The Ninth Nightmare

SIX Avenging Claw

Katie didn’t know what to say. She felt as if she ought to tell Springer to get out of her house, right now, and never come back. But she also felt that he had arrived here this morning with the key to the rest of her life. She had to hear him out, no matter what he was going to say to her. If she didn’t, she would never discover what she really was, or what Daisy could have been, and why she had dreamed or hallucinated about that mutilated woman in the Griffin House Hotel. For some reason that she couldn’t understand, she also felt a sense of obligation, as if it was her duty to listen to him. Maybe ‘recruitment’ was the right word.

Springer said, ‘I know that none of this is easy, Katie. It’s sickening, most of it, and very scary. But you and all of the others who are like you have no real choice. It is what you were born to do, if you were ever called.’

‘Just tell me about the circus.’

Springer stood up and walked across to the window. Outside, over the rooftops of the houses opposite, Katie could see a thick bank of orange cumulus clouds rising up, like the clouds of dust raised by a vast approaching army — still many miles away, but approaching them relentlessly. There would be a thunderstorm by the middle of the afternoon.

‘The Cistercian monks came to the village and took Brother Albrecht back to the monastery. He spent months recovering from his mutilation, but according to monastery records he never prayed again. Not for forgiveness, not for the glory of God, not for anything. In fact he swore and blasphemed so much that after less than a year the monks forced him to leave the monastery, and he had to survive by begging in the village square and showing himself off as a freak.

‘He had his entire body tattooed with illustrations of demons having sex with women, and he advertised himself as der Ursprüngliche Sohn des Teufels — the Original Son of the Devil. He persuaded a local carpenter to construct him a small mechanical cart in which he could push himself around, using the stumps of his elbows to propel himself. There are woodcuts of him in several medieval books about German mythology.’

Springer turned away from the window. ‘It wasn’t long before he became well known throughout the southern part of Germany, and he was joined by other freaks who wanted to profit from his notoriety. By the spring of the year eleven-fifty-two, he had established a traveling sideshow with more than twenty-five VSPs.’

‘VSPs?’

‘Very Special People. That’s what we’re supposed to call them these days. And it’s right that we do. They are very special. As if it isn’t hard enough surviving in this world without suffering from some hideous deformity. But of course Brother Albrecht wasn’t born without arms and legs. He couldn’t rail against his parents, or against God. All he wanted was revenge for its own sake — especially against those who had once admired him so much for his angelic looks and now crowded around him to stare at him in horror.

‘His avowed aim was to drag down the whole world to the level of a freak show. He wanted to turn it all into a circus — a world in which art and beauty were either derided or ignored, and the ugliest and the loudest and the most obscene were applauded by all.’

Katie said, ‘Seems like he’s nearly succeeded, doesn’t it? You only have to watch daytime TV.’

Springer looked at her steadily and said, ‘Yes. You’re right. That’s where it all comes from. The reality shows, the hideous art, the raucous music, the worship of trashy celebrities. It all comes from Brother Albrecht and his traveling freak show.’

‘But that was — what? — nine hundred years ago. How could the circus have survived all of that time?’

‘That was the mistake of the Pope at the time, Eugene III. He was horrified by the way in which Brother Albrecht was glorifying Satan and mocking great art and music, which, in the High Middle Ages, was almost all religious. But Eugene III was also the first ever Cistercian Pope, and he was gravely concerned that Brother Albrecht’s circus was bringing the Cistercian Order into serious disrepute.

‘Eugene III heard that Brother Albrecht’s circus was settled for the winter in a small town called Kempten-im-Allgaü, in Swabia, and he asked his friend the Duke of Swabia to kill Brother Albrecht and scatter the rest of his freaks and burn down all of their tents.

‘When the duke’s soldiers arrived at the circus encampment, however, they found only nine shivering freaks hiding in a nearby wood. The rest of the circus had vanished. There was no trace of it anywhere. No tents, no wagons, no horses, no caravans, no Brother Albrecht and none of the other VSPs. Not only that, none of the townspeople had seen them leave and there were no tracks in the snow. Only a few hoof prints, and some scattered ashes.’

‘So where had the circus gone?’ asked Katie.

‘The duke’s men tortured three of the VSPs they had found in the wood, and eventually they told him what had happened. The circus had been taken away in the same way that the woman in your hallucination was taken away. Brother Albrecht had been tipped off that the Pope was out to destroy his circus so he had taken a sleeping draft and dreamed about it — all of its tents and all of its trappings, all of its lions and its tigers and its dancing bears and its scores of assorted freaks — except those nine VSPs who hadn’t wanted to go with him. He had dreamed about it so that it disappeared from the real world.’

‘An entire circus? How was that possible?’

