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Sweat, sawdust, dry talc and lurking just
below that animal dung mingled with sugar-fried doughnuts.
Lights flashed, the room upside down, huge cavernous space,
faces that swayed. No it was I swaying, upside down, I could
feel my knees rigidly clasping the rod of wood. I swung
wider and higher, faster, the world became stripes of colour
and the two hands that grabbed mine, the weight pulling at
me and I countered it by pushing my legs back into the bar.
We swung, once, twice, three times, and I let go and the
hands were gone. The roar of the crowd blew up at me like a
hot wind. Backwards and forwards, swinging, counting,
fingers clasped, palms hugging then letting go. Finally I
pulled myself back up, sitting on my swing, waving, smiling,
exaggerated gestures, always the performance, the smile, the
act. I swung wide, once, twice and then I was standing, my
arms around my twin, so high above the world it seemed and
the claps and cheering were just another musical interlude,
just another day. We climb back down, muscles taut, our
costumes clammy with dried perspiration.
“You have to tell him.”
“Not today,” her face, picture perfect like a
living doll.
“When?” I followed her out into the night.
Her silence now magnified.
“He’s going to know soon enough. If you can’t
work it out then Dad will and that wont be good.”
Her face was rigid with tension. The act was
over. Reality was down here on the ground. We grabbed a
towel each and wiped our hands, a jug of water on the
rickety table, I poured us two drinks. She drank hers all
the way.
We stood close; I knew what she was thinking.
We had shared everything, a room, a womb, our lives. I
clenched my fist. He was on soon. I thought of ways I could
kill him. If I didn’t Dad would. He was way out of line. He
wasn’t even one of us. Too fancy by far. The big cats I
decided, dad would help, it would be like an accident. He
would die horribly but he had to know why.
Our older brother came over. His face was
smiling, deep in thought, unaware of us; he was sleek and as
randy as an alley cat. He liked to pull the punters in, some
pretty girl flat on her back who dreamed of flying with him,
legs around him like he was the swing and the bed was the
space high above. I wondered how many children he had
fathered through all the towns we travelled.
I bent over to pick up something shiny and
knew he had come behind me. His aftershave slick and exotic.
Under the dappled light his skin glowed pale, not the sickly
luminescent, bloodless, quality it had under the noonday
sun. His arm was around Aurora and the snail print trail of
a kiss on her cheek. We glared at each other; his smile was
way too arrogant. He was dressed in black velvet, top hat
tilted and cape swishing; he looked as though he had stepped
out of the nineteenth century. The only colour was the
scarlet cravat wrapped around his throat.
I could hear the crescendo laughs of the
clown act, the hooting and the tooting sounds as they rode
their toy carts pulled by poodles around and around the
ring, the cantering of Little Buck the miniature horse as
she caught up and nipped their striped bottoms, the laughing
grew louder reaching a peak. He would be on next.
He was whispering in Aurora’s ear, she was
smiling, her body tilted back into his. Her hair rose-gold
against his darkness. Then in a swish he was gone, the
clowns tumbling out in his place, candy striped, lurid,
grotesque after his black sleekness.
The Magus of Magic, his name boomed over the
loud speaker, the applause was thunderous; he had become one
of the circus’s best assets. I looked at Aurora, she had
slumped against the canvas, I pulled her towards me and
escorted her back to the carriage we all shared. By the
sound of the crowd, I knew exactly which trick he had
reached, which illusion he played for them. He was good,
great even, I could concede that. Didn’t make hating him any
harder. That hate flowed into me as naturally as a cold beer
slides down your throat on a hot sultry night. Maybe I had
been born with that hate wrapped over me, just as Aurora had
been born loving him. Who knows? There were weirder things
beyond our understanding, tricks the universe played on us
the way a conjuror plays to the rubes. I often though God
was just a more accomplished grifter, and we were his
unwitting targets.
