"There she is," shouted Dough Boy pointing to Margie who was trying to shrink even further into the shadows.
Grandma Doyle shuffled over to her until her face was inches from Margie’s. "Look at my hand," she said in almost a whisper.
Horrified by Grandma Doyle’s blackened fingers Margie turned her head away and squeezed her eyes shut. Grandma Doyle grabbed Margie's face tightly with her uninjured hand and pulled it back again. Margie felt dizzy and weak and Grandma Doyle's face began to swim about in front of her. But Grandma Doyle was far from finished with Margie. "Child," she said, more urgently this time. "You are quite simply the best thing that has ever come to this circus. You are a star!"
The excitement in Grandma Doyle’s voice was quite palpable now and despite their shock and horror at the events that had just unfolded, the freaks felt the excitement too.
"I have never seen anything like this before. Never. Giants, mermaids, stretchy skinned people, tattoos, fat people ... yeah, yeah; I’ve seen all those before. But YOU," she screeched, "you are a gift! A GIFT!". And with that she started dancing like a loon, hopping from one foot to the other.
"I can see it now," she said, "Roll up roll up. Come and see the world’s first and only ice queen. HOW, I hear you ask! Once a sweet and beautiful girl she fell into a frozen lake and her heart at once was turned to ice ..."
"But that’s not true," said Margie. "None of that’s true."
"It’s show business," said Grandma Doyle. "None of it has to be true. But people want to hear a story so we have to give them one."
"I need to think about this," said Margie. "I’m not so sure anymore ..."
"Take your time," said Grandma Doyle, "take your time. But not too long mind!"
It was Tatty who showed them to their wagon which was set on four large iron wheels. Like most of the other wagons it was a small wooden construction painted green and red with detailed scrollwork. Margie looked at the wagon, looked at The Giant then looked back at the wagon again. Neither said a word, although they were both thinking the same thing: how on earth would The Giant fit in
that
?
They needn't have worried. As soon as they entered the wagon it became clear it was no ordinary caravan for suddenly it seemed huge.
"Wow," gasped The Giant unable to believe his eyes.
The interior was as ornate as the exterior. A red leather seat, set into a deep mahogany panel, ran along one side of the caravan with drop down cupboards underneath. Perpendicular to this was a stove surrounded by a beautifully ornate mantle from which hung pots, pans, cups and a large copper kettle. And at the far end was the hugest bed they’d ever seen.
"I ain't never been in one of these posh ones before," he laughed. "I should bring you more often."
Margie sat on the edge of the bed and rested her head in her hands.
"Oh no" said The Giant, quickly dropping to his knees and placing his finger under Margie's chin. "Why can't I do nothing right?"
"It's not you, Giant. It's not Grandma Doyle either; she's lovely and all. I just have a bad feeling. Spider Beast said we had to go straight there ... to the Darkest of all Places."
"We don't
have
to stay."
Margie pulled The Giant's head down on to her lap and stroked his hair for a while. She was acutely aware they had a task to complete. She knew that people would be looking for her; Spider Beast had made that clear to her. Bad people too. But what if a flying machine
could
take them all the way? Their journey would be cut in half, if not more. They had to at least try.
"We do," replied Margie. "Grandma Doyle's right. We need the money to get us a flying machine. And
you
need the money for when you find your twins. Ladies like to be treated nice you know!"
The Giant smiled at the thought of being reunited with his twins.
What Margie didn't tell The Giant was that she was still being stalked by an unseen something. She had no idea what it was. What she did know was that every night when she closed her eyes she could feel it breathing down her neck and it terrified her. What's more, it seemed to be attached to her in some way; she could feel its weight on her back and shoulders all the time.
A knock at the wagon door made The Giant and Margie jump.
"Come in!" shouted The Giant.
"It’s only me," said Grandma Doyle as she poked her head around the door. Her damaged hand was now wrapped in a huge swathe of bandages. "Oh, it looks worse than it is," she breezed to Margie, whose eyes were already filled with tears. "I know you’re tired so I won’t keep you; I just thought I would drop off your advance. It’s to show you how excited we are about having you in the show." And with that she pulled out an enormous bag of coins from underneath her cape and handed it to Margie.
Margie nearly dropped the bag; it weighed more than it looked.
"I take it you’re happy with your accommodation. It’s free of course, as is everything else. Now, if there’s anything else you require just let me know."
Grandma Doyle disappeared with a wink, leaving The Giant and Margie looking at the humungous bag of money sitting on the floor between them.
The Giant emptied the bag out onto the floor. "Wow," gasped The Giant. "I ain't never seen so much money!"
"How much do you reckon we need?" asked Margie. "You know, to hire a flying machine?"
The Giant shrugged and shook his head.
Seeing the bag of money in front of her very own eyes, Margie suddenly felt less fearful. Grandma Doyle was right; this money had the potential to solve all their problems. After all, she'd barely made it to Avaricia in one piece. Could she survive another trek through the desert?
"Okay," said Margie, "let's stay for five days and after that we leave. Agreed?"