‘Because of the strength of Brother Albrecht’s hatred for what the real world had done to him. Because, Katie, the laws of nature are very different in the world of dreams.’

Springer paused, and then he said, ‘There was nothing that Pope Eugene could do but place a holy sanction on the circus, so that Brother Albrecht would never be able to wake up and bring it back to the world of reality. A kind of exile, if you like.

‘As of now, the circus still hasn’t been restored to its full terrible ingloriousness, but somebody is trying to bring it back to life, so that very soon we will all be dreaming about it, every one of us, every night. That hallucination you experienced at the Griffin House Hotel makes me sure of it.’

‘But what can I do about it?’ Katie asked him. ‘You said that you needed me, but how can I possibly help you?’

Springer came across and sat down on the couch next to her. No man had ever looked at her like this before. He seemed to be trying to show her that he was proud of her, but at the same time his expression was one of sympathy, even of pity.

‘Your grandmother, who used to sing that you that bird song, was a Night Warrior.’

‘Awhat?’

‘A Night Warrior. She could rise out of her physical body when she was asleep, and enter other people’s dreams.’

‘Now I know you’re pulling my chain. Come on, you’ve upset me. I think it’s time you left.’

‘But you, too, are a Night Warrior. You can enter other people’s dreams.’

‘Oh, yes? To do what, exactly?’

‘To hunt down Brother Albrecht and his circus, and to destroy it for ever. Also, to hunt down whoever is aiding and abetting him. Why do you think you had that hallucination? Why do you think you went to the Griffin House Hotel at all?’

Katie frowned at him. ‘I went there — I went there because the Renaissance Hotel called me when I was still in Sacramento and told me they had accidentally overbooked. They said I could stay at the Griffin House for the same price. They even arranged for a limo to pick me up at the airport and take me there.’

‘The Renaissance was overbooked?’ asked Springer, in mock surprise. ‘The Renaissance has more than four hundred forty rooms, as well as fifty suites.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Springer said, ‘It was I who called you, Katie, and I who arranged for you to stay at the Griffin House Hotel. Me.’

Katie stared at him in disbelief. ‘You wanted me to have that nightmare? You actually fixed it so that I would stay in that room and see that poor woman?’

‘I’m sorry. I admit it. But how else could I have convinced you that what happens in dreams is just as real as what happens when we’re awake?’

‘You frightened the living crap out of me! I have never been so scared in my entire life! And I called the police! You not only scared me half to death, you made me look like an idiot, too!’

Springer raised his hand. ‘Please, Katie, just hear me out. Do you know why your grandmother used to sing you that bird song?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Your grandmother sang you that bird song because her name as a Night Warrior was Gryferai — the Avenging Claw.’

‘What?’

‘As a Night Warrior she could fly like a falcon, so that she could hunt down her enemies from hundreds of feet up, and swoop down on them from high in the air. Let me tell you this: it was your grandmother who found one of the most destructive Dreads ever, the Black Shatterer, who could literally shatter everything that he touched — doors, walls, chairs, animals, even living people. The Black Shatterer could even smash the very air in front of him, which threatened the lives of thousands of people.

‘Gryferai found the Black Shatterer, and caught him in her claws, and she lifted him up to such an altitude that he didn’t dare to shatter her, in case he fell. He begged for his life and Gryferai said that she would consider sparing him if he shattered his evil companion the Screw-Worm. He agreed, but it was then that Gryferai deliberately dropped him over eight thousand feet. He landed on a small rocky island on the west side of Sarasota Bay and the impact caused him to smash into crystalline glass.’

‘My God,’ said Katie. She stared at Springer in astonishment. ‘Grandma actually took me out to see that island, in her little boat. Black Shatter Island, she called it, although she never told me why. We went out there two or three times — always very early in the morning, so that the rising sun used to catch it. It would glitter so bright that it would dazzle you, as if it were sprinkled all over with thousands and thousands of diamonds.’

‘So — do you believe me now?’ asked Springer.

Katie was silent for a long time. Then she said, ‘I don’t know. It all seems so totally far-fetched.’

‘You are Gryferai’s granddaughter. The Night Warrior genes tend to skip a generation, so your mother didn’t have them. But you do. You are An-Gryferai, which means the daughter of Gryferai’s daughter.’

‘And what does that mean? I can fly? I can catch evil villains and drop them into Sarasota Bay?’

‘Yes,’ said Springer. ‘You can.’

‘By the way, why did she drop him? I thought he promised to shatter his evil companion for her. What was his name? The Screw-Worm?’

Springer smiled. ‘She dropped him because she was sure that he wouldn’t really do it. And she dropped him because she knew that she would probably never get a chance like that again. Gryferai’s motto was grijp het ogenblik, which means “seize the moment.”’

