Chapter 1: Baptism by Fire

"That child is a demon. And you are cursed for saving it. It will drag you down to hell with it."

Margali shifted into a lower gear as she slowly lead the procession of lorries and assorted trailers that was the Circus Gehlhaar down the last turns of the winding mountain pass. They had spent too long in up in Barvaria, trying to get a few last performances in before they moved the circus south for the winter, and they had woken up to snow on the ground. It had been a difficult morning, all the ropes were stiff and frozen and Kurt and his team of roustabouts had had a rough time pulling down the tents. Everybody was in a bad mood.

Behind her, Margali could hear her two children, Stephani and Amanda, shifting restlessly in their seats. As the road began to level she moved up a gear, listening the clunking sound it made. She'd have to look at it when they reached Nice, but France wasn't for many miles yet so she hoped it would hold out.

Margali's lorry had once been a delivery truck, a "step van" they had called it, with the cab and cargo space all in one with the roof nearly 12 feet high. At some point it had probably been in the service of some delivery company but now it was painted in bright colors emblazoned with the name "Madame Szardos – Gypsy Fortune Teller" and surrounded by images of tarot cards and palmistry diagrams. Inside, she had turned the space into a cozy, but somewhat primitive living space. What it lacked in conveniences such as running water and electricity it made up in comfort. There were bunks for the children and a sturdy wooden table beside a propane stove that provided both heat and a place to cook. At night, the whole interior was lit with the warm glow of oil lamps and a few candles. It reminded Margali of her heritage; when her people had traveled throughout Europe in horse drawn caravans.

As they came out of the foothills of the Alps, they started to see signs of civilization, clusters of houses in the traditional Bavarian style, looking like gingerbread houses under the fresh coat of snow.

Bored of driving already, Margali found herself contemplating her dream of the night before. All night she had dreamt of fire – she had been walking through it – even engulfed by it. It was a strange dream, but she had grown up with gypsies and knew enough not to dismiss an omen when it came. It made her wary. Fire was the force of change, both destruction and of new beginnings.

There were half a dozen new religions that were gaining popularity under the guise of witchcraft and sorcery; all of them were watered down versions of the true magic, the magic of her mother and her grandmother. Her magic. But sorcery wasn't a viable career occupation in today's world and so she had found the best place to hide her practice – telling fortunes with tarot cards and crystal balls. They were all props of course, but they were what made people believe.

The circus pulled into the outskirts of a small village. It was isolated and old, the sort of town where people didn't like change. The road hadn't been cleared of the snow and there was a look of stagnation, like the town had been preserved in a near pre-industrial state. Only the occasional television antenna broke the illusion that the place had been left back in time. Margali hated towns like these. These people were just a scant generation or two removed from those who had persecuted her family, calling them witches and heretics, throwing stones at them and setting fire to their wagons. There was a church bell clanging incessantly, which only added to her general desire to pass through and be gone.

Her dream flashed into her mind again and she sat up straighter. Was that burning she smelled or was she just being silly, imagining it? She sniffed the air and looked upward for signs of smoke. When she turned her attention back to the road she had to slam on the brakes with both feet. She heard the rest of the lorries and vans doing the same behind her. She hardly noticed when her lorry stalled and then engine died.

There was a woman kneeling in the middle of the snow-covered street, her hands bright with blood. She had on a white apron and that too was splashed with gore. She was nearly hysterical; her face was streaked with tears mingling with smears of blood from her hands.

Margali jumped out of the truck, Amanda and Stephani leaping from their seats and following her.

"Look after Amanda." She told Stephani, "Stay back." Amanda was barely two and Stephani only a few years older. Stephani pulled the toddler protectively toward his chest and pressed his back against the front grill, not taking his eyes off of the scene in front of him.

Margali knelt beside the woman. She was saying words as she wailed and at first they were incomprehensible. Finally the woman calmed enough to point a shaking hand one of the typical gingerbread houses that was hardly more than a cabin. "That house is cursed." She said.

