Azrael’s Circus of the Bizarre
The Woman Who Came from Smoke
Draft 3
By: Chase L. Currie
Charon turned back to the man in all black just like his skin. “Now, my lad,” Charon said, “I just want a drink, and everyone has been telling me this was the place. Are you telling me everyone is a liar?”
“You are not allowed in, sir,” The man said firmly. “And I don’t give a shit what anyone said.”
“Come on, let’s play nice,” Charon tried to say. “My friend and I want a drink.” He tips his hat a little.
The doorman looked over his shoulder to the girl smiling back at him, trying her best to keep the cat in her arms warm. He chuckles a little, “Too young, she can’t drink.”
“No one is allowed to drink,” Charon pointed out. It was against the law for now.
“I’m not going to let you get this sweet thing drunk so you can get your grimy hands up her skirt,” the doorman said poking Charon in the chest. “Now get the fuck out of here,” The doorman made sure there poke was intense along with the last words, “Old man.”
“Ah, such’d have gone and done that, mister,” Lucille said to the man.
Charon smiled, “Want to see a magic trick?” And then before the doorman could answer the question, Charon had pulled a deck of cards from nowhere. He quickly started to shuffle the deck as if there was an invisible table under him and fan the cards out. “Pick a card,” He ordered.
“Fuck off.”
“Please Mister,” Lucille asked batting her eyes and giving him a devilish grin. “It is my favorite trick, mister.”
The doorman reluctantly took a card, looked at and then put it back into the deck. Charon winked, and the deck was gone. He showed the man his hands and then with one quick motion knocked the doorman out with a hard jab to the jaw. The black man fell to the ground before he knew what had happened and laid there in the snow. Charon open the door letting Lucille step in first, smiling from ear to ear and then dropping a black Ace of Spades on to him.
It was the card he picked
“Here’s your damn card, old man,” Charon told him and the card laid on his chest with a laughing devil in the middle of the spade. Someone should have told the doorman they used to call Charon ‘One Hit Lewis,’ back in his boxing days. Poor chap had no clue.
No one gives Lucille nor Charon a second look as they stood there in the doorway. The club was filled with people dancing, drinking and smoking. The smoke hung over the club like a laughing rain cloud waiting for pour down onto the world. The lights were kept low, and most of the lamps in the place were candles to help hide everyone’s face. The music was soft but wasn’t soft enough to allow everyone to hear everyone else even if they were all whispering.
“Where is she?” Charon asked with Lucille stepping closer to him. She was almost hanging on to his arm and shaking a little.
Charon led over to whisper into her ear, “Think of it as the stage, clown.”
Lucille closed her eyes feeling Stanley pushed his head into her chest. He knew what was going on. It was the small room filled with all the people. It made her feel as if her skin was wrong and she wanted to pull it all off. There was a weight pushing down on her mind telling her ‘everyone is talking about you and everyone sees you.’ The weight pushed deeper into her brain yelling as it when “They know what you did.”
She grabbed Charon arm tight and pulled him close. “You alright?” He asked.
“It just the stage, it is just the stage,” She whispered out loud.
“And what does the stage give you?”
“Power over them,” she said fighting back the tears burning in her eyes. “Power over what they see of me.”
“Alright, clown, now let get this job done,” Charon groaned. He pushed his way up to the bar holding Lucille by the hand as they went. When he stopped, she stays close to him, watching everyone and making sure they didn’t touch her. She couldn’t help it but wish she was back at the Circus among friends, among her new family.
They all knew about her father, about her real family. They all knew she killed him after he murdered everyone in the house. She had to kill him. She had to save herself and then she ran away to the Circus, where she would be safe from the law and her extended family.
“… Whiskey” is all Lucille heard Charon said. The glass was put in front of him and empty before the bartender had the chance to walk away. “Another,” the old Irish man said, and the bartender did as he was asked with no question.
“Here,” Charon shoved a small shot glass into Lucille pale hand. “Drink it, it’ll help with the nerves.”
The dark orange liquid sat comfortably on the small walls of the glass waiting to be free. The liquid seems to burn with sin and burn even more as it went down Lucille’s throat. It felt as if a lite cigarette was running down to her stomach. She wanted it to come back up. She wanted to never drink it all. She waved her hand beside her face trying to hold back a cough.
Charon padded her on the back, “You done good, clown, real good.”
He turned back to the bartender and asked with a hard look, “I’m looking for Daisy Thundernight, you know where she is?”
The bartender stopped what he was doing, raising an eyebrow and then asking, “What business do you have with her?”
“None of your damn business,” Charon growled, “So just pointed me in the right direction.”
The young bartender hesitates for a moment and then when he saw the irritation growing in Charon’s eyes, he pointed at a red door on the other side of the club. There was an odd green light slighting on the door as Lucille and Charon walked up to it. Charon stops to look over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching them or following them. When he felt as if no one was eying them he opened the door and stepped in.
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