Free Birth of a Killer by Darren Shan Page A

That was impressive, but Mr. Tall wanted the flames to last for a year. He walked off with the statue, stroking the side of his cheek, considering the problem. Larten barely noticed. He was entranced by the real Gervil, who had now brought a woman onstage and was letting her set his tongue on fire.
    Larten had been traveling with the Cirque Du Freak for six weeks, and he still found himself transfixed at each performance. Tonight’s show had started normally enough. After Mr. Tall’s introduction, a group of scantily clad dancing ladies had taken the stage, to the delight of the men in the audience. Mr. Tall didn’t like the dancers–he felt they cheapened the show–but they were expected. By the end, nobody would remember them—they’d stream awayyammering about Gervil, Laveesha, and the rest. But many had come to see semi-naked ladies, and Mr. Tall knew that it paid to give the audience what it wanted. At least to begin with.
    Rax, the human hammer, followed the dancers. He could hammer nails into wood and stone blocks using his head. It was a fun but unspectacular act. Merletta, a magician married to Verus the Ventriloquist, followed Rax. She was a skilled magician and wore almost as little as the dancers, so she was warmly received. But, like Rax, she offered nothing out of the ordinary.
    Gervil was the first of the magical freaks. His appearance marked the real start of the show. The lucky people in the crowd would be taken on a voyage of dreamy, unbelievable dimensions from this point on. By the time they filed out an hour or so before midnight, their imaginations would never be the same again.
    The hairless Gervil could set his flesh on fire and not be burned. It was a truly remarkable gift. Larten knew that many people came to the Cirque Du Freak convinced it was a sham. And while they fell into a wondrous spell during the performances, he was sure a lot of them would convince themselves in the cold light of day that it had all been a clever act.
    Larten knew better. He had traveled with these people, eaten with them, run errands for them, traded tales with them. Each performer was genuine. Mr. Tall had no place in his show for fakes.
    Gervil finished by setting his eyeballs on fire–that part of the act still shocked Larten–then left the stage to riotous applause. There was a break after that, during which Larten wove through the crowd, selling wares from his tray, shaking his head with a smile whenever he was asked how Gervil had endured the flames.
    Salabas and Laveesha were the stars of the second act, Merletta sandwiched between them to allow the crowd to draw its breath. She often performed in all three acts, a variety of impressive tricks. She had amazed with playing cards to begin with. Now she displayed her escapology skills, wriggling free of chains and shackles, topping it off with an escape from beneath a dropping frame of stakes. Her routine was slick and exciting, but nothing compared to the pair set either side of it.
    Salabas Skin looked like an ordinary person. He told a short story about his life and made it sound very dull. “But then one day I had an itch. I tugged at my skin and lo and behold…” He grabbed the flesh of his right forearm and pulled. The skin stretchedaway from the bone as if it were made of some supple fabric.
    To gasps of disbelief and delight, Salabas proceeded to stretch the skin all over his body. He pulled out the wall of his stomach by nine inches on either side. Tugging the flesh of his face, he invited audience members up and had them attach more than fifty pegs to his cheeks. He tied the skin of his chest into a bow.
    His grand finale involved Salabas gathering the skin of his throat. He raised it higher and higher until it formed a weird mask over his mouth and nose. It was both disgusting and hilarious. Salabas exited to a huge round of cheers, as he did every night.
    Laveesha was billed as the tattooed lady. Most freak shows had a tattooed performer,