After the show the train pulled out. We
chugged through the night, smoke and embers showering the
empty black sky like orange rain, the rollicking rolling
motion so deeply familiar it was like the train was our
mother and we all or us, no matter what age, human or not
quite, her babes, safe in her blackened steel arms, her
heart the bright burning coals of the furnace, endlessly
stoked by men with hard tarnished faces and arms.
Another town, another audience, on and on we
went, moving south, farther south then we had travelled
previously, whispers of money problems, gambling debts,
government officials not happy with their bribes whistled
through us troupers as keenly as the locomotive’s calliope
heralding our next arrival.
The field was dry as old tobacco and the
dunes that hung around it were the colour of dirty slate.
Black sand, I had never seen anything like it before. It
burned hell hot by midday. Beyond I could hear subdued
sounds of the surf as though the dunes muffled its thunder,
trapping the sound within it like a heartbeat taken
prisoner. The whole place gave me the creeps. The city was
grey concrete and ugly. New as could be, a replacement city
as a ravenous earthquake had eaten up the original one,
gobbling the picturesque Dutch colonial buildings as though
they were boiled lollies falling neatly into its vast rocky
mouth. I saw the postcards and wondered how easily us humans
could turn beauty ugly. It was a gift we seemed to have in
spades.
Aurora was vomiting into a steel bucket as I
came back from my walk inspecting our home for the next
three days. She was still as slim as a stick of liquorice
but that wasn’t going to last for long. Soon very soon, we
would have to work on changing the act. I decided tomorrow
night might be the right time for doing what I had been
thinking, plotting for the past week. I nodded and went
inside, it would have to me alone. It should be easy to
execute. One more big cat on the prowl, he would never see
it coming.
I spent the day with Aurora and Adriano
rehearsing, limbering up, stretching ourselves, checking
ropes, knots, and ladders. All good. Magus boy joined us in
the afternoon; it was so hot, a dry oven heat as though we
had landed on the doorstep of hell. Sweat trickled gently
down his pale face like dew on a lily. He looked like an
angel, his face almost too pretty for a man. I knew that was
his appeal to the crowds. This Master of illusion, with his
childish face it didn’t seem possible he could do what he
did. His speciality was creating a woman of ice out of thin
air and smoke vapour, a creature so lovely her breath sang a
siren’s song of arctic longing, he would then pull a flaming
sword from beneath his cloak, fire dancing along the sharp
steel line. He would lovingly, sensuously ever so gracefully
slice her in half, the smoky vapour rising up like a
volcanic plume. And then this wondrous woman would rise, two
halves slinking, undulating, writhing like some seductive
dancer, joining back up, becoming one and then slowly, ever
so slowly, dissolving into a waterfall mermaid of spiralling
liquid. Until all that was left was a pool of smoky
aquamarine sublimated at his feet.
It sent the crowds wild. I don’t know how he
did it. Had never seen anything like it before and let me
tell you, growing up in carnivals you get to see a lot of
strange stuff indeed. His illusion was magnificent. I was as
entranced as any other punter and as in lust with his ice
maiden as all those men with their hungry eyes and angry
hearts out there. Maybe that’s why I hated him so.
Today I pushed the hate down and let my charm
rise to the surface like soap scud on bathwater. Laughing,
good-natured, I felt his guard slip down. I even hinted at
his becoming part of the family and nudged him with my
elbow, winking as I said.
“Always room for more of us.”
His smile was gracious. “Azriel. Your
welcoming words gladden my heart.”
There was the hint of Europe in his accent,
Vienna chocolaty tones. His elegant black eyes locked onto
my green ones. We were both masters of dissembling.
“To all of us. Brothers.” I lifted my cup and
clinked Zephyr’s cup. Silver on silver. Aurora beamed her
amber hair golden in the heat haze. Peace flowed over us, a
cool breeze on this hot afternoon. The black sand that had
drifted onto the field glittered at our feet, grains of
night silting up the brown grass; I felt them under my toes,
burning the skin like specks of fallen sunlight.
