A/N Okay, I'm skipping ahead to the circus. I won't spend much time there (sorry, but I have no ideas) so if you want more about his time there you'll need to review. Mwahaha…
So, please read. And since I forgot last chapter: I don't own anything you recognize as canon. I own Coldrim and Mr. Frezzick (sadly). That's it. I own no blue, fuzzy elves or demons. Yeah…I won't be saying that again either [unless that miraculously changes]. It hurts too much.
I just realized that this is a really short chapter. (It's because I split it to make more. I figured that was easier than just updating...a lot of pages. This way I can edit the other 30 with your critique!!! *hint*hint*)
Kurt found the circus without trouble. Master Coldrim had made sure the directions were clearly written and described for his visitors and he'd even added notes personally to Kurt's map. He was hired before he even opened his mouth.
Within a few days he was one of their best performers. His natural agility surprised everyone, including himself, and he discovered a satisfaction that came from watching someone's face shift to an expression of dumbfounded surprise. He enjoyed travelling Germany, having never left his small town before. He loved to entertain people, people that saw his appearance as a gift or a costume, whichever. Kurt juggled, danced, and performed every night, practicing even in his sleep. Coldrim loved him, too, always flaunting him for the customers, directing their attention to his flawless skills and hard work. The Incredible Nightcrawler…It was a dream come true.
Coldrim was a very strict man, but he had a twinkle in his right eye, behind his monocle, that seemed to make that all right. At first, he'd scared Kurt for reasons he couldn't explain…maybe it was the way he hovered near him, much closer and longer than any other human. The unexpected acceptance of his appearance pleased him, but it also made him uneasy. He managed to bury that feeling, focusing instead on the work he had to do. Ringmaster Coldrim always made sure Kurt trained to the very best of his ability and he always rewarded him for his hard work. It was more than anyone had done for him, though his parents had tried for years. He owed Coldrim everything, his fame, his health, and most of all his newfound confidence.
That's why Kurt was sad when he had to leave.
"Thank you for all ov your halp, Master Coldrim." Kurt said with a faint smile on his face as he placed the last scrap of clothes into his small satchel. He was a little taller now, lean and bluer than ever. His hair had grown out a bit, and he kept it in a squire's ponytail when he wasn't performing. His muscles rippled slightly, his body loose with energy that he'd been developing for the past twelve months.
"It is no trouble, young friend." Coldrim replied, his customary twinkle dancing in his right eye. "You have been a wonderful addition to our show." He paused, handing Kurt his small pouch of earnings. "Are you sure I can't convince you to stay?"
Kurt hesitated. It would be so easy to just stay. He could earn even more money if he came with Coldrim to England. But Emily would miss him…and there was no guarantee he'd ever find his way back. "I am sure. I need to visit my family, they vill be very vorried about me." Kurt smiled apologetically as he stepped through the curtain. "Besides, I promised I vould come back."
"Of course. Another time, then Kurt. Remember," he paused, the monocle on his right eye flashing. "…you're safe here."
Kurt paused, but Coldrim was already back inside.
The trip to town was made without incident, Kurt whistled to himself as he walked, admiring his uniform in shop windows as he walked. I need to cut mein hair… He thought to himself, running a hand through it. Mother does not like it very long. He grinned and felt the pouch in his pockets. There was plenty there, surely enough to help pay for Emily's treatment.
Emily. Kurt's heart ached at the thought of her. His little foster sister had been his very best friend for as long as he could remember. She loved to play with him, whenever and however she could, but her fragile health made such things…difficult. He stopped when a glimmer caught his eye. He leaned closer, pressing a three-fingered hand to the glass as he peered into the store. A tiny golden locket rested on a pillow inside the store. His golden eyes softened as he looked at it, tracing the rose etched into its surface, remembering Emily. He made his decision. Squaring his shoulders and adjusting his costume he marched into the store, coins bouncing in his pocket.
"I want him back." Coldrim snapped. His monocle flashed angrily in the firelight. "He's the best thing that's happened to this circus since we lost our last freak."
The sallow man behind the ringmaster spat on the ground nonchalantly. "Whatev', sah. We'll git yer blue fuzzer back hea as quick as a fallin coin…catch mah drift, sah?"
Coldrim turned to glower at him. "Your pay is in the case. Get me the demon and I'll triple it. And Mr. Frezzick…!" Frezzick paused, almost out the door. "Remember, if the police get involved or anything…extravagant occurs…I will have to report you."
"Unnerstood, sir." Frezzick ran. After a few minutes, he spat on the ground. "Ah hate him." He muttered before turning his attention to the case. A grin wormed across his greasy face. "Okay, boys!" He called into the forest. "We gotta job tah do!"
Coldrim leaned on the desk, one hand lifting to delicately brush against his monocle. His low, dangerous voice rang with quiet, maddened laughter. "Five more minutes with him…five minutes alone…and he won't ever leave. Never again will he walk from here under his own power."
