by J. P. Rice
Unfortunately, even with the dagger, we wouldn’t be out of the woods. We had to get the dagger to tell us who was behind the Death Card production. And after that, we had to track down the perpetrator. Rattling off the list reminded me of how much work was ahead just for a chance to find the mastermind.
There would be no grand payday in the end. Perhaps a hearty slap on the back from the Morrigan. And if she told the Gods that they should induct me into the pantheon, it would be a nice bonus. But the real motivation was bringing my father’s killer to justice and clearing my name in the process. The Morrigan had already told me that most of the Gods didn’t believe I’d killed Nuada, but I wanted complete exoneration.
And by justice for my father, I meant that I would kill anyone involved in the scheme. But first, we had a spooky carnival in the land of Fae to attend.
Chapter 12
We arrived at the ticket booth just outside the carnival. Creepy classical music played in the background. The booth was manned by a sidhe man with solid red eyes, a braided purple beard to his belly and a smooth bald head. He sported a raven’s feather tucked behind each ear. Dressed in black robes and big gold hoop earrings, he slapped his hand down on the wooden counter with chipped red paint.
“Admission prices are listed,” he said, pointing at the writing on top of the booth.
I pulled four pieces of silver out of my pocket and set them on the counter. The employee struck like a snake, his arm lashing forward. His long fingers trapped the 1-ounce silver coins on the counter and dragged it inside the booth. He stared at us, his glowing red eyes burning through the darkness.
“Don’t start any trouble,” he warned, and slid four tickets to the edge of the counter.
I picked up the tickets and handed one each to Justinian and the Morrigan. “I’ll hold onto your ticket, Titania.”
“Sounds good,” replied the hovering dragonfly.
We walked up to the main gate that resembled the entrance to a cemetery. The black metal creaked open automatically, inviting us in to the haunted carnival. The light mist in the air had absorbed the rich purple lighting, creating a spooky atmosphere. A projection of a portal you would see on TV or the movies sat in front of us, waiting for us to enter.
The purple lighting shone through a circular projection filled with ancient symbols and a big pentagram in the middle. It would probably look cool on a book cover! We walked through the fake portal and entered the carnival. Immediately, something in the back attracted my eyes and I ignored the rides and games right in front of me.
The colorful fog couldn’t hide the haunted castle that loomed over everything else. The entrance was the open mouth of a giant green demon head replete with long fangs and bugged out eyes. It looked like Disney had mistakenly hired Tim Burton to decorate a princess castle.
The carnival appeared as dark and creepy as the citizens had described it to me when I’d lived in Sleepy Willow. I liked it. None of the elves who had raised me attended any of the carnivals as they hadn’t had time or money for frivolous activity. That meant I’d never gone either. I’d only heard the stories.
Back to the mission at hand. We were at a disadvantage because Owen had never received a physical description of Dolphus. We were just working with a name, but I had confidence that if he were here, we would find him.
I gazed up at the sky and noticed two blackbirds, their spread wings cast against the milky backdrop of a full moon. I focused back on ground level and noticed a Ferris wheel and the other rides in the background. Groups of Fae creatures were making their rounds, enjoying something that didn’t come around much in this netherworld. Entertainment.
Initially, I hadn’t understood how the carnival had stayed in business while most of the citizens were starving. Staring at the creepy spectacle, I realized that it provided an escape from life’s problems. For a brief moment in time, the beings could forget about the crop curse or where the next meal would come from. Food was so scarce they couldn’t even purchase it, but they could buy an experience that would lift the spirit.
Two men walked toward us on stilts. Both men were wearing loincloths, holding a clear bottle in one hand and a lit torch in the other. They stopped moving and drank some liquid out of the bottle. The men turned to each other, looked up and placed the fire in front of their mouths. Both men spat a stream of flames high above and waddled over to the next group, replicating the performance.
The Morrigan said, “Let’s walk around and see who we can shake down privately.”
