Circus of Blood
“It arched across a center pole that had been driven straight into the ground. Deep. Talon marks scarred the pole at about chest level. Something had driven it into place.
Something with claws and inhuman strength.
The sign blinked, outlined in round bulbs that stuttered into the night. Words swept across it in a flourish of black and crimson.
“Cirque du Sangre.” Sully turned to us. “I don’t understand.”
“Did you think it would be called ‘Vamps Be Here’?”
“No.”
“Circus of Blood.” Father Mulcahy ...read aloud around his cancerstick. “They might as well have.”
We stepped through the archway.
Gravel crunched underfoot.
The midway was empty.
We were all alone. Not one person darkened the street. The carnival stretched before us post-apocalyptically desolate.
Strings of lights slithered overhead, swinging low, threatening to drop and wrap an unwary neck. Smaller tents lined the walls of the midway, canvas booths sewn in ebony and crimson. The stitches were haphazard, juttering back and forth along seams like badly sutured wounds.MoreLess
Something with claws and inhuman strength.
The sign blinked, outlined in round bulbs that stuttered into the night. Words swept across it in a flourish of black and crimson.
“Cirque du Sangre.” Sully turned to us. “I don’t understand.”
“Did you think it would be called ‘Vamps Be Here’?”
“No.”
“Circus of Blood.” Father Mulcahy ...read aloud around his cancerstick. “They might as well have.”
We stepped through the archway.
Gravel crunched underfoot.
The midway was empty.
We were all alone. Not one person darkened the street. The carnival stretched before us post-apocalyptically desolate.
Strings of lights slithered overhead, swinging low, threatening to drop and wrap an unwary neck. Smaller tents lined the walls of the midway, canvas booths sewn in ebony and crimson. The stitches were haphazard, juttering back and forth along seams like badly sutured wounds.MoreLess
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