After the show I invited them all for a swim,
knowing Adriano would decline, Aurora and Zephyr followed me
along the dunes. To the east the city lights twinkled and
just above the horizon a moon, yellow as sulphur candy,
laboriously as though this heat was affecting it too, began
to rise. Over the black sand, our bare feet sliding beneath
us, we reached the ocean, less black than the sand, foaming
white whispers on the breeze, the water warm, the air as
still and hot as if we were wrapped in a veil of invisible
fire. We stripped off our clothes and threw ourselves naked
into the waves. Laughing like children, and for me at least
that moment was real and as innocent as any I have had, we
splashed and swum as though we had no cares at all.
Later we moon bathed, Aurora on the sand, a
tiny bump undulated the surface of her stomach, a barely
discernable ridge of flesh. His pale hand was stroking it,
as he kissed her breasts tenderly. I turned away, the anger
rising in me like a beast awakening, hungry and ravenous.
Soon, I thought, soon I’ll let you out to
play.
Aurora fell asleep; less snow white more sun
gold on the sand, her prince beside her. I stretched, stood
and beckoned to him. He followed. My body slim yet very
muscular, his sleekly tall. Across the sand, I led the way.
I wondered what he was thinking. There was something
slightly seductive about the way I led him away, a thought I
didn’t want to delve too deeply into.
I felt it coming, a prickling beneath my
skin, a stretching of sinew, a gush of oxygenated blood
filling up the cavities between the atoms of what I am and
what I was to become. A rush of energy better than any puny
drug out there zoomed into me, I began to grow like a
zeppelin filling, becoming monstrous. It was orgasmic the
intensity of my body changing from one form into another.
Sex couldn’t compete with this at all.
I stretched my huge forepaws out. Amber on
black. I lifted my rump up into the night sky, swung my tail
and roared. Freedom. At last it was time. I turned to face
my foe, anticipating his face astonished, petrified,
quaking. Instead what I saw was something almost as unholy
as myself. A silhouette against the sky. Black on black. He
was almost indistinguishable from the night, from the sand.
Only his huge sabre teeth gleamed pure and deadly. I
shuffled backwards in astonishment.
His roar was like the coming of a Typhoon.
“We are more alike than you think Brother.”
His snarl smoky hot.
I snarled back. “Never.”
“You wouldn’t believe I was one of you would
you? How wrong you were.” He pounced at me; he was bigger
than me by at least seventy pounds. He caught me off balance
and his jaw almost clamped my throat. I punched him with a
taloned claw and heard him growl. I turned and ran I needed
to get above him, below him I was at a distinct
disadvantage. The sand ran beneath my paws as though I was
running on water, it took a huge effort to just rush myself
up to the top. I arrived just before him, we faced off on
the crest, flowing black night dissolving at our feet like
some illusion he had created.
We roared at each other. Male to male. Tiger
to panther. His teeth were huge but mine were just as sharp.
Being smaller I could twist that little bit faster. I had
miscalculated alright. Still I wasn’t going down without
inflicting as much damage as I could. I pounced and clawed
his shoulder deftly, felt the skin peeling away, fur and
blood congealing under my pads. He hugged me in his huge
forepaws and we rolled down the sloop, his back legs lifted
beneath me in a killer strike and if I hadn’t parried with
my back claws he would have disembowelled me as we spun down
the slope. My mouth was full of blood, sand and fur as
together we rolled and tumbled. The world had become shades
of dark, night dark, panther dark, dune dark.
As we felt the surface even out we both
untangled from each other and jumped back. Slightly
unbalanced as our paws sunk into the sand, we stood facing
each other; panting and breathing hard, the hot air crackled
the fur across our spines like electricity. We began to
circle.
“Your protective stance to your sister is,
I’m afraid, misguided.” His voice sleeky smooth whispered
over to me.
I growled.