I noticed the red-eyed counter worker streak past us and disappear into the purple mist. Either his shift had just ended, or something was going on. The Morrigan’s pupils made her unmistakably identifiable. Perhaps she should have shifted into a different form.
A group of evil clowns, each one over seven feet tall, approached and surrounded us. They shrieked and screamed unintelligibly, then reached out to pinch us. I didn’t like this part of the carnival and seized up.
The Morrigan grabbed a clown with a white face and a black teardrop pattern by the wrist. In a swift motion, she pulled him closer and turned his arm, then she dropped her elbow on his. A stomach-churning crunch hit my ears, followed by feral yelps of pain as the clown falling to the ground.
The Morrigan announced loudly, “I don’t like clowns. So stay the hell away from us,” she warned, spinning around in a circle.
The other clowns put up their hands and backed away. A few daring members picked up their fallen comrade and took him away.
“So much for keeping a low pro, Mo,” I commented.
The Morrigan shrugged her shoulders and said, “I don’t like clowns. Why would they touch us? That’s weird.”
We continued past the gawking patrons, who were staring at the Morrigan with reverence. A group of zombies with blood smears around their mouths marched unsteadily up to us, noticed the Morrigan and darted off in the other direction, moving swifter than any zombie I’d ever seen.
The next exhibit was a werewolf juggling three human heads with blood trailing from the necks. He tossed them up and caught them by the hair, keeping the process going for the ten gawkers.
I elbowed Justinian. “You know that guy?”
He rolled his eyes and bit his bottom lip. “Cannot say as I do.”
I laughed. “If you want to stay and start up a career as a decapitated head juggler, I’d understand.”
He shot me a dirty look and the strong purple shafts of light gave the junior wolf a fiercer presence. He spoke with sharpness attached to his words, “Great offer. Very tempting. But I believe I shall pass.”
It appeared Justinian didn’t enjoy my usual brand of ‘busting chops’ humor. This wolf spoke in a more refined manner than the rest of the pack. Not to say that the pack was stupid. Far from it, but none of the other men used proper words like cannot or shall. He also orated like a singer, unlike the grunting spurts of words that came from the other pack members.
We turned the corner and came to a merry-go-round lit up with an ultraviolet theme. As I got closer, I realized the horses were headless, bobbing up and down under the glowing lavender lighting, rotating on the track. The riders held onto the pole in the middle of the inanimate animals.
A mother with her young daughter on her lap passed, both smiling and having the time of their lives. I turned away, trying to forget the image but it had already been branded into my mind, serving as a constant reminder of my biggest fear.
I feared that my husband hadn’t disappeared. He’d wanted children just as much as me. And for some reason, I couldn’t bear him a child. Darabond had wanted a son. Someone to whom he could teach the secrets of life. Every man’s wish. And I’d failed at fulfilling his wish.
The cruelty of life had reared its ugly head when I had been undercover at the Red Cavern. How could a devil impregnate me, but not my own husband?
As much as I feared that something terrible had happened while he was serving a noble mission, another fear, a crippling fear
, screamed at me that he’d left because I couldn’t give him a child. It would kill me if he were staying away from me willingly.
The worst part was that he wouldn’t even recognize me now with all my scars and magical prowess. Neither of us had known magic when he’d left. We simply loved each other. As my mind wandered, and I took in all the sights and sounds, I realized that I’d forgotten to concentrate on finding someone to shake down.
I saw the huge electrical generators on the horse-drawn trailers outside the carnival. How did they stay in business? From the employees to the electricity, it seemed like an expensive enterprise. Then I remembered it was the only show in town.
An evil clown waving her hands around wildly approached us. The Morrigan made a fist and drew it back, but the clown put her open hands in front of her chest. She said, “No trouble. I need to talk to you. I’m the owner.”
The Morrigan still had her hand clenched and defended herself. “Should tell your clowns not to touch.”
