Katherine Dunn - Nightmare Carnival

Leo’s apartment doubles as an office. There’s a filing cabinet and a map of Paradise, its plots numbered and listed below. There are duty rosters, invoices, and ledgers.

Leo sits with silver picture frame in hand. Lilia and Giorgio Saunderis are dressed for their wedding. Both brandish a pair of pistols.

“I thought you’d gone to university to get a degree, not a wife.” Leo puts the frame down.

“I love her.” Christos is unabashed by love. He perches on the edge of his brother’s desk.

“Did she tell you to leave college?”

“She begged me to stay on.”

Leo sighs. “Then she’s got more sense than you.”

“Why’s everyone so angry? It’s my life. Jacob’s furious.”

“He thinks you’re wasting your talent here. That you could be a physics professor, if you wanted. He spent all those years tutoring you. He never asked me for a penny in return.”

“And I’m grateful, but it’s not what I want.”

“I promised Ma that you’d have an education and a better life than she could give me.”

“She meant well but she shouldn’t have set us on such different paths. What about what I want?”

Don’t push too hard , Leo thinks, or you’ll push him away . “Okay, what do you want?”

“To come home.”

They’re both on their feet. As Leo hauls Christos into an embrace he’s struck that his brother’s not a stripling anymore. Leo’s invigorated by the strength in his brother’s arms.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Let me work for you. I’ll prove myself. You’ll like Rebecca, I promise.”

Leo pats his brother’s back. “I already do.”

Henry speeds up and slows down the motions of Rollo’s face, until he finds the part of the interview that he wants. Rollo has the physiognomy of a pugilist, not a clown.

Rollo was going through a good phase at the time. The man swings between dry and soaked. Just when Henry thinks Rollo’s got his life in order, things go wrong for him. It’s always someone else’s fault. His boss or his last wife.

“Rollo, did you get on with the happy couple?”

“Sure. I was like a brother to Christos. I brought them a puppy as a welcome gift. Rebecca named it after a dog she had as a kid. She said every dog she’d had since was named after it. She was a quirky girl.”

“Tell me about Rebecca.”

“Everyone thought she was great. She was private though. What did you find out about her?”

“Not much. I’ve found a cousin but she won’t see me. Did Leo and Rebecca get on?”

“Well enough at first. I never saw them fight but things cooled after a while.”

“Why?”

“She was attractive. Leo was a red-blooded man.”

“He tried it on with her?”

“I can’t say for sure. Power turns men’s heads. They think rules don’t apply to them. Whatever happened, Leo started to see them as rivals, with Rebecca pulling the strings. Then there were questions about money going missing.”

“Why did they continue working together?”

“Leo was a subtle, patient man, even when he was angry. He couldn’t turn Chris out. He’d promised Lil. And he saw Rebecca’s worth straight off.”

“Her act.”

“Yes.”

“I saw her. She was special.” Henry can hear the ache in his own voice.

“Yes,” the clown smiles, “but you never got close enough to feel the heat. She was sublime.”

Leo knocks on the door of the neighboring flat that belongs to Christos and Rebecca.

“I’m early. Sorry.”

“Nonsense.” Rebecca’s barefoot and gracious.

“I want to apologize for the poor welcome.” He puts down a basket and hovers by the door.

“Come in.”

She hands him a tall, cool drink, beads of moisture already forming on the glass. His mouth’s suddenly dry. He takes a sip.

“Christos was supposed to get here first to break the news but his train was delayed.”

“Why didn’t you travel together?”

“I was visiting my cousin in Lauders. I understand, you know. You’ve looked after Christos all your life. He kept all the letters you sent him while he was in college. He read them when he was lonely.”

Christos, alone. Leo’s most sensitive nerve reverberates.

“I love him too.” She touches his arm. “I’ll never hurt him.”

He looks at her naked feet, her nails the pale shade of shells. “Talk’s cheap.”

“You’ll see. I’ll prove it to you.”

Christos comes out of the bedroom. It’s too late in the day for his hair to be so disarrayed. Leo looks away and is glad when he remembers his gift.

“I’ve got you something.”

Leo fetches the basket from by the door. Rebecca opens the wicker flap and picks out the quivering body and cradles it against her chest.

“Chris said you wanted one. He’s just a mutt but he’s cute. Mainly spaniel from the look of him.”

She holds the puppy up. It’s all eyes and paws.

“He’s gorgeous. Can we call him Sam? I used to have a dog called Sam when I was little.”

“Sam it is.” Christos scratches Sam’s neck. “We’ve something else to tell you. Rebecca’s got an act of her own.”

“Doing what?” Leo’s surprised she’s one of their tribe.

“I shan’t tell you.” She kisses Sam’s head. “I’ll show you.”

“Where are you going?” Rollo follows them to the big top. “What’s going on?”

Leo looks at Rebecca for permission. She’s wearing a robe over her costume. She shrugs.

Once inside Leo dismisses the sweepers who file out, grumbling that their work’s not done. Leo sits on an upturned crate, Christos beside him, but Rollo contrives to insert himself between them, an arm around their shoulders.

Rebecca drops her robe. It lands around her feet in a way that makes Leo’s heart stop and start. He glances at Christos. His brother’s eyes are shining.

Her costume’s made of rough, fire-retardant fabric, cut and stitched into a short flared dress that skims her thighs.

She holds her right hand out to one side. The flame starts as a flicker in her palm that grows. She undulates as if rolling it up her arm and across her shoulders and then lets it come to rest in her other hand. More flames appear, one then another, not just along the path the first flame had taken but on her chest, her stomach, and her legs. They move at random, growing in size.

Rebecca tosses them into the air, juggling with rapid movements that make the fireballs look more like streaks. It looks like she’s fumbled a throw and one of them will land on top of her head but Rebecca puts her head back and opens her mouth, swallowing it. In they go, one after another. Fire’s flying from her hands as if from nowhere and she gulps them down in quick succession.

There’s a pause, in which Leo thinks she’s finished, but then smoke and sparks pour from her mouth, followed by a jet of flames that shoots twenty feet in the air. There’s a flash, then it falls, covering her from head to foot, and Leo starts forward but is restrained by Christos’s hand on his shoulder.

Rebecca claps, a single sharp sound that seems to douse the flames. Done, she awaits judgment.

“What’s in your accelerant?” Rollo asks.

“That’s my secret.”

Rollo turns to Christos, who holds up his hands.

“You can’t work here unless you tell us. There are no secrets from management.” Rollo’s looking at Leo, waiting for affirmation.

“I can do more than this, Leo.”

“May I?” Leo stands close. He touches her jaw with his fingertips.

She opens her mouth and he looks inside. Not a blister, not a mark. It looks entirely normal. Nor is a single hair or eyebrow singed. He’s not fond of fire acts or the arcana of the craft. He knows the tricks. How to harden the skin with a mixture of sulphur and alum, to which some add onion or rosemary essence. Afterward they have to soak off this toughened skin with hot wine. Then there’s what they use to coat the delicate flesh inside the mouth: concoctions of more sulphur and alum, this time with soap and carbolic acid. Rebecca’s skin is soft, not callused, and she smells sweet, not like the bowels of hell. He won’t press her to tell him her secret, not yet, not if she’s not told Christos.