Margali turned to look at it and for the first time noticed that the woman wasn't alone. The tiny yard around the house was crowded with people. She could tell even through the snow that it had once been a well-kept garden. Now it was in a trampled state as nearly a dozen people bustled around the house, some nailing boards across the doors and windows and others splashing liquid from metal cans around the foundation walls. A man wearing what looked like a priest's cassock under his coat was standing next to a barren tree holding a large cross and muttering under his breath. Margali narrowed her eyes. The scene stunk of the kind of religious discrimination that set her teeth on edge.

"Why?" She asked, already inwardly seething, but careful to keep a controlled exterior. By now the rest of the members of the circus were out of their vehicles and watching the scene. She could hear them asking what the hold up was in various languages, wondering what she was up to.

"There was a birth. It killed the mother. And the father, he…" This started up the woman's wailing anew and Margali began to understand that she was a midwife.

Now the people who had been boarding up the house were standing back watching as one of them painted a giant black "X" on the door. It occurred to Margali how strange it was that no one had come to comfort the midwife; that they were concentrating only on the house. Surely anyone could understand her distress, to see a woman die in childbirth… Margali shuddered.

She saw Lysette, a heavily tattooed woman who was also a superb acrobat try to place a blanket over the woman's shoulders. "You must be cold." Lysette said, her French accent making her German almost impenetrable.

The midwife was indeed shivering and so Margali was surprised when she flung the blanket away and stood up. "Don't you understand? That house is cursed, and I… I touched it. And now I'm cursed."

Margali dropped her comforting demeanor. Magic she respected but superstition was totally different. "What do mean cursed? Touched what? What happened in that house?" She demanded. She stood her full height with her hands on her hips. The rest of the circus was watching now, their eyes darting from one woman to the other.

"It was a monster. An abomination. It killed the mother and the father died the same instant." The women looked wildly at the house and then back at Margali. "I called the priest. There was nothing else I could do." She said, suddenly calm.

Margali sighed and looked back at the house. Flames were now beginning to lick at the outer walls. For a moment everybody appeared mesmerized, staring at the house and the flames, trying not to imagine the scene this poor woman had witnessed. There was nothing anyone could do. The house would burn and its ashes would become the family's grave. She was sorry she'd even got involved.

"Let's go." She said and taking Stephani's shoulder, guided him gently towards the van. Let these people keep their superstitions and their prejudice, she thought. The roustabouts, eager to get going, followed suit. And then Margali stopped. One of the trucks was already running again and she waved her hand at it, signaling the driver to cut the engine. She heard it again. And slowly turned towards the midwife, now standing mute, staring at the flames.

"The baby is alive?" Margali asked in horror. She could hear it clearly now, the high-pitched cries of a newborn.

"It's not a baby." The midwife said dully.

Margali pushed past her and marched towards the house. It was starting to burn with bright orange flames, a thin column of dark smoke curling up into the sky. She could her the wood popping and cracking with the heat. Suddenly frantic, she went to the front door, which was still free of flames and started pulling at the boards. To her surprise no one tried to stop her, but the boards wouldn't come free. She pulled and pulled, driven by the cries of the baby inside, but they held fast.

"Help me!" she cried and it was then she realized that the reason no one had tried to intervene was because the members of the circus had made a protective circle around her and the house. For a moment nobody moved. Finally, Kurt, the circus strong man and chief roustabout strode forward. He began pulling boards from the door with his giant hands like they were toothpicks and was quickly joined by others, prying at the boards and even trying to shovel snow against the house to quell the flames.

Finally she reached the door and with a mighty push from Kurt, it fell upon the cottage floor. Without hesitation, Margali stepped inside. She now knew why she had dreamed of fire that night and it made her know that her action was right and true.

Inside, the house was simple; kitchen, bed, and living space all in a single room that was quickly filling with smoke. The boarded windows shut out all light other than the flames beginning to peek through the cracks in the walls. Holding her sleeve to her mouth, Margali bent over double and made her way towards the bed at the far wall. A window breaking from the heat made her jump and glance over her shoulder. The entire wall and every thing near it burst explosively into flame. Margali shielded her face from the heat and turned her attention back to the bed. There was a woman on it. She had died in agony, the sheets drenched in her blood and her body twisted.