She looked around and lowered her voice. “I’m not here to chastise you. Actually, quite the opposite. I know who you are, and we don’t want any trouble. If you are here to claim someone, please do it quietly so it doesn’t disrupt business.”
Not a bad businesswoman. Death was usually bad for ticket sales. Not always, but usually.
The Morrigan deadpanned the owner, and with a straight face, she spoke solemnly, “Sorry about your luck. Any last words before you come with me?”
The owner dropped to her knees and folded her hands. Shaking them above her head, she exclaimed, “No. What did I do to deserve this?”
She began sobbing uncontrollably, and the Morrigan busted out laughing. The woman stopped her wailing and looked up at Mo.
The Goddess of Death said, “Just kidding. You’re fine. We’re looking for a dwarf named Dolphus Aquinus.”
“Oh, good Gods. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” She rose to her feet, took a few shuddering breaths and patted her heart. “As for the dwarf, I knew he’d be nothing but trouble. Should’ve never taken his money. I’ll take you to where he’s stowed away,” she said and pointed the way.
The owner walked us around the carnival toward the haunted house. I wanted to ride the rides and play some games, but I followed the owner. She pointed to a small pen on our right. As I got closer and looked inside, I saw a two-headed goat staggering around the hay-lined pen.
“He’s been charged with taking care of this little lady.” No sooner than the words escaped her lips, the back door of the pen flew open, and a dwarf sprinted around the perimeter of the haunted house.
The tiny blur streaked between two groups of people and disappeared into the purple darkness.
“That’s him,” the owner needlessly pointed out, as we started after Dolphus.
As I ran after him, the bright lights dulled and the mist made it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of me. I kept following the perimeter of the haunted house, and through the heavy fog, I noticed a blurry form climbing the ten-foot-high fence surrounding the carnival.
“Over here,” I yelled and ran up to the barrier, but the dwarf was gone. My three compadres caught up quickly, and we hopped the fence. We landed in a forest and could only hear a light rustling in the distance and the faint sounds of the carnival.
“Fuck. Obviously, he knows the secrets, or he wouldn’t have run,” the Morrigan observed.
“Don’t you have some heat seeking magic you can throw at him?” Justinian asked.
“My blackbirds will take too long to get here. And all my other stuff will kill him,” the Morrigan complained, and stomped her heel into the grass, churning up a huge divot.
“I’ll find him,” announced an enthusiastic Titania.
Unsure of her abilities, I asked, “Are you sure you can do it?”
“For the team,” she cried as she zipped away, her voice trailing into silence. Within moments, she vanished into the pale fog.
I didn’t put too much faith in her expedition. Titania was great, but her proactivity far outweighed her competency, so I tempered my expectations.
I broke the weird silence. “I’d say wait until morning to find him but he’ll be long gone by then.”
“If Titania doesn’t find him, my guess is we’ll never see him again,” Justinian opined, staring up at the moon.
I said, “That’s the problem. Even if Titania finds him, she can’t detain him so unless he’s stopped somewhere, it will be next to impossible. And if he sees her, he’s sure to take off running again.”
“Relax,” the Morrigan said and cracked her neck. “If it falls through, we’ll just go straight through the swamp.”
I complained, “But he was right here, right on our fingertips. The key to us avoiding the poisonous snakes, alligators and insects with incurable diseases just fell through our hands.”
“I’m not afraid of alligators or snakes,” the Morrigan said proudly.
“What about the flying bugs that you can’t see? You can’t just fight off a disease no one’s heard of.” I tried to settle down, but the dark blood inside me was pissed. It chastised me for not having a better plan when we confronted Dolphus. I’d forgotten to surround the goat pen because of the entrancing surroundings.
Apparently, so had the rest of my gang. If we couldn’t catch a dwarf, we stood no chance in making it through the swamp and fending off the Goblin Queen to obtain the talking dagger.
