually surprised by that fact. But no doubt a good number had been driven from Europe by the war. The air was blowing chilly off the ocean; Autumn was on the wind. Soon the boardwalk and piers would be deserted, and Angel would have to find other refuge. He was suddenly strangely thankful for the sideshow job. It had already provided sufficient funds to keep him through the winter, though it seemed to be ending badly. Finally he was back at Adventure Land Pier, where the last of the customers were straggling out. He made his way towards Mr. Amoroso's office, his heart heavy. He was just climbing the stairs when he heard a woman's scream above him. It was short, and cut off suddenly. Angel broke into a run. As he took the steps he heard crashing and thumps in the room, and he pulled out his stake as he ran. Angel burst through the door to find one of the female vampires from the night before straddling the prone form of Mr. Amoroso, her fangs exposed. Angel didn't even slow down, but led with his extended arm, the stake gripped in his fist. It plunged deep into the vampire's back, the flesh giving way like a rotted treetrunk, and pierced the creature's heart. Her head was thrown back and she shrieked even as her body dissolved into glistening dust that disappeared into the air. Angel lifted his boss into a sitting position, brushing the dust from his face and shaking him gently. "Mr. Amoroso," he whispered hoarsely, "wake up." The man's eyes fluttered open, and, seeing Angel, he struggled to his feet, supported by the vampire. "Angel," he croaked. "How many were there," Angel asked, "did we get them all?" "No," Amoroso replied, "only the two women." He coughed violently, a wet, ragged sound. "The male," he gasped, "and, oh, Angel..." He coughed again, then managed, "it's Tommy." It was what Angel had feared, and as he lowered Amoroso into a chair he knew where they must have gone. "The funhouse," he whispered, and Amoroso only nodded gravely. Angel took up his stake and descended the stairs, then crossed the midway to the funhouse. He scaled the back wall and slipped through an access window, then dropped to the floor below. The funhouse had been shut down for the night, and the silent darkness was oddly disorienting. Angel was keenly aware of his profound disadvantage; despite his frequent visits, the funhouse was Tommy's domain. As if in response to his thoughts, the male vampire from the night before came out of the tunnel. He looked momentarily surprised to see Angel, then his face clouded with contempt again. "You," he said, "I should have known. Thomas told me all about you. About what a soft-hearted cripple you are." "Where is he," Angel demanded. The other vampire laughed. "Soon to be master of this place. My ladies are bringing your boss and all his lackeys across to be our minions. This pier will be our banquet hall!" Angel showed his palm, still grey with the dust from the vampire woman's destruction. "Think again," he said. With a roar of pure rage the other vampire flew at Angel, bowling him off his feet. They tumbled over and over each other, and Angel ended up with the other vampire over him, his hands on Angel's arms. "You feeble little defective," he hissed at Angel. "How did you ever get to be a vampire?" Suddenly, the power in the funhouse came on, and the other vampire, startled, eased his grip ever so slightly. Angel snatched the opportunity, yanking his arm free and driving the stake through the other vampire's ribcage. With no momentum, it was gory and messy, but Angel was able to get it into the heart just in time. He found himself strangely satisfied by the look on the other vampire's face as he dissolved into dust. Angel sprang to his feet. All around him the funhouse was in noisy operation, its empty cars processing through the tunnel in an endless line. Papier-m�ch� spooks bobbed at nothing and lights blinked on and off, illuminating no one. All of Angel's nerves felt raw and exposed, and he was struggling not to flee. He was trapped, and Tommy could move freely behind the scenes, surprising him almost anywhere. His stake clutched in his hand, Angel moved through the tunnels, carefully avoiding the endless parade of cars and automatons that seemed to come at him from all directions. Then, below the orderly noise of the machinery, he heard soft, mocking laughter. "Tommy, where are you," he shouted. "Wouldn't you like to know," came the reply. Amid the cacophony, it was impossible to tell where it came from. "I'll find you," Angel said. In response, a large canvas ghost swooped down on him from above, but instead of being pulled up at the last moment, as usual, it continued its descent, slamming into Angel's chest. Angel whirled and fell, and the canvas tangled around him. He struggled out of it with difficulty, and as he stepped away, he heard a metallic rattle above him. He looked up just as a lead counterweight hit his shoulder. He was knocked flat again, only to be battered by the attached chain, as all eighty feet unspooled on top of him. His stake bounced off into the shadows. Angel swooned, fighting unconsciousness, and suddenly Tommy was on him, beating his head and shoulders with a metal bar of some kind, and laughing like a lunatic. Angel managed to free his arms and raised them to shield his head. He could see nothing, only a crimson fog. "Please," he pleaded with Tommy, and, miraculously, the blows ceased. Angel felt his body lifted out of the tangle of chains and dropped into one of the funhouse cars that was rattling around on its track. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, when Tommy's full weight dropped onto his chest, and his face was harshly slapped. "Rise and shine, Angel-boy," Tommy chirped. Angel gasped and felt cool air rush over him. The car had exited the funhouse proper, and was moving smoothly through the loading platform. When the pier was open, riders would be scrambling out of and into seats, but there was no crowd now, and he could clearly hear the surf over the silent midway. Free of the funhouse's din, Angel's vision cleared, and he could see Tommy, straddling him, holding him helpless. Tommy's face was distorted by the demon within him. His eyes glowed golden under the carnival lights, and his fangs jutted from his lean jaw. He was cackling insanely, his arms lifted to the heavens above him. "How do you do it, Angel," he said. "How do you deny this power, this... force of nature?" Against his will, Angel felt the demon within himself stir and awaken after so many weeks of being tamed for the sake of the sideshow performance. He felt his own face change and warp. "That's right," Tommy said, his voice icily benevolent, "don't deny yourself." He stroked one long finger along Angel's jaw, laughing cruelly as Angel tried to wince away. Then the car plunged again into the blackness of the funhouse. In the deep shadows, Tommy leaned his face close to Angel's, not quite touching, though Angel could almost feel Tommy's skin against his own. "You killed my new brother," Tommy whispered coldly, "and my new sisters. But that only sets me free to make this place mine alone." "It won't work," Angel said, then felt Tommy's hand laid over his face, caressing his features. "I thought it would make me beautiful," Tommy said wistfully, "but it's the same me." He dug his fingers into Angel's cheek. "I'll have to get by on my strength," he said. Angel felt terror rise up in him. The change had driven Tommy mad. It happened sometimes, he knew, and the resultant vampire was a threat to all around him, his sire included. Angel was in even greater danger than he'd first thought. Tommy was caressing his face again, and Angel was trembling and trying to writhe away from him. His horror at being Tommy's prisoner was causing him to lose all control, and he was biting the inside of his lips in an effort to regain his concentration. "So, Count Victor," Tommy whispered into his ear, "to kill you would be easy. Too easy, and I still need you to tell me of my new life. What can kill me, and what can keep me alive." "I won't tell you," Angel said with much more bravery than he felt. "I think you will," Tommy said, his voice chillingly hard. Angel knew the tone all too well. It had poured from his own lips in the days he had stalked the earth as Angelus, when he had tortured innocents for his own pleasure. He shuddered at the memory. "That's right," Tommy said, his voice cold and condescending, "you should be afraid of me. You should be afraid of all of us. I know what you are, now. I know how... little you are." He rested his forehead against Angel's neck, chuckling insanely. "I can't believe I ever envied you," he said. The car had reached the end of the line again, and pulled back into the loading platform. "We're going now," Tommy said, "but don't think you'll get away." And he lifted a hollow metal bar, Angel thought crazily it looked like a pole from one of the carousel horses, and beat Angel into unconsciousness. ******************** Angel came to chained to the funhouse wall, spread-eagled. Tommy was crouched on a platform, facing him, smiling maniacally. "What a sleepyhead you are," he said to Angel, "I was afraid we might have to continue this tomorrow night. Well, actually," he went on, "we will be continuing this tomorrow night, because, let me be frank... I really am enjoying this." Angel said nothing, only glared in disgust at the thing Tommy had become. "I think we may have gotten off on a bad foot," Tommy said conversationally, "so let's start from the beginning. Amoroso knows what we are, so I'll have to kill him, of course. But who else knows?" Angel stayed silent. "Aren't you going to tell me?" Tommy cajoled. "No," Angel said. Tommy nodded, then picked up a pliers that lay beside him. Something was gripped in them, but Angel couldn't make out what as Tommy leapt from his perch and approached him, dodging the funhouse cars as they continued their ghostly, mechanical march. "I was hoping you'd say that," Tommy said merrily, and he lifted up the pliers for Angel to see. They held a small silver crucifix. "Courtesy of Xandria, Woman of the Wild. Turns out under all the jungle trappings, she's a nice Catholic girl." "You didn't," Angel said. "Maybe I did, and maybe I didn't," Tommy said. "Maybe she'll