Margali placed a hand on the woman's forehead and said the words that would keep her safe on the paths of the dead. But she saw no sign of an infant. The smoke was getting thicker and Margali had to crawl to stay below it. Then she heard the cries again, issuing from under the bed. She could barely see the child in the shadows. Grabbing the cleanest of the bedding she reached under and pulled the blankets around it. Holding the bundle protectively against her chest Margali made to crawl towards the front door.

Even in the short space of time she had been in the house, the fire had spread. The front door was still open, fire beginning to creep along the frame. Margali crawled faster, trying not to breathe as each inhalation made her lungs sting from the smoke. There was a loud crack and suddenly a beam from the roof slammed down in front of the door, spreading flames with it.

"No!" She screamed as she watched her only exit disappear into a burst of flame fueled with the air from the open roof. Fighting panic, Margali jumped to her feet. Only one of the walls was free of flames now and she made her way toward it. She was going to die here with this infant and its family leaving her own children orphans. Her dream had been a warning, not a message. Even the strongest magic was like that – ambiguous even at its most powerful. And then she heard it, the sound of something large being hammered against the wall. She knelt down, trying to keep herself as far away from the burning interior as possible; hardly aware of how tightly she was clutching the bundle of blankets to her chest.

The hammering continued, a rhythmic banging on the wall, each blow so hard that it shook the cabin. She let out a small scream of surprise when the wall broke open, letting in much needed light and air. Then she realized it was one of the center poles from their biggest tent. She could her Kurt's powerful voice as he directed the team to use the pole like a battering ram, knocking down the side of the house to free her. When the hole was big enough she reached out a hand and felt herself pulled to safety.

Kurt gathered Margali up into his arms as he pulled her from the burning house, carried her to safety and then flung her down into the snow to stamp out the flames on her clothes with one of his sturdy boots. Margali lay there with her eyes shut enjoying the coolness of the snow and breathing great gulps of air. She could smell singed hair and cloth. It had been a stupid stunt she knew, but both she and the child where safe. Her dream hadn't been a warning after all. She heard laughing and opened her eyes. Kurt was standing over her chucking, his great arms folded over his chest.

"You're insane." He said.

Margali smiled, brushing her hair aside and feeling the soot covering her face. "I know." She said, "but we did a good deed." She turned and saw Stephani and Amanda a few feet a way and was relived that they too were safe. Her smile faded when she realized that the child was silent and had been for some time. Fearing she had accidentally smothered the infant in her attempt to save it, she slowly released her grip on the blankets. Margali unwrapped the bundle and felt her breath catch in her throat.

The baby was blue, but not the dusky hue of oxygen depravation; it was a deeper shade, like the color of midnight. The infant stared up at her, blinking yellow eyes. Margali was mesmerized. She had never seen anything like it. The baby was … beautiful. She hardly noticed the crunch of snow as Kurt knelt down next to her.

"What is it?" Kurt asked slowly, she could hear the same disbelief she felt in his voice.

Snapped back to reality, Margali took a quick peek deeper into the blankets. "What is he?" She corrected. And before he could say more she answered, "A baby" and stood up. She and Kurt walked slowly back to where the rest of the circus was assembled with Stephani and Amanda trailing hand in hand behind them.

"We should go." She said, eyeing the priest and his small congregation, standing slightly apart from the midwife. Holding her head high and cradling the infant in her arms, she walked slowly back to her van. She helped Amanda in with one hand and was about to climb in herself when she felt something wet hit the back of her head. Margali turned around. The priest had spit on her.

"That child is a demon. And you are cursed for saving it. It will drag you down to hell with it." The priest said.

Margali was suddenly livid, she could feel rage bubbling up and rising to the surface. How dare he judge her when he had consigned a living being to flames? She spit back at him. "I'll save you a seat next to us." She said.

She felt a strong arm guide her up the step into the lorry and obediently climbed in, still staring daggers at the priest and his followers while the house continued to burn behind them. She sank down into one of the cushions they used for seats and was vaguely aware of the lorry starting and driving off. She looked up and was relieved to see that Kurt had asked one of his charges to drive. She looked out the side window and watched the tiny town disappear behind them.

Suddenly content Margali leaned back in her seat. Stephani and Amanda, both sat silent across the room from her as though they didn't know what to do. Margali smiled and beckoned them closer so they could meet their new brother.