*****Jacob & Allura Move to Part 1*****

So Jacob followed Allura into the night.  She had changed her appearance to become something even more alluring.  The Phoenix transformed once again.  Glitter.  Captivating brightness. Shinning.  The little bird on her shoulder had metamorphosed too, matching its owner�s shifting appearance.  Its feathers silver and gold now.  Its eyes a whirling kaleidoscope of reds, greens, and purples. 

Calliope carnival music accompanied them, drifting on the night air from near the entrance.  Vincent believed in authenticity, so no recorded carnival music at the Carnival Macabre, this was the real deal, pumped from a 19^th century, steam-driven calliope mounted on a carved, painted and gilded wagon pulled by horses.   A kid, a young boy, ran past them holding a half-eaten cloud of pink cotton candy. 

�So you�re off to set a trap.  But where, and for whom may I ask?�    

Jacob glanced at that feminine hand on his shoulder.  There was a warmth there, like a heat pad.  Or maybe like one of those compounds you rub onto the skin that causes the heat to rise.  Curious.  He wondered briefly what it might be like to� He glanced to her full lips, tempted.  But there wasn�t time, not quite yet.  After all this was over.  When Allura was safe. 

Jacob�s world was in turmoil. He was betraying Vincent�s trust, the man who had pulled him up out of the muck that was his life.  Jacob would no doubt be back in prison by now, for that killing in Arkansas if not something else.  The murder in Little Rock would have been a bum rap, but murder wasn�t outside of Jacob�s play book.  He had no problem killing a man if the circumstances warranted it, if the man deserved it.  Just as he had no problem with other crimes, so long as his friends didn�t get hurt in the process. 

Perhaps worse than crossing Vincent was pissing off Rosalie.  They had an off again, on again long-running affair.  If she knew he was thinking about seeing another woman, there�d be hell to pay.  So why was he thinking the things he was thinking?  Call it a weak or flawed character, or maybe it was just selfishness, but there were no truly hard and fast rules for Jacob.  And he wasn�t one to settle in any one place for long.  He was by nature a drifter, in location but also in character.  Perhaps his time at the Carnival Macabre had run its course. 

�Trust me� she said.  �I�m inclined to do that.  Do you have a plan?�     

Jacob glanced behind them, searching for Vincent or one of his minions.  There were too many devoted followers in this place.  And if he and Allura were overheard� well, Jacob didn�t want to think about the consequences.  They appeared to be alone, although shadows were all around them, potentially concealing that which could not be seen.  Jacob took Allura by the arm and led her into one of those shadowed retreats, in back of the big tent where the best of the magic shows were performed. 

�Yes, I�m saying it is dangerous.  For you in particular.  Vincent is fixated on you.  Haven�t you seen the hunger in his eyes when he looks at you?  It�s not a sexual hunger, either.�  Jacob didn�t even know if Vincent was a sexual being.  Jacob had never seen him show any sexual interest in another human being.  He appeared male, but exactly what he was or whether gender had any meaning to him was a mystery.  �He wants you, your essence, your soul or whatever.�  Jacob worriedly ran his fingers through his hair.  �You don�t understand.  When he changes, in the process and for a short while he becomes nearly omnipotent.  I don�t know exactly who or what you are, but trust me, you won�t be able to resist him.  Vincent will swallow you whole, just like that snake back there.  Just like any human being within five miles of the carnival, except for the performers and carnies, the people he needs to operate the Carnival Macabre.�

The bird had the beak of a raptor, and its talons were designed for ripping flesh.  But its feathers encompassed all the color of the rainbow, and it glowed, effervesced.  �Interesting choice,� Jacob murmured.  He glanced at Vincent.  In a way, yes, the Carnival Macabre already had a Phoenix.  It was Vincent.  The Phoenix is essentially immortal in that it is reborn periodically, arising from the ashes of its predecessor.  Vincent would arise from the ashes of Lancaster, California.  The little bird pierced Jacob with its stare, then tilted its head back and shrieked. 

The bird�s call drew the attention of others.  Rowena, the rubber girl as the other carnies called her, and her audience of two girls and a boy, looked their way.  One of the girls clapped her hands in delight and came running to see what she thought was yet another astounding carnival attraction.  But the bird snapped at her and hissed. 