Katie said, ‘I want to believe you. I really do. But this is all so incredible. It’s like finding out that your parents aren’t your real parents. No, it isn’t — it’s much more disturbing, even than that. It’s like having your whole life turned upside down.’

‘I can appreciate how you feel,’ Springer told her. ‘Let me see if I can convince you.’

He held out his hand. Katie hesitated and then she took it, and stood up. Springer led her across to the large pine-framed mirror which hung on the wall beside the front door. He positioned her directly in front of it, and stood close behind her like a fashion stylist.

‘You’re awake now, so I can only use my powers of suggestion to show you what An-Gryferai looks like. But when you go to sleep, and rise up out of your body, this is what you will become, for real.’

Katie stared at her reflection. At first she could see nothing unusual, only herself, still looking tired, with her hair sticking out. But then she became aware that a shadowy outline was forming around her, swimming in the air like ghostly blood-clots. Springer closed his eyes and gradually the outline became clearer and clearer. Soon she appeared to be wearing a helmet — a helmet shaped like the head of a giant falcon, with amber lenses for eyes and a long curved beak. Her entire body was gradually covered in soft brown feathers, except for a blaze of white feathers on her breasts. Behind her, she could make out two huge wings, both of them spread wide, with a span of more than twenty feet.

Springer opened his eyes. ‘Lift up your hands,’ he told her.

Slowly, she raised her hands, and saw that attached to both of her forearms was an intricate arrangement of metal rods and pulleys, and that each of these mechanisms operated a huge metal claw.

‘Try them,’ Springer urged her, and she found that when she squeezed her hands, the rods and the pulleys opened and closed the claws, and rotated them, and locked them. Every movement was accompanied by a complicated clicking sound.

‘The power of each of An-Gryferai’s claws is over seventy-five thousand pounds, which is more than the jaws of life the fire department uses for rescuing people from wrecked automobiles. An-Gryferai can use her claws to cut through the roof of a car, or cut off a man’s head, even if he’s wearing armor. At the same time her claws are so finely controllable that she can pick a flower with them, or pluck out a single eyelash.’

Katie turned her head from side to side. The falcon helmet was handsome and streamlined and fierce, and it gave her an extraordinary feeling of strength and confidence. This is me, she thought. It’s unbelievable, but this is me. I am An-Gryferai. I am a Night Warrior.

‘Well?’ said Singer, with that faint, beguiling smile.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ Katie told him. ‘I’m totally overwhelmed.’

Springer laid one hand on her shoulder. ‘Look out of the window,’ he said. ‘No — don’t turn around, because you’ll lose the illusion that you’re An-Gryferai. Look out of the window that you can see reflected in the mirror.’

Through the window, Katie could see the red-flowering bushes in her front yard, and the tall yucca trees outside Mr Tomlinson’s house opposite. She could see Mr Tomlinson in his baggy khaki shorts, trimming the edges of his lawn; and in the distance, at the intersection of North Bay Road and West Forty-fifth, a woman in a short yellow dress pushing a baby stroller.

‘Now focus on that woman,’ said Springer.

Katie narrowed her eyes and peered at the woman intently. As she did so, the woman appeared to come nearer and nearer, as if Katie were looking at her through a zoom lens.

‘Keep focusing,’ Springer coaxed her. ‘An-Gryferai can see for miles and miles, in the sharpest detail.’

Katie kept her eyes fixed on the woman, and after only a few seconds she could clearly make out that she was young and Hispanic, with a plump oval face and heavy unplucked eyebrows, and that she was wearing a yellow headscarf to match her dress and a necklace of large orange-and-green beads. She could also see the baby in the stroller, a chubby little girl in a pink gingham romper suit, waving a pink plastic rattle and furiously kicking her legs. She could hear the rattle quite distinctly.

She turned to Springer and said, ‘That’s amazing. It’s like she’s standing right outside the window.’

‘An-Gryferai’s eyes have an effective range of more than ten miles,’ said Springer. ‘She also has highly acute hearing. She is the eyes and ears of the Night Warriors, as well as a fearsome fighter in her own right. When the Night Warriors go looking for Brother Albrecht and his freak show, her natural abilities will be essential.’

‘What do I have to do?’ Katie asked him. ‘And when?’

‘Tonight,’ said Springer. ‘Before one a.m.’

‘Tonight? But I have absolutely no idea what to do.’

Springer handed her a slip of paper. ‘Before you go to bed, read these words out loud. Once you’ve recited them, you won’t have any trouble dropping off. Then — once you start sleeping — your dream self will rise out of your waking self. I will be waiting for you, to guide you.’

‘But these claws… I don’t know how they work yet.’

‘You will, when you become An-Gryferai. You will have all of her knowledge and all of her skills.’

