The Crimson Carnival: Chapter VIII, The Theater Rose

  --- Gregory Fischer —

  He forced himself to hold back a grimace as the voice of the woman he assumed to be the Theater Rose echoed in the silence of the stadium. The fact that she was willing to at least hear them out already put her several steps above all of the cannibal clowns in town, so there was no need to show her his discomfort. (Still better to get straight to the point…)

  Feeling the crimson eyes watching him, he decided it was best to honestly answer, “If you don’t mind… we’re hoping to find a way out of this carnival that doesn’t involve being eaten by a horde of carnivorous clown rejects.”

  The woman let out a scoff, “Yes, many wish for such this night… Unfortunately, the greatest mercy you shall receive in the court is one monster letting you go so another may devour you instead… Such as now.”

  As the red eyed woman turned forward once more, he knew that was a dismissal but at the same time, (this might be our only opportunity to get out of this hell hole…)

  Which is why -even if it might’ve been a bad idea- he pressed for more. “All the mon… clowns, out there are reveling in the slaughter, getting drunk, partying like there’s no tomorrow. And yet, none of them are coming anywhere near here. There’s got to be a reason for that.”

  The Theater Rose let out a sound that was somewhere between resignation and amusement before downing half of her bottle and turning back towards him with a grimace that could almost be mistaken as a wry grin. “No need to censor thouself. As thou said the monsters prowling this festival are reveling in their gluttonous beasthood. So, joyous to be allowed to publicly feast and slaughter in a way the Court keeps locked behind closed doors, all while pretending to hide behind the mask of civility. It is little wonder their wretched dredges avoid my sight when I need not pretend to accept them.”

  “I see…” Even if the flowery language made it a bit hard to, he at least understood that this ‘Court’ was in charge of this place and were the ones letting their people run wild.

  Something the woman in front of him did not approve of if he had the right of it. (Maybe I can use that…)

  “If they avoid you, and you have no love for the nightmare going on out there, then maybe you can help us? You don’t even have to do anything, simply let us stay in your lobby until we can leave with the dawn.” It was something of a gamble to lay out that plan, and went against his own preference for things, (but if this place really will be safe for the kids…)

  The Theater Rose’s face twisted. “And why would I allow thou to remain here? When doing so would invite every wretch of the court into my sanctuary to hunt you? And be sure, they shall find you before the night ends.” The red-eyed monster reached for a weapon sheathed at her hip. “I’d rather kill the lot of you and simply be done with it.”

  “But that would make you like the monsters outside!” Melanie suddenly shouted, drawing the attention of everyone in the auditorium.

  “You dare?” The monster snarled, bits of red beginning to flake off of its form.

  “She’s right.” He interrupted, with a glare at the teen even as he took the heat off of her before taking a step forward and pulling out his map. “But more importantly wouldn’t blood appearing near you set off some kind of alarm in the other monsters? Tell them that something is going on, draw at least some of them here?”

  The red-eyed monster growled, before looking away as she caught sight of something on the map. “I’ve always hated that game of theirs…”

  “Look, we don’t like these clowns anymore than you do, but there must be a reason you’re avoiding all of them.” He continued, unwilling to risk taking his eyes off the monster to see what had killed her fight. “Maybe, maybe there’s a way we can help each other? I may not look it but I’ve got a decent amount of firepower.” To underline this point he ignited a flame in his hand, one admittedly half the size he’d normally show off, but (hopefully it’s enough to catch her attention.)

  The woman stared at the flame for a moment before shaking her head. “It matters not. If I sent you to kill those I wish dead, they’d merely see it as me gifting them a blood bag. Your magic merely makes you a more tempting meal. Better to hope they simply leave me be in my theater than to invite them in once more.”

  He knew that look in the Theater Rose’s eyes, beneath the rage and half-drunken haze, a look that he’d seen in his own whenever he looked in the mirror. A look that had given up and was simply waiting for the end…

  (Damn it…) He hated seeing that look on anyone, even a monster that wouldn’t hesitate to rip his throat out with its teeth. (No. There’s no crying until the job is done.)

  That was drilled into everyone’s head during the war, and he had to remember it now.

  (In fact…) If he remembered his actual job and what that entailed… “You clearly don’t get along with the rest of this… court, don’t like what they’re doing here. There’s got to be a Story there, something that’ll help us get out of here, be it by helping you or something else.”

  The woman stared at him with her blood red eyes, as if trying to figure out what he was planning.

  Not that she’d be able to figure out that he was trying to collect her Story to get Briar to hopefully evac him and the kids out of the warzone. A plan that hinged both on the woman being drunk enough to open up to a complete stranger, and his ability to record her Story. (Something I’m still not entirely sure how to do…)

  Eventually the red woman let out a sigh before finishing off her current bottle and casually breaking it like her last. “Clearly, thou know not who you are dealing with.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Then tell us… Please.” He tried, continuing down the stairs.

  The Theater Rose turned back to her case of boxes, as she began to inspect them.

  “Once upon a time the Crimson Carnival was meant as a refuge for those of the Court who did not enjoy the machinations and politics that filled that pit of snakes…” The woman spat, before her tone once more filled with resignation. “But like all things the Court touches, the idea was corrupted bit by bit as they sent those they deemed worthless to the Carnival instead of those wishing for peace…”

  The red-eyed woman stood, inspecting the bottle just like she had the previous. “These wretches saw fit to hunt our patrons. To flood our streets in blood and death. A mad revelry that was only encouraged by the visiting Nobles of the Court that had learned of the games. The wretches escalated, desperate for the approval of their betters all while unaware of the aristocracy mocking them for giving in like the dogs that they are.”