Jacob smiled at the girl, �This one is not quite ready for prime time.  Sorry.�  Meanwhile, Vincent was losing interest, and he looked somewhat uncomfortable.  Jacob surmised correctly that it had to do with his upcoming transformation.  Growing pains.  How uncomfortable it must be for a butterfly to be trapped inside of a chrysalis, waiting to fly.  Dreaming of sunshine and flowers.

�If you�ll excuse us, there are a few more things I wanted to show Allura.�  Vincent was already drifting away, suddenly distracted.  The teenage girl and her friends were disappointed.  But even at that age disappointment is a well-engrained lesson.  Mick Jagger had once sung you can�t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you get what you need.  This girl and her two friends wouldn�t even get that if they happened to still be in Lancaster when the re-energization occurred.

Jacob was pretty sure he knew why Vincent was happy to see the girl.  He wanted her.  Not in the way most men want her, and Jacob was certain most men did.  No, Vincent wanted her power, her vitality, her very being.  Vincent wanted her soul. 

As she playfully feigned a swoon onto Jacob�s shoulder, her golden tresses brushing his arm, Jacob bristled at the thought.  For the first time, and surprising himself, he felt regret at what might happen during Vincent�s re-energization.  Before, it had just been the hapless marks.  These high desert dwellers who trudged through their lives with all the enthusiasm of a zombie, and with about as much purpose or contribution to society.  They were better off being a part of Vincent, being part of something bigger than their meager, pathetic existences.  But this girl was different.  She was special and beautiful.  Perfect, yet powerful.   Jacob resolved then and there to make sure she was nowhere near the Carnival Macabre when Vincent transformed himself.

Jacob realized Vincent was watching him as these thoughts churned and coalesced into resolve in his mind.  Could Vincent read his thoughts?  Jacob had heard that Vincent�s powers ebbed and flowed in the days before the transformation.  Perhaps it had flowed in the direction of telepathy, which at the moment would be very bad, indeed, for Jacob.

So he tried to mask his intentions. He smiled winningly, �I was just showing Allura some of the Carnival�s attractions.  I�ve been doing my best to convince her that we are so much more than just a roadside circus consisting of mundane side shows.�  He glanced at the girl as rain pattered and pooled on the canvas tent above them, �I don�t want to characterize myself as a recruiter, but Allura has talents that the Carnival Macabre could most definitely benefit from.�  

A Sidewinder pushed its way under the tent siding and performed its unusual looping, side-winding locomotion until it coiled at Vincent�s left foot; its forked black tongue moving in and out, in and out, tasting the moist air.   

�Good guess.  Or a creative one anyway.� One of the boys tried to lift the lid on the aquarium, apparently in need of a more intimate experience with the thing.  It watched in hungry anticipation, but alas, the lid was securely locked down.  The carnies knew better than to leave the cage unlocked.  The turtle/octopus thing, just like turtles in this world, was capable of waddling about on land � walking on its many hands. 

�Actually it eats most anything it can get its pale mitts on, as long as it�s alive and moving.  We tried roadkill, but it won�t take it.  But the Carnival doesn�t have much of a budget for live animal feed. So we answer adds for free puppies and kittens.  That�s also how we feed the boa constrictor used in the hooch show.�  Most people would be shocked by this news.  But Allura wasn�t a person, exactly, or at least not a typical one. 

Their next stop was the ten-in-one, which was basically a row of tents and carnival wagons set up alongside each other.  The marks walked along a center lane to gawk at the freaks and geeks on either side, that and the minor magic acts.  Jacob and Allura stopped at a contortionist�s booth.  It was a girl dressed in orange and black tights that Jacob knew to be 14 years old.  Her name was Rowena. She was twisting her body in impossible ways, bending her legs and feet around her back so she could wiggle her toes in front of her eyes.  Then she did the splits and spun around on one toe like a ballerina.  Two girls and a boy, probably about the same age as Rowena, were watching her raptly. 

Her hand was like a flower.  Delicate, lovely.  But he kept expecting to feel the prick of thorns.  A brief thunder storm had rolled through earlier, leaving the desert smelling of reinvigorated, formerly withered life.  Jacob knew the moist ground would bring out the scorpions, centipedes, and snakes.  As they walked, a kangaroo rat hopped out of their way.  Perhaps a snake was in pursuit.  They�d already moved three sidewinder rattlesnakes from the carnival grounds.  On this wet night, that number could triple. 

