The Darker Carnival (The Markhat Files) by Frank Tuttle Read Free Book Online Page B

said, putting myself between Gogor and Darla. “We’ll let you get back to your drunken stupor.”
    “Wait,” it said, in slurred, wet Kingdom. “Wait.”
    I pushed Darla through the cage door and put my back to the bars.
    As Trolls go, he was a tiny specimen. He was no taller than me, not much bulkier, and a great deal less steady on his feet. But he had a jaw full of Troll fangs and a fistful of Troll talons so when my hand went inside my jacket it came out gripping my revolver.
    “You speak Kingdom?” I asked.
    “Little,” he growled. “Whiskey?”
    I shook my head no, remembered who I was talking to. “No whiskey now,” I said. “Maybe soon, though. You ever see the living dead girl?”
    He growled. I heard a faint click as Darla cocked her hammer behind me.
    “Bad,” said the runt Troll. “Bad.” He crossed his furry arms over his chest. I vaguely remembered that passed for a mortal insult among Trolls. “Bad man.”
    “He’s not bad,” said Darla. “He wants to help her. Set her free. Return her to her family.”
    “That’s why we came,” I said. “Look. You tell us about the dead girl, and I bring you whiskey. No tell, no whiskey.”
    It took a half dozen slow blinks, but the Troll worked his way through that, uncrossed his arms, and slumped.
    “Dead girl. No more shows. Whiskey now?”
    “Not enough. She was here? Was a part of the carnival?”
    “Was here. Darker carnival. Darker.”
    “What do you mean?” asked Darla. “What is the darker carnival?”
    “After. Secret.” Tears ran from the Troll’s eyes. “Whiskey now?”
    “Yes. Whiskey now,” I said. I put my gun back in its holster. Shooting that Troll wouldn’t make it any deader than it already was. “I’ll be right back with a bottle.”
    It collapsed, sobbing and gobbling in Troll.
    I left, but didn’t bother closing the cage.
    “We should set this place on fire,” said Darla, after we placed a bottle by the snoring Troll’s head. “Or blow it up. Do you have any of that vampire gunpowder with you?”
    “We start burning every sad place we find, we’ll soon run out of matches,” I said. “Anyway, I left my gunpowder in my other pants.”
    Crowds streamed around us, laughing and eating and smiling.
    “Darker carnival,” said Darla. “Think that’s what takes place when the wives and the kids aren’t here?”
    I nodded, keeping an eye out for Gertriss and Orville. “First there’s the Dark Carnival. Then the darker. Play on words. Makes sense.”
    Darla nodded. A clown shuffled up to us, gibbering and grinning. Darla turned on him with an unblinking glare. The clown showed a flash of rare wisdom and took off after someone else.
    “So what’s next?” Darla asked. “We know she was here. Maybe she still is.”
    “You collect Gertriss and go home,” I said.
    She gave me the same look that sent the clown fleeing. Made of sterner stuff, I stood my ground.
    “Not going to happen, man of mine,” she said. “You need us here. Gertriss is a highly trained finder. And I’m a better shot than either of you.”
    “Won’t be any shooting. I’m not going to engage. Not tonight. Not alone. I just need to observe, see what this darker carnival is all about.”
    “Perfect. Then we’ll observe together. I’m so glad that’s settled.” She smiled, all sweetness and light.
    I know when to pick my battles. I wasn’t crazy about having Darla anywhere near anything that might involve the living dead, but as Mama is fond of saying, there’s a lot of daylight between I will and I did .
    We’d seen every side-show on our leg of the midway. I found us a bench and we waited.
    A few brave souls stopped by the Troll’s dark cage and shouted through the bars. If Gogor heard, he never responded, and for the first time in my life I felt pity for a Troll.
    Gertriss turned up a half-hour later with no Orville in sight. She said she’d sent him home for a nice cold bath before he succumbed to a fit of nervous