Titania’s bright body emerged from the mist and flew up to us. Out of breath, she said, “Found him. Give me a few seconds and I’ll show you guys where he is.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “He’s not going to be in the same place where you just saw him.”
Hovering a few feet in front of me, Titania raised her voice and said, “The hell he won’t. I hit him with some of my sleepy juice.”
“Sleepy juice?” Justinian asked, suddenly intrigued, raising his brow.
“Yeah, silly.” She snort-laughed and took a few seconds to compose her giggling. “My stinger doesn’t only shoot fire. It shoots a substance like Novocaine that numbs the body and prevents movement from the neck down. The person still has control of speaking and listening though.”
I perked up, my eyes blinking rapidly. “Titania, you angel. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Titania led us into the woods. Without moonlight, the visibility was worse than in the open field. I kept tripping in the mist-filled darkness, and finally called on fire. A few seconds later, my hand lit up like a torch. I trail blazed with Titania perched atop my shoulder, navigating the way. The Morrigan and Justinian followed us as we plunged further into the ancient forest.
After about five minutes, I wondered if Titania had really found the dwarf or if she had said that to impress us. At first, she had spoken with full-throated confidence in giving the directions, but doubt seemed to creep in, causing her voice to crack and squeak.
“He’s right around here. I’ll be right back,” Titania said and launched off my shoulder. She shot into the foggy abyss.
About ten seconds later, she called, “Over here.”
I stepped over a moss-covered tree trunk and turned right. There he was. Garbed in gray britches and a torn boiled leather vest over a hooded tunic, Dolphus Aquinus was lying on the ground, completely still.
The shaggy-haired dwarf with a windburned face could barely move his neck.
“Why can’t I move?” His blue eyes darted around to each of us, ultimately fixating on the Morrigan. “I guess I knew this day would come. Did the Goblin Queen send you?”
The Morrigan answered, “No. But we want to talk about her. We need to know how you got in and out of her castle.”
Dolphus sighed. “Since you’ve paralyzed me, I have a few simple requests.”
“What do you want?” Titania asked.
Dolphus cleared his throat. “If you could please take the ruby ring out of the inside pocket of my jacket and place it on my finger one last time.”
> I unbuttoned the inside pocket of his vest and plucked out the ruby ring. Even in the forest’s darkness, it shone with red and gold intensity. I slid it on his middle finger and held up his arm, so he could see it. Dolphus smiled with the gleam dancing in the whites of his eyes. He said, “Just one more request, if I may?”
“What now?” I asked, setting his hand on his chest.
“I have a flask of whiskey in the left pocket of my trousers.” Dolphus smiled. “Could someone pour some into my mouth?”
I grabbed the silver flask from his pants and unscrewed the cap. Dolphus held his mouth open, and I poured in some booze. He had trouble drinking the light gold liquid and it spilled out the sides of his mouth, running down his neck and soaking into the collar of his tunic. I fed him about half of the contents that smelled like cheap whiskey.
Dolphus smiled again, his puffy cheeks getting red. “I suppose if I’m about to die, I might as well do it with a buzz.”
“What do you mean you’re about to die?” I asked, worried that he had poisoned himself.
“Unless the Morrigan has started making social calls, I can see the writing on the walls of the haunted house,” he said, slurring his words and grinning.
“I can understand the mix up, but we’re not here to kill you,” the Morrigan reassured him. “At least we don’t want to. You’ll be fine so long as you tell the truth. We don’t plan to tell the Goblin Queen, or anyone for that matter, anything about you.”
“Your secrets shall be safe with us,” Justinian promised.
“Why do you want to know?” Dolphus asked. He spoke gently and calmly, like he’d never raised his voice before.
“Because we have to get something out of the castle,” Titania explained.
Dolphus stared down at his ring as he spoke, “If they are expecting you, it will not work. The reason my plan succeeded is because nobody expected me.”
“I doubt they are expecting us. Here. Have another drink.” I poured more booze into his mouth and he slurped it up greedily.