The Giant shook Margie’s hand eagerly. "Agreed."
The Amazing Ice Queen
The following morning Margie and The Giant left their wagon early and made their way across the circus ground to Grandma Doyle’s caravan.
"Morning," she shouted through the closed door. "Be out in a moment."
As Margie and The Giant waited, it quickly became clear that they – or rather Margie, was the new celebrity in town. It seemed that just about everyone and their dog was sitting out on their steps doing nothing in particular but staring at the newcomer intently. Others were standing in huddles, whispering and glancing over at the pair.
"Morning," shouted The Giant at a group of midgets, one of whom appeared to have wheels instead of legs.
Those that were talking stopped. And those that weren't looked away.
Margie rubbed her neck nervously.
"Maybe this is a mistake," she whispered to The Giant.
"They’re just amazed. They ain't never seen anything like you before, that's all."
"I dunno," said Margie looking around. "They don't look very happy to me."
"Ignore them," said a voice. It was Grandma Doyle. "They don't like change but they'll come round soon enough. Right," she chirped, clapping her hands together like a teacher, "there’s no time like the present to get you started. The gates open in two hours so there’s plenty of time for us to get your act together ... follow me!"
Margie and The Giant followed Grandma Doyle to a large (the largest in fact) sideshow stall in the entire circus. A huge sign which arched above the entrance read: WORLD EXCLUSIVE. Meet the World’s Only Ice Queen. Risk of Death. Enter at your Peril.
Margie and The Giant exchanged excited glances as they walked through the front entrance. While the exterior was decorated with images of Arctic landscapes and polar bears, the interior looked and felt exactly like an ice cave. Everything shone with an iridescent whiteness, while snow covered the floor and ice stalactites hung from the ceiling. At one end of the enclosure was a raised stage made entirely of ice (fashioned to look like an iceberg) around which one hundred seats had been arranged in a semi circle.
"You will sit up there with your back to the audience," stated Grandma Doyle. "And I’d like you to wear a dress, which I’ve had especially made for you. It will allow the public to see your back – all completely decent and respectable in other respects mind."
Grandma Doyle clapped her hands impatiently, narrowing her eye in the direction of the entrance. A short time later, Tatty came racing into the cave carrying a white garment across his arms. His head hung apologetically low. Grandma Doyle didn't seem to even notice that it was Tatty. She grabbed the dress and literally threw it in Margie's direction.
The floor length dress was quite simply breathtaking in Margie’s eyes. Embroidered with thousands of tiny silver pearls, it glistened in the light and came complete with a tall ice-crystal crown. Margie was dumbstruck. Shaking her head she could find no words with which to thank Grandma Doyle.
"What's this?" asked The Giant finally breaking the silence. He was pointing at a large wooden box. The box contained five long wooden sticks with pincers on the end.
"These," explained Grandma Doyle, "hold anything that the audience wishes to be ‘frozen’ by the Ice Queen. They use the stick to pick up a glove, a shoe, a bag or whatever it is they want to be frozen. Then they let it touch your back for the briefest moment et voila."
Grandma Doyle looked like she was about to burst with excitement. "You will be paid extra for this of course."
The Giant could barely contain his excitement either as he picked Margie up and placed her on top of the iceberg. "They say 'break a leg' in the circus. It don't really means break a leg, it means good luck!" he said before his smile vanished. "I wish I could see your show."
"Thank you Giant, I wish I could see your show too." Margie leant in closer to The Giant and lowered her voice. "Maybe tomorrow," she said with a wink and a grin.
"We'll leave you to get ready now," said Grandma Doyle herding The Giant away. "We have other exhibits to organise. If you need anything,
anything at all,
you know where I am!"
Margie changed into the Ice Queen outfit and arranged herself in the iceberg just as Grandma Doyle had demonstrated. There was something quite liberating about dressing up – about not being Margie any more, if only for a short period of time. As the world's only Ice Queen
she
was the perilous one.
She
was the deadly one. The Big Invisible was part of
her
circus, not the other way round. The one thing that was causing her the greatest trouble, was now working
for
her, not against her. Or was it?
As she placed the crown on her head and looked at her reflection in the ice she thought she heard – for a very split second – someone, or something, whisper the word
stop
in her ear ...
Spider Beast and the Emporium
Spider Beast didn’t wait to watch Margie and The Giant disappear into the desert. He didn’t have a moment to spare. He'd already wasted too much time.
As soon as the door closed, he scurried back through the maze of rooms, through the tunnels of junk and numerous doors until he reached what appeared to be a dead end in the furthest reaches of the Emporium. The room in which Spider Beast stood was cold, dark and damp and to the untrained eye appeared completely empty. If you looked closely enough, however, you would see a dusty old mirror attached to the wall. It had hung there for so long that it was covered in the same dirt and grime as the wall, and as such was barely visible. To the right of the mirror was a small crack in the wall. It was the kind of crack that would appear in any wall after a period time; the same kind of crack that probably snakes across your own wall or ceiling.
