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22.1: AGGRESSORS (part 1)

In which a number of persons are assaulted.

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"Let us through!" Winkton bellowed. "I'm looking for my daughter, the captive of a foul fiend! Let us see your vampire, Night curse you!" He stood, huffing, outside HENRICK'S HOUSE OF HORRERS, facing down the aforesaid Henrick with a face grown so purple it would have made a banshee proud.

"You'd better do as he says," Fang put in wryly. "My Lord has been known to explode upon those who stand in his way." But even as he said it, he knew it would make no difference. For although Winkton was a big man, Henrick was bigger. Upon seeing the board outside Henrick's attraction, proclaiming the presence of a BLOODTHIRSTY VAMPYRE, Gustav had called a question into the opening of the tent. Henrick had emerged, his great bulk unfolding improbably from the small entrance and making even Fang take a step backward in surprise. Then Winkton-never the most perceptive of men-had seen fit to begin introductions by demanding entry into Henrick's attraction while refusing to pay the thruppence fee.

Henrick appeared unmoved by Winkton's shouting. He did not budge from his position in front of the tent's entrance, instead folding his meaty arms over a barrel-like chest. If anything, it seemed as though all this commotion was merely depressing him. His eyes, ringed by dark circles, stared miserably at Winkton, Fang, and Gustav as they stood before him.

Winkton puffed himself up, ready to follow up on his bellow, but Henrick was spared this further futile attempt by another shout. This one was high, piercing, and intensely annoying. It was also somewhat familiar.

"Papa, Papa, there he is! There's the awful man who called me names!"

"Night take her," Fang groaned, turning. There, sure enough, was the female infant who had waylaid him earlier with the picture of Juggalug. She was tugging her father behind her by the hand. Neither of them, it had to be said, looked particularly pleased.

"As if you three weren't bad enough," rumbled Henrick, staring glumly at the approaching duo, "you've gone and brought more trouble down on me too. What I did to deserve such a life, I don't know." After this gloomy pronouncement he sank once more into a stubborn silence, watching them with dark-rimmed eyes.

The striding pair shoved their way through the fairground crowd and came to a halt in front of Fang. "There, Papa." The girl pointed at Fang. "It was him!"

The felt-hatted man took in Fang's appearance. Fang looked steadily back from under his black hood. He fully expected the man's cheeks to pale and for him to stammer an apology before backing hastily away, dragging his daughter with him. So he was taken aback when, instead, the man squared his shoulders. "Now," he announced. "What is this I hear about you insulting my darling Charlotte?"

Ah, Fang thought, noting the expensive silk of the man's coat and his pristinely waxed moustache. I see. This was one of those men who was so sure of their place in society that they simply assumed that everything would go their way. If someone had wronged them, that person would be brought to justice. If they were upset, someone would put it to rights. If they wanted their shoes polished, someone would polish them.

Clearly the man had never been to Night. Here, he might be a gentleman with a fancy hat. There, he'd be dinner.

It was also obvious he had passed his arrogant attitude on to his daughter. The aforesaid 'darling' was tugging on her father's trouserleg, chiming, "You show him, Papa! You show him!"

Fang quirked an eyebrow. His every instinct was screaming at him to leap upon the man and show him exactly what a vampire was capable of. But Gustav was watching him, and Fang did not want to blow his cover just yet.