Azazel:KeyWest:9/10/25
Fireball of my dreams lands tomorrow. I have a good feeling about it. My horns are twitching in the most pleasing manner. I did let everyone know that I had dreamed of this fireball. Willow looked at Mal. Mal grinned and rubbed his hands together.
“I knew she’d figure it out.” He turned to the Ring Master, “We’re going to need two more sleeping births ready by tomorrow midday. See if Dolphina has room.”
I haven’t spoken much of the Ring Master. He is, after all, mainly a figurehead. The Circus in Black belongs to Mal and always will. But the Ring Master is, and always will be, the public voice of the Circus. A consummate performer and real weird guy. He’s not a demon, more of a thrall. Made one of those crossroads deals with Mal a hundred years ago or more and eternal Ring Mastership was the price they settled on. He has more to atone for than just selling his soul, but that’s a story for another day.
I digressed. He did respond, “My good Sir, did I hear you right in that we are to welcome a fireball to the circus on the morrow? I should like to press you for a few more details. Perhaps I could mock up a flyer, send the advance men out into the city. No doubt a human?” He paused, eyebrows raised, “Human fireball would be quite the draw…”
“That won’t be necessary, they’re only guests. You remember Rebecca, don’t you? She’ll be coming with our daughter, but only for brief visit.”
Iahel stormed out of the room. She hates that she’s one of five and not the only. Mal says he had to have five daughters with five women for reasons of fate or somebiz, but I think he’s just… well, a demon. Let’s be honest, we love a good fuck.
As for the Circus proper, we managed to squeeze the entire kit and caboodle into our protection zone. It’s crowded. It’s noisy. But the neighborhood seems to be enjoying it…. we’re pitching in of course, helping with plywood and securing whatever needs to be secured.
Two days until the storm.
Rebecca:Deadwater:9/10/25
Flight leaves tomorrow morning. Miriam is packed. We have discussed how very very important it is for her to never to that flame thing with her fingers in front of normal people again. Most importantly not at the airport. Dear Christ, the girl can create a ball of fire and just roll it around and between her fingers like it’s a coin. Among the many other errands I had to run today, I got fire extinguishers for the house.
Miriam had thoughts.
“Mom, I’m not going to burn the house down. Watch.”
We were standing alone in the kitchen. She made a little fire ball in the palm of her hand. It spun and burned there. It was so mesmerizing, for a second I forgot to be afraid.
Then she dropped it.
“No!”
She laughed, and the fire dissipated into a little poof of hot, rippling air.
“I control it, completely.”
“You are kind of terrifying. Sorry.”
She laughed again, “Yeah, I really like it.”
I don’t know what to do with this.
August:Heaven:Administration
Evelyn and I were called into the Administrative Office today for a little chat. Apparently there were some complaints about the croquette game.
“Fire is really not allowed in Heaven, for obvious reasons, but namely we try to make it unlike Hell here. As much as we can.” The Administrator sat behind a large mahogany desk. There was nothing on it, just a flat expanse of overly shellacked wood. He was in suspenders with his shirtsleeves rolled up.
“But everything regenerates here so what difference does it make?” Evelyn, always so insightful.
“She’s absolutely right, Sir. Nothing is permanent here. Just two days ago we were on the promenade and someone turned the whole thing into cotton candy. Which, to be sure, I understand, the cotton candy here is to die for, but it could be that walking on cotton candy and getting sticky shoes is someone’s idea of Hell. Despite it being very whimsical, of course.”
“That was delightful! So pink!”
“Pink is a hideous color. I detest it. My Heaven simply can’t have pink,” Evelyn propped her elbows up on the desk.
The Administrator stared at her across the vast expanse of mahogany.
“There are no dislikes in Heaven,” he lit a cigar that appeared from nowhere. “It is designed to give you everything you want and remove the capacity to not want.”
“Well, I guess something when wrong during my orientation, but I have a strong distaste for pink… and croquette. Among other things.”
“Perhaps my orientation failed as well. In this very room I spoke to you of my strong distaste for my wife before she was brought to me.” I looked quickly to Evelyn, “We’ve patched things up, of course.”
“Perhaps… I could get you both scheduled for reorientation. That is highly unorthodox, but given the circumstances…” He reached for a button on his desk. I set the mahogany alight. We ran.
I don’t want to be reprogrammed. Neither does Evelyn. We need to get out of here.