Spider Beast scuttled across the room until he stood inches from the wall and he tapped the floor three times in quick succession. Suddenly the room was filled with the sound of hundreds of voices; as though Spider Beast had been transported to a busy railway station. Men, women and children could be heard talking to one another in the same excited tone that one might expect before a performance was about to commence.
"Shhhh," said someone loudly.
Others followed suit and soon there were more people saying "Shhhh" than there were people talking.
As soon as the room was silent, Spider Beast introduced himself.
"It’s vitally important that you listen to every word I say today. We don’t have any time to spare. If you are to be saved, you must follow my instructions and do not question me. As you know we have been without The Collector for a long time now. Until she returns to us, there is no way for your stories to be extracted and therefore no way for you to continue your journey. You are here because you have been sent by the authorities to be stored away safely until The Collector returns."
A nervous murmur rippled through the crowd.
"How long will that be?" shouted someone.
"No one knows," replied Spider Beast, but time will have no meaning once you're stored; a decade will feel like a fraction of a second."
"Why can't we just live in Limbuss until she returns?" shouted another man.
"Because the people of Limbuss are in permanent limbo. They have chosen to hold onto their stories. They have chosen not to move on. If you wish to move on then you must await The Collector."
Another nervous murmur rippled through the crowd. This wasn't, of course, what any of them had expected upon dying. The first they'd known of it was arriving, dazed and confused, in Limbuss and being rounded up by some emotionless officials.
It had come as a huge shock to everyone in Limbuss when The Collector disappeared so suddenly and so thoroughly. She simply vanished out of the blue. People across the world were dying and, still lumbered with their life stories, were drifting aimlessly and confused into Limbuss, unaware as to whether they were alive or dead.
An Organisation run by Officials hand-picked by Auguste was set up to herd the newly arrived dead to the Emporium where Auguste would carry out his secret and important work storing them and their stories. If he hadn't taken the decision to create a top-secret story extraction and storage facility in the Emporium who knows whose hands the stories would have ended up in?
All of that seemed like a lifetime ago for Spider Beast. Right now he was feeling a little cheated. He'd waited a long time for The Collector to return. And now he'd been forced to let her go. At least The Darkest of the Dark would know how to handle The Big Invisible, if indeed it
was
The Big Invisible. He couldn't even be sure, but it was a risk he was unwilling to take. The Big Invisible was ruthless in its hunger; consuming souls indiscriminately and the Emporium with its precious hoard, would have been like nectar to a bee.
Until he heard otherwise he would continue to work on his own extraction solution (not dissimilar to exothermic nuclear transmutation, he thought). He was close. Very close. Seeing all those forgotten stories transformed into the most fundamental energy; the energy that fuels the universe, would make all the disappointment and worry worthwhile. He was sure of that.
Right now though he had people that needed storing. It was a drudge he resented. He wasn't a people person and while most of the deceased who came through the Emporium accepted the situation graciously, others were understandably angry and frightened.
"When you enter the machine you will be bound to the one object that you had most affection for during your mortal life," he announced. "You don't get any choice."
It never ceased to amaze Spider Beast what these objects turned out to be. Children, of course, were easy; they were mostly bound to toys, teddies and dolls being the favourite. Adults were a little more complex with items ranging from steam train piston rods to cigarette tins, lipstick holders, nails and screws.
"It is vital that you are quick," continued Spider Beast. "You have no time to waste."
No sooner had the voices whispered their approval than the crack in the wall opened up. A bright light spilled out, followed by hundreds of people. The room which had seemed so small only moments ago now seemed as wide and deep as the ocean.
"Right," shouted Spider Beast. "We’re ready. Stand back everyone, stand back." Once again Spider Beast tapped the ground three times and almost instantly the floor seemed to give way as though it was one giant trap door and out of the ground rose a great machine covered in pistons, cogs and pipes. In the centre of the machine sat a large person-sized glass container with a door. The crowd looked on in stunned silence; the brutal reality of their situation had suddenly dawned on them and a couple of individuals broke down in great heaving sobs. This wasn't what death was supposed to be like. Where was the great illuminated staircase? The great pearly gate? The trumpet fanfare heralding their arrival? Where were the loved ones calling them into the light?
"Who wants to go first?" asked Spider Beast.
Silence.
"Anybody?" he asked.
Spider Beast was used to this; he could understand their reluctance. He himself would have felt the same if he was in their position. They had no idea how long they would be held in their inanimate prison for; and the idea of being cooped up in a bottle or a cigarette tin seemed a little too much like prison. Seconds ticked by and Spider Beast became increasingly aware that he had another batch of people due to arrive.
"I’ll go first."
The voice was small and a little boy, less than five years old, stepped forward holding a shabby looking teddy bear. Instinctively the child headed for the entrance to the great glass bottle which sat in the centre of the machine. Without warning the door slammed shut and that was that. It happened in a flash; the boy and the bear became one. His spirit, his story and the toy inextricably bound and stored in the Emporium until the Collector returned.