Kurt stepped out feeling light as a feather. The clerk had been a regular circus goer, and The Nightcrawler Act was his favorite. He'd even discounted Kurt's special purchase. Kurt grinned, patting his purse with a distant glow in his eyes as he turned to walk down the street again.
A large hand landed on his shoulder.
"Hey. Are you the Incredible Nightcrawler?"
Kurt turned. A very large man stood behind him, his eyes hidden beneath huge brows and a shaggy beard. Kurt let a smile onto his face, although his stomach had done a backflip in surprise. "Ah…yes? Yes, I am." He bowed. "Nightcrawler at jour service."
"Can you come with me? I want some friends to meet you."
Nightcrawler frowned. "Vell…" Uneasiness slipped into him automatically. Something didn't feel right. Then pride swept in as he recalled the clerk. This man was probably the same. Ah, vhy not? I can be vamous for von more day, right? "Of course I vill come. As long as I am not late for ze boat."
The big man nodded, his expression still frozen in a frown.
Maybe it is stuck zat vay? He chuckled to himself as he followed the man around the corner.
Since he was behind the man, he didn't notice for a moment that they had turned too soon to be on the next street. A quick glance around revealed the common filth of an alley. The uncertainty returned full force. The big man turned around and Kurt stopped. "Um…vhere are jour friends?" He asked. The man pointed over Kurt's head. Two more men appeared at the end of the alley. Kurt twitched. "Oh."
"Far as you go, freak." One of the men growled.
"Excuse me?" Kurt managed, backing up a little and bumping into the first man.
"We don't like your kind. Get out of here. Demon."
Kurt froze. That word. A million memories. Demon.
"I am not a demon." Kurt whispered, his voice catching halfway through.
The ground slammed into his face…or was it the other way around? He rolled onto his back, shocked yellow orbs staring up at the men. He'd been…hit. The men cracked their knuckles. His startled mind transformed them into other figures, other times, other places. He scrambled back, but there was nowhere to go.
He made it to the street, the sleeves of his fine costume slipping down to his elbows. A dark blue bruise formed on his face, framed by his hair. The ponytail had fallen out long ago. Something warm dripped down his arm. One of the men had had a … a what? A knife? His shoulder was bleeding. He didn't even remember getting away. One second they were all over him, the next he was stumbling form the alley. Had he blacked out? Had they let him go? Something was burning…He glanced behind himself, then backpedaled rapidly into the street as the men came charging towards him.
Kurt's gaze flitted around in search of somewhere, anywhere he could hide. The sight that met his eyes made his blood run cold. There were more people out here…surging towards him. The smell of smoke burned his nose as they lit torches, yelling so loudly that his pointed ears twitched. A terrible certainty bled into his arms as he realized they were coming for him. A sallow old man led the charge, yelling something about a demon. The people flooded behind him. Kurt's heart stopped.
A mob. Out for blood. His blood.
Not again. NOT AGAIN.
He backed up again, back towards the alley, and collided with the men.
Their hands latched onto his, crushing the air from his body. He screamed, writhing in their grip as the sallow man reached him first, waving a torch in his face. "DEMON! BEGONE!"
"I am not a demon!: Kurt begged, still struggling. The words tasted bland in his mouth, as though he'd said them too many times. "I AM NOT A DEMON!"
They ignored him as they pressed closer. They always did. He closed his eyes and tensed every muscle in his body. He'd done this scene so many times he didn't want to watch anymore.
Coldrim glanced up in surprise as a tattered sobbing figure stumbled into his tent. He jumped to his feet, the monocle flashing with concern. "Kurt? Is that you?"
"Halp me…not a demon…not…" He collapsed as Coldrim knelt beside him, still sobbing. "Don't hurt her…not a demon…not…no…"
"Kurt, what are you talking about? What happened?"
Kurt shook, curled up into himself. "I…I am a demon…I am a m-monster…" His voice caught. "C-coldr…Master…I can't go home. I can't let them…let them…hurt her…They can't hurt her!" Kurt's eyes were wide and unfocused, as if he were seeing ghosts.
"Hush, now, Kurt." Coldrim murmured, running a hand lightly down the boy's bruised side, then coming back up to hover above his bleeding shoulder. A muffled curse hissed from his lips. Kurt was too distant to notice. "I'll take care of you. We'll talk more when you feel better." With that, he scooped the small package into his arms and strode from the tent as though he'd just won the lottery.
Kurt barely felt the rough black fabric rub against his bruises. All his will was focused on the tiny golden locket dangling limply from his hand.
A/N: Okay, chapter two. I'm not very happy with how I wrote this chapter. It went a little fast, but it IS essential for later on.
By the way, Kurt will be facing a lot of trouble in the next few chapters, but I promise he'll get back to Pierson and his family soon. I just need to get these next few plot points in here.
Anyways, any ideas for the next few chapters?
I need help for when Kurt starts training as a priest, I don't know anything about the rituals.
Also, if someone knows German, I need help with Kurt's vocabulary, especially when his family gets involved.
Anything else…? Oh, yeah. Please READ and REVIEW. (Especially review. I need critique, advice, and major ideas. I'm suffering over here!!!