awaken a changed woman, so to speak. And maybe, you'll never find out. Now then, tell me who else knows." Angel remained resolutely silent, and braced himself. He'd withstood crosses before. They seared his skin like white-hot metal, and left livid scars that lasted for weeks, but they could be survived. He might not even scream. Tommy reached towards Angel and took hold of his face, and even as Angel realized what Tommy intended, he felt an incongruous, grudging respect for his ingenuity. Tommy forced Angel's mouth open and stuffed the cross inside. Angel howled with immediate agony, working his tortured mouth to expel the horrible item until it finally dropped on the floor. Tommy was laughing again, and he retrieved the crucifix with the pliers. "I'll shove it down your throat next," he said, "now, shall I ask the question again?" And, suddenly, unexpectedly, Xandria's tiny pet monkey dropped onto Tommy's head, deftly plucked the crucifix from the pliers, and scampered into the tunnel. With a snarl of frustration, Tommy went after it. The moment he was out of sight, Xandria herself dropped through a trapdoor to stand before Angel. "Are you all right?" she said. Angel, his mouth still burning, nodded dumbly. "I don't have much of a plan, I'm afraid," Xandria said, taking hold of one of Angel's shackles and bracing a foot against the wall. "Ollie's little trick was all I could think of spur the moment." "I appreciate it," Angel said thickly. Xandria gave the chain a yank, throwing her full body's weight into it, and the wall holding the bracket gave way. She took hold of the other wrist shackle and did the same, then looked despairingly at the ankle chains. "I'll need a tool of some kind..." At that, Tommy emerged from the tunnel going full tilt. He plowed into Xandria, who fell and rolled to the base of the wall, knocked cold. Angel swung his arm around and the attached chain went wide and wound around Tommy's neck. He jerked back and pulled Tommy's head into his hands. Tommy was giggling as he looked up at Angel. "Don't breathe, remember," he said, "choke me all you want." Angel's face grew hard with angry resolve and he rotated his wrist to grip the other chain. He punched Tommy as hard as he could, the chain cutting into his knuckles with each blow. He pounded Tommy's face until it was raw and bloody and Tommy himself was stunned and barely conscious. Then he pitched the young vampire onto the funhouse's track. The first car hit him and derailed, lifting off the track and tipping over. It pulled the drive chain out of its groove and with a massive shiver, Tommy was pulled by the chain through the axles of the upended car. The process pushed the car further back along the chain until Tommy was expelled in a state resembling a half-butchered carcass. Angel watched, horrified, as Tommy moved weakly, trying to drag himself from the track. Then the second car hit him, dismembering him at last and reducing him to dust. Angel pulled the shackles from his ankles and wrists and hauled on the emergency shut-down switch. With a tremendous grinding sound, the funhouse went dark and still. He went to Xandria, who was still lying unconscious. She was breathing and seemed otherwise unhurt, and at some point her little pet monkey had returned to her side and was clutching her arm, whimpering piteously. It was touching, in a peculiar way, Angel thought. He scooped Xandria into his arms, allowing the monkey to balance on her chest, and carried her out to the pier. He laid her down gently on the boards. Dawn was coming fast, and he feared he would have to leave her there alone. Just then, Amoroso came towards them. "I heard the funhouse shut down," he shouted across the midway, then seeing Xandria, whispered, "Oh, God," and ran to them. The preceding few hours washed over Angel like a wave, and he crumpled down beside the prone girl, choking on tears of grief. Amoroso put a hand gently on Angel's shoulder. "It's not your fault," he said. Angel jerked away, growling deep in his throat. "Don't touch me," he said, his voice low, "I'm not a child. Death has followed in my footsteps since this country served a King. Don't tell me..." He growled again, then, "I can't stay out. I saved you, I saved your business. I have to get inside. If you have any consideration for what I did for you, you won't..." He trailed off again, and a long anguished tremor shook him. "I'm leaving tomorrow," he said finally, and crept off to spend one last night among the machinery in the "Tunnel of Love." ******************** The next night, just after sunset, a lone figure crossed the darkening midway. He held his head down, hiding the mass of purple-black bruises that darkened his face. He passed a couple, close by, and the young man turned to look at him. "I know you," the young man said, "we saw you a few nights ago, at the sideshow. Aren't you Count Victor?" "No," the figure replied, hurrying away from them, "you must be mistaken. I'm nothing. I'm no one at all." And he vanished into the twilight. Lost Angel 5: I Was a Modern Prometheus Main Menu   ~   Lost Angel

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