Katie kept on staring at their reflection in the mirror. She had never felt like this in her life. Excited, scared, so pumped up that she could hardly breathe.

‘Just tell me this,’ she said. ‘Is it going to be really dangerous? I mean, what if something happens to me when I’m An-Gryferai? What if I meet somebody like the Black Shatterer and he hurts me?’

‘It depends on how badly,’ said Springer. ‘I won’t lie to you, Katie, some Night Warriors do get seriously injured, and it can have an effect on their waking bodies. Some Night Warriors have been killed. Not many, but some.’

‘What happens then?’

‘Then, their real-life bodies never wake up.’

‘Ever?’

‘Never. It’s like they’re in a coma for the rest of their life.’

They sat and talked together for another half hour, until it was time for Katie to go to the retirement home in Coral Gables. She had to make a progress report on several of the residents, especially Mrs Gladys Sweetman, whose senile dementia had been worsening in the past three months, until she no longer recognized her own daughter.

Springer said, ‘Whenever he wanted new attractions for his freak show, Brother Albrecht used to send out his agents into the towns and villages of Swabia, looking for people to deform, especially women. Deformed women were always very popular with the crowds who came to his circus, particularly if they performed degrading sexual acts.

‘His agents would creep into people’s houses at night and commit the most atrocious acts of mutilation. Those women who didn’t die from shock or loss of blood would be carried away to join the freak show. There was no point in them trying to escape. Where else could a woman go if she had no arms and no legs, or if her face had been cut off and replaced with that of a dog, or if she and another woman had been inextricably sewn together?’

‘My God,’ said Katie. ‘How did Brother Albrecht get away with it?’

‘Because this was the Middle Ages and there was no law enforcement in the way we understand it now. Apart from that, Brother Albrecht’s circus was hugely popular, even if the Pope wanted to close it down. Before the Duke of Swabia came to break it up, it had traveled all over Europe, and as far as Russia, and it made Brother Albrecht a very wealthy man. Thousands of people flocked to see the Centaur who had the upper body of a woman and the lower body of a horse. She would be covered by a stallion several times a day for the entertainment of the crowds. Then there was the Human Cockroach, a young boy with six arms instead of legs, who would publicly eat handfuls of excrement. And so many more, each one more disgusting than the last.

‘When Brother Albrecht dreamed it away, the whole circus went into a kind of suspended animation, but I can only guess that his intention was to bring it all back to life one day — and sooner, rather than later. I doubt if he realized that it wouldn’t be revived for so many hundreds of years.’

‘But if the circus was so disgusting, why would anyone want to revive it?’

‘I don’t know, to be frank. Why does anyone stub out cigarettes on children’s arms, or beat women within an inch of their life? Why does anyone commit rape, torture, or homicide? Why do people spray graffiti on beautiful buildings, or throw acid at famous works of art? There’s a very dark side to human nature and whoever is trying to bring Brother Albrecht’s circus back to life has darkness in spades.’

‘How is he going to do it? Do you have any idea?’

‘Not entirely. But we’re pretty sure that the Griffin House Hotel has always been central to this revival. In seven of its bedrooms — yours included — nightmares of mutilations and murders are imprinted in the walls. Between nineteen thirty-six and nineteen thirty-eight, Gordon Veitch stayed in each of those rooms. What we don’t yet understand is what he was trying to do.’

‘But Gordon Veitch isn’t likely to be alive today, is he?’

‘It’s possible, if he’s become a Dread. A Dread is a kind of a ghost which exists partly in dreams and partly in the waking world, as I do. On the other hand, it might be somebody else altogether, trying to carry on where Gordon Veitch left off. It will be up to the Night Warriors to find out, and track him down, and stop him.’

At a quarter of nine, Springer said that it was time for him to go. Katie opened the front door for him. The cumulus clouds were closer now, and a warm, fretful wind was blowing. In the far distance, over the Gulf, she could hear the rumbling of thunder.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Springer, taking hold of both of Katie’s hands.

‘Sorry for what? If it’s my destiny to be a Night Warrior, then it’s my destiny.’

‘You haven’t yet entered anybody else’s dreams. You may not feel quite so sanguine about it when you do.’

‘Well, we’ll see. I’m off to visit my dementia patients now. I think I prefer your kind of madness to theirs.’

Springer said, ‘I do look like Mr Flight, don’t I?’

‘What?’

‘Your music teacher, from Nautilus Junior High. You liked him a whole lot, didn’t you? Which is why I came here looking like this.’

He raised his hand in a little salute and walked away down the path. Katie was about to call him back and ask him how he had known about Mr Flight, and more to the point, how he had managed to look almost exactly like him. But then she thought: leave it, maybe you don’t really need to know.