Amber by Dan-Dwayne Spencer (e book reader .TXT) 📕

We passed the Hoochie Coochie Girls and the Tattooed Man placards. All their frontmen were working the crowd. I whispered to Flower, “Where did all these people come from?”

“Look at them carefully. What do you see?”

I scanned the crowd closest to me. A few of the men were barefooted and wore overalls, while others were decked out with slicked-back hair, 501s, and leather jackets. Finally, a few were dressed in modern Nehru jackets, bell bottoms, and beads. The women were even more diverse. One woman wore a flimsy knee-length, backless dress covered with layers of sparkly fringe. Her hair was cut in a bob and on her head, she wore a small toque hat with a large feather protruding from the hatband. The woman next to her was wearing a pillbox hat with a tiny veil covering her cat-eye sunglasses. “Some of these people have been here for a long time—a very long time. But a few are wearing hip clothing. Like maybe they just arrived.”

“Exactly. Most of the rubes, I mean, the carnival-goers, have been here since the curse fell. But every year a few more succumb to temptation and end up trapped—forever.” She squeezed my arm, and I thought a tear welled up in her eye. “Some of them probably came in the main gate by the big top. The allurement is stronger there.”

I knew what she meant by temptation. I had felt the carnival’s attractive draw bidding me enter and how it calmed my fears. In more than one way, this trip was turning out to be a revelation. But, as stunned and disturbed as I was by the fact Flower was the Flechia from the carnival story and possibly my dream, something in the atmosphere was like a tranquilizer keeping my responses from being too emotional. I should be completely freaked out, my nerves at DEFCON one, but it was easy to control my urge to bolt back to the van. I casually replied, “I thought we came in the main gate.”

“No. We came in the back gate. Phoenix wouldn’t put the clock by the main gate. He doesn’t want people to know it’s here—like it would matter.” She bit her lip. “Still, some might get curious why it repeats the hour between 11:00 and 12:00 over and over again. The more people he traps here, the greater his power grows. Someday, if he harvests enough souls, he may become powerful enough to break his oath.” She looked worried.

“Why didn’t you tell me you are Cumberland’s daughter?”

She nodded, “I thought it best to take everything one step at a time instead of piling everything on you at once. Now, there’s not much more to my story.” She sighed and looked away. “I’ll tell you everything if you want to know, but it must wait until after we get out of here. Right now, let’s find Phoenix and get our business over with.”

We passed a snake woman standing out in front of her exhibit dancing with a six-foot python. Next to her booth, another attraction with closed doors and a painted canvas. It advertised The Sightless Child Who Sees All, probably some sort of magic trick.

Seth announced, “Here we are, The Prison of Passion. This is Phoenix’s exhibit. Mr. Cumberland wasn’t going to let him get away without taking part.”

Flower started to ask, “Even though he—”

But Seth interjected, “Yeah, even though.”

Seth held the tent flap open so we could walk in. I followed Flower. Even with the calming effect the carnival had on me, my nerves shot up to DEFCON three. The tent flap closed behind us.

The tented ceiling was vaulted to accommodate a series of suspended bars and swings; to me, it looked like some kind of acrobatic rigging. The lighting was dim except for a bright spotlight illuminating the center of the room. What appeared to be a winged man with skin white as porcelain, wearing a white linen tabard, belted at the waist, lay prostrate on the ground. His feathered wings, a mass of violet, gold, blue, and crimson, covered his naked arms, sides, and legs. He raised his beautiful face, allowing his long blond hair to cascade—flowing across his shoulders. When he saw us, he drew himself up and stood erect. The angel was a good ten feet tall with bands of silk wrapped around his wrists like shackles. Chains of satin and velvet were sewn to his wristbands; they trailed down and latched to a small iron ring staked to the middle of the floor.

“Behold,” the angel said. “Did you come to see the bonds I have forged upon myself? Each link is the physical representation of my love and my oath.” He tilted his head back into the light and for an instant, his wings shimmered. I heard the distinct sound of crystal chimes tinkling and my skin tingled. I closed my eyes when a perfume-like fragrance wafted through the tent. It must have been secreted by his fluttering wings. Instantly, I identified the aroma as lilac and musk. I knew it because it smelled like Brenda Beverly’s math class. She taught ninth-grade remedial math, tenth-grade geometry, and always kept a candle burning. Suddenly, I felt warm and comfortable.

Opening my eyes, I glanced at Seth standing by me. He beamed with the unmistakable expression of admiration when only moments before he held contempt for the angel.

“Stop it, just stop,” Flower exclaimed. “You know, since you bound yourself to the Carnival, your charms do not affect me. Your power wanes because of your oath, and your conjuring won’t have any effect on my friend either.”

“Then your friend is special indeed.” Phoenix beckoned me with his hand. “Come forward, friend of Flechia, so I may see you better. Are you gifted like my Lady-Love?” His voice took on an uncanny resonance—he fluttered his wings again.

I stood still, refusing to obey his command. I had