The rain had been a harbinger, a metaphor, for Vincent�s coming transformation.  Life from the desiccated desert sands.  New life from Vincent�s fading light.  Like a snake shedding its skin.  Followed by venomous, crawling things.

The crowd was thin on this evening.  Very thin.  Perhaps the storm had kept the marks away.  As they walked, Jacob pointed out the various attractions, �Over there are the sideshows � the freaks and geeks, the two-bit magic acts.  The centerpiece is the ten-in-one, ten shows for the price of one, in which the marks get to view midgets, giants, the deformed, including an hermaphrodite, as well as tattooed people, fat people, and human skeletons.  One such human skeleton � Mac, is married to our fat lady, Louise.�  He grinned, �What do they say?  Opposites attract.�

�But the sideshows also include a nice single-O, the Water Creature.  It�s set up in a 200-gallon aquarium.  It looks like it could be a hybrid between an octopus and a turtle.  But it�s real.  Vincent says he brought it here from another dimension.�  Jacob opened the tent flap and they stepped inside.  Three boys had their hands and noses pressed to the glass of the aquarium, intently examining the creature, which was intently examining them back.  It sported a turtle�s carapace, black and shiny, from which sprang a tangle of tentacles and three eyes on stalks that swiveled to take in its artificially small world.  At the end of those tentacles, instead of suction cups, were small, delicate hands, each with six fingers, that grasped at the glass, hoping to find purchase with the small human hands just on the other side of its cage.

She was elusive.  Of course she was.  Jacob was quite certain it was in her nature.  As well, there were no doubt things about herself she wished to conceal, things better not revealed.  Jacob understood that perfectly, as there was much about himself that he had no intention of sharing with others. 

The little smoke snake coiled into a bracelet on her pale wrist.  But its eyes were fierce with alertness; its fangs now hidden yet in full readiness.  She had taken the smoke and made it her own.  This slithering creature was no longer a construct of Jacob�s.  The girl had pyrokinetic abilities herself.  And a flair for creativity. 

�You know, someone of your� eh, talents, might have fun here in the Carnival Macabre.  I�m not suggesting you join us, as in a contract with Vincent.  That would be beneath you, I�m sure.  But you might enjoy dabbling.  Making guest appearances.  Did you know we have a self-ressurectionist among our ranks?�  Lawrence had been scarce of late, but his performances were always well-attended by the marks, and were especially lucrative for the Carnival Macabre.  �And a shape-shifter too.  Not to mention a few witches, magicians, Rosalie the vampire, and others with unusual abilities.  The Carnival Macabre is much more than just a roadside amusement.  The carnies here are the real deal, and the shows are replete with magic.  Barnum and Bailey is a farce in comparison.  Our magic acts make David Copperfield and Penn & Teller look like amateurs.�

Jacob frowned imperceptibly as he puffed on his pipe, and considered her words.  Jacob, fighting the good fight?  Not likely.  Although there�d been a time, back in his youth, when he had been na�ve and stupid.  After 9/11 he had briefly considered becoming a mercenary - going to Iraq and single-handedly taking out Saddam Hussein and all his generals.  With smoke screens and his ability to throw fire balls he might have busted his way into Baghdad, but he would have been machine-gunned down before he got anywhere near the palace.  He wasn�t a damned superhero, no Captain America or Iron Man.  The thought of himself as a hero, let alone a superhero, was ludicrous.

�No, my place is right here.  I�m a freak, and this is weirdsville.  There�s no place for freaks like me out there in the real world.   Trust me on that.  I tried living out there.  It� didn�t work.�  If Jacob�s only freaky trait was pyrokineticism, maybe he could make it work outside the Carnival Macabre.  But that was just the tip of the iceberg.  He was a severely damaged human being.  Twisted. 

�But enough of me.  You say you have a family business?�  The smoke above his head portrayed a classic Buick.  �Used cars?�  He mused with a capering smirk.  Then the smoke morphed into a casket, �Or perhaps you come from a family of morticians,� he said darkly.  Jacob glanced again at her ever-changing fingernails.  �No, of course not.  You�re a cosmetician, from a long line of cosmeticians.�  He laughed, the laugh turning into a cough as he choked a little on the pipe smoke.