“Have you heard of a man called Freud? He is
very big in Europe at the moment. His books are the talk of
society.” He purred across the sand. “His take on your
psychological turmoil would no doubt be fascinating.” I
watched as his tongue rolled over his lips and whiskers and
the base of those sword teeth.
I roared at him for no real reason except I
wanted him to shut up. He roared back. I noticed he was
slowly padding backwards, preparing himself for a leap. The
leap of death we called it. Hypnotically I watched him
recede inch by inch. I dug my back legs in; balancing
myself, grounding my body to take his weight because when he
came it would be like a train hitting.
He crouched; I could barely see him against
the sand. I felt him rise into the air like a wind.
Suddenly she was in his way, in front of me, he hesitated in
full leap and missed her face by inches. Pulling in his
talons he landed clumsily. She roared and although smaller
than both of us she had a strength and bearing that went
beyond sheer size and muscle. Formidable as only a yet to be
mother can be.
She turned and looked at me, her beautiful
tiger face angry.
“What are you two doing?” She spat. “Trying
to kill each other.”
“That was the general idea.” I hissed.
“Fools.” She turned and swiped me with her
forepaw, I felt the lash across my face, whip sharp, and the
hot blood rolling over my nose. She turned and swiped Zephyr
hard as well; I smelt his blood tainting the air.
“This ends here.” Her voice was low, almost a
kitten’s whisper. “No more. Or else.”
We both stared at her. The question coalesced
in both our minds. His and mine. We were one, united in our
lust to battle. How would she be able to stop us? Tonight
maybe but there were always other nights.
She stared at us, feline grace and feminine
intuition rolled into a pure predatory form. She knew
exactly what we where thinking.
“I have the word.” She smiled. And there is
nothing as awe inspiring as a tiger smiling. Nothing. It
turned God from a two-bit carnie scammer into an artist of
such magnitude that he was able to create such perfection in
one creature. Such perfection. And that was what I thought
as I stared at my sister just before I comprehended what she
had said.
The Word. In the beginning was the word. And
the word was life.
She had it. I thought it had been lost but
obviously Mum must’ve passed it on to her before she died. A
matriarchal gift no doubt. Passed down the feminine line.
Well that changed everything. A life behind bars was not
high on my list of what I wanted to do. And I’d be sharing
it with dad. That made me think more, wondering what he had
done to be caged up for so long now. If she had the word
well then why hadn’t she? Speculation for another time,
another place I decided.
I growled and lay down on my stomach, a token
of obedience, I could see Zephyr doing the same. Life in the
menagerie wasn’t all that sweet.
She swished her tail; it swept the sand in a
way that proclaimed she was queen. No other only her. She
strode off. As beautiful and deadly as only a tiger can be.
We slunk after her, brothers in defeat. Our tails hung down
and wiped a serpentine ridge in the sand as incongruous as
our paw prints on the dunes.
We turned and looked at each other and then
we both began to laugh, hearty laughter, mischievous as two
boys caught with their pockets full of stolen apples. Except
when you laugh as a tiger it comes out less as a laugh and
more as some strange half growl, a rasping arfing sound, a
bit like the sound a kitty cat makes when it is barfing up a
fur ball or two.
Zephyr’s whiskers glinted in the moonlight.
“Truce.”
“Truce.” I agreed. We had no choice. And all
that anger and hatred that I had been storing inside me
seemed to dissipate into the hot night air. Gone.
“Would you like a night with my ice maiden?”
He whispered. I stared at him, nose twitching.
He smiled a jaw full of white teeth against
his fur. “She exists. She is exquisite. We have a working
arrangement that suits us both. I can make an introduction
after that it’s up to you. But she is one cool dish. And she
gets real hot and steamy if you know what I mean.” His black
panther face winked at me.
Now that was a thought I could wrap my animal
mind around. Maybe life was turning out better than I had
anticipated. Keep your friends close as they say and your
enemies closer. I could feel the beginning of an interesting
friendship forming. And tonight was just right for rolling
in some ice.
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