  Opening the bottle the Theater Rose took a swig of it before continuing her tale. “Bit by bit all of those who saw the Carnival as an asylum from the Court, were killed off or infected by the hysteria of their brethren. Until the day came that it had become little more than another amusement for the snakes that turned mice into rats that devoured all in their path.”

  The red-eyed woman sat in a chair on the stage while looking regretfully at the bottle in her hands as she seemed to lose something in her tone. “Now here we are trapped by the Court that refuses to give the leash on our throats any slack.”

  (Mood…) He thought bitterly, sitting down as he remembered how things had slowly soured before he finally left the military.

  The Theater Rose looked at him, before letting her gaze drift towards the kids still by the entrance to the auditorium. “The dawn isn’t enough to break free of the Court’s power. At least not on its own.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Daylight diminishes but does not end the influence of the Court. Meaning that even if you waited until dawn, it would not be enough to escape the Carnival by itself.” The woman explained with a grimace.

  The Theater Rose stumbled ever so slightly as she stood, even if her words lacked any form of slurring expected of someone who’d killed at least three bottles. “The Carnival is now a trap. Once you step foot within you are under its influence and incapable of leaving its borders. The exception being the true entrance.”

  “And where is this true entrance?” He wondered, standing back up himself.

  The woman held her hand out for his map, before pointing at the start of a large trail of blood that spiraled through the park, past the crown and every other emblem including the rose as her finger circled closer and closer to-

  “The Ferris Wheel?” He huffed. “Knew there was something off about that thing.”

  “Yes, he… always finishes his tours of the festival there to watch the sunrise over the horizon before taking his leave.” The Theater Rose told him. “To escape you need to ride it until its peak with a Blood Key on your person.”

  “A Blood Key?” He repeated.

  The woman reached inside of her tailcoat before pulling out a circular emblem with a beautiful rose carved into it. “You can use this, I’ve little need for it given how I only return to the Court under duress.”

  “And you can’t use it to go anywhere else?” He frowned, not liking the way she said ‘under duress’.

  “If I were to escape, they’d find me wherever I may roam.” The Theater Rose confessed.

  “Even the other side of the world?” He wondered, because he’d never heard of the Court and he was in the know for most if not all of the… shadier groups in his city. (The Library doesn’t count since it’s clearly not native to the city.)

  The woman gave him a curious look before reluctantly nodding. “Aye, the king would pursue his rose to the ends of the world…”

  Part of him wanted to try talking her into coming, but the sheer resignation in her voice told him that she wouldn’t believe him. And (I’ve been there…)

  It wasn’t the kind of thing that could be broken in a single conversation, the parts of it he’d managed to shrug off himself was only thanks to Briar’s book. (Maybe… Maybe I can figure something out once the kids are safe…)

  Knowing that that fight would have to be a different day, he gave the Theater Rose a wry grin as he reached for the emblem. “Well, I guess Ferris is getting his wish…”

  Just as he was about to take the emblem the woman pulled it out of his reach.

  “...”

  Every hair on his body began to stand on edge, as if he was suddenly staring down a dangerous predator. His eyes darted to the woman’s and he found two blood red eyes not looking at him but at the kids further back.

  He pulled out a Smoke from his carton. “What’s wrong?”

  “The Child cannot go with you.” The monster told him, her eyes meeting his and telling him she would not budge on this.

  “Why not?” He asked, giving her a chance to change her mind given her courtesy thus far.

  “That Child belongs to the Carnival. A tithe paid, regardless of what either of us wants. If thou take it with you, we all shall regret it.” The woman warned him, and he could tell by the fact that she hadn’t attacked him yet that she was giving him her own courtesy right now.

  “A tithe paid…” He really did not like the sound of that, he even said as much as he lit his cigarette.

  The Theater Rose shook her head. “It matters not. All of the Children must stay within the Carnival lest we invite disaster.”

  He got the distinct feeling that when she said ‘Children’ she wasn’t talking about Louis or Melanie. “I really wish you hadn’t said that, because-” Before the Theater Rose could react, his flame coated fist shot forward, straight for the monster’s head.

  With an inhuman speed the Theater Rose deflected his blow, sending cinders flying around them as she leapt backwards with a dagger in hand.

  “I’ve got a real soft spot for children.” He sighed.

  The red-eyed woman watched him before letting out a sigh of her own. “Noble. Foolish, but noble.”

  “Sorry, that’s just the kind of guy I am.” He shrugged before entering a fighting stance with his fists raised as cinder filled smoke began to swirl around him.

  “And pray tell, what is the name of this foolish and noble ‘guy’?” The Theater Rose asked as she entered a stance of her own, the blade of the crimson dagger slowly extending.

  “Gregory Fischer.” He answered, breathing in a lung full of Smoke. “You?”

  “Maeve Roisin.” The woman -Maeve- offered showing off her fangs as crimson began to flake off of her. “There’s really no convincing you to give up the Child?”

  “Nope.” He admitted, trying not to grimace as he noticed something shifting around the Theater Rose.

  “A shame.” Maeve nodded in understanding. “I’ll make sure the other two escape at the very least.”

  “And I’ll make sure all of us do.” He nodded back.

  They both stared each other down -one surrounded by cinder and ash, the other crimson and blood- before rushing forward to meet in a flurry of flame and blood.

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  A/N: Could’ve done a choice here about handing over Ferris but only one option felt in character for awkward but well meaning Fischer.

  []-Write-In any combat ideas you’ve got. All will be considered.

  ---

  Reminder: This choice was already made.