The Fangs of Freelance

by Drew Hayes

  With a night sky overhead and nothing to do while we waited for the others, now seemed as good a time as any to tell her the story of what happened the night I helped save Gideon.

  “Ah, that. Well, as I said, we don’t understand how it’s possible, but we do know the cause: dragon magic.”

  Her eyes got wider, and a sharp smile split her face. “Ohhh shit. This is going to be good.”

  An Appraisal in the Carnival

  1.

  The headlights of Bubba’s truck lit the metal fence, bound together by thick chains and sealed with a massive padlock. Beyond the obstacle, I could see faded blotches of red, yellow, green, and blue all dotting the shadowy landscape. The colors matched the rest of the decor, which is to say it all looked old and worn. Here and there, my eyes caught sight of some bits of metal that still shone or a tent without frayed edges; however, these were the rare exceptions amidst a veritable ocean of lost splendor.

  “Honest first impression: the curb appeal is going to need a lot of work.”

  “It’s an abandoned carnival; we knew that much going in.” Bubba looked out the window, squinting slightly. His night-vision wasn’t quite on the same level as my own, so it took more effort for him to see what lay on the other side of that fence. “But you ain’t exactly wrong either.” He killed the engine, and the two of us stepped out of his truck and into the night air.

  Despite the theoretically festive nature of the destination, Bubba and I were both at the carnival to work. Richard Alderson, head of the local tribe of therians and a man we both considered to be a friend, had been approached by one of his people looking for a loan to restore this place, having recently inherited it from a dead family member. (If it seems strange that someone would approach the head of a supernatural organization for money, please do keep in mind that parahumans are both poor record keepers in general and held to different tax codes than regular people, making it exceedingly difficult to just go get a loan from a bank. I’d been taken aback as well, yet it seems such things happen all the time.) Richard, however, was not a man to invest his money foolishly, and had therefore hired Bubba and I to come out and do an evaluation of the premises.

  Bubba was to check over the mechanical issues and see what repairs would run, while I was supposed to evaluate the facilities as a whole and calculate the potential revenue stream. It was, admittedly, a bit outside my wheelhouse, and I’d told Richard as much, but it was closer to my specialty than anyone else he knew, so I’d still been given the job. I could hardly say no after that, both because Richard was asking as a favor, and because his tribe and my clan were officially aligned together. It was another layer of protection against the Turvas, one that needed protecting, though honestly, I’d have probably taken the job anyway. While Lillian had proven more than skilled enough to make up for the extra work after losing Albert, things still weren’t quite the same as they had been. I missed having him around. Though we still saw each other at Charlotte Manor with some regularity, it just wasn’t the same. Much of his time was spent training with Arch these days, and even now, they were on a trip to Boarback for a week. Getting myself out of the office was a nice change of pace, and spending the time with friends made it all the more enjoyable.

  “Here he comes.” Bubba nodded up the long, winding dirt road to where a pair of headlights could be seen slicing through the darkness. This place’s location, no doubt chosen to keep any other businesses from complaining about the noise and lights, was somewhat out of the way. That was going to be a hurdle if they wanted to reopen the establishment, one of nearly a dozen I’d mentally tallied before we were even through the front gate.

  The vehicle moved slowly, taking every bump with extreme care, until it circled the last bend and came into full view. I’ll admit it; I stared in shock at what appeared before us, my mouth hanging slightly agape. Of all the cars I’d imagined Richard might drive—massive monster trucks or luxurious stretch limos, mostly—this one had never even entered the competition.

  Richard Alderson, head of Winslow’s therian tribe, host to the King of the West, and all-around imposing figure, pulled his minivan to a stop only a few feet away from Bubba’s truck. When he popped the door and stood up, it made a little more sense. This minivan had been modified to accommodate his incredible size, as Richard towered over pretty much everyone and had so much muscle he’d have made every other participant in a bodybuilding competition immediately admit defeat. Then he yanked the sliding side door open, and the vehicle choice became a perfect fit. Because, above all the other things I listed already, Richard was a father, and minivans tended to have exceptional safety features.

  Sally Alderson, Richard’s daughter, bounded out the side of the minivan, eyes shining as she raced to the front gate and stared into the carnival’s depths. It was curious; despite all the grime and general wear the place had suffered, she still seemed utterly entranced by the idea of a carnival of any sort. From behind her, moving at a steady pace that in no way matched his childish form, was Gideon. An ancient dragon who had taken the appearance of a child, there was something unsettling about him, even before one caught sight of his lavender eyes and dangerous smile. Gideon was terrifying, easily the scariest person or creature I’d ever encountered, yet he was also dedicated. He had taken up the role of Sally’s playmate, best friend, and guardian, and to my knowledge, none who’d ever tried to harm her had lived to see another sunset.

  “You brought Sally?” Bubba asked.

  “Wasn’t planning on it, but once she heard I was coming to look over a carnival, she got all excited . . .” Richard rubbed the back of his neck and glanced down, slightly embarrassed. The man could stand toe-to-toe with nearly any parahuman and never flinch; however, even he was weak when it came to his daughter. “She’s never been able to go to a real one—with crowds that size it’s just too dangerous—so since this place is empty, I thought it would be okay.”

  “A real one would be fine as well,” Gideon said, standing a ways back from Sally as she pressed against the gate so hard I began to fear she might accidently push her head through. Though, given all the parahuman strength we had on hand, snapping a few metal bars wouldn’t even be an inconvenience. “I would make sure she was unharmed.”

  “We tried that once, Gideon. You left so much blood on the glass, they had to close the aquarium for a month,” Richard reminded him.

  Gideon merely shrugged. “I assumed thoroughly discouraging the first attempt to take her would give any who planned on trying again reason to reconsider the idea.”

  “Daddy! Can we go inside?” Sally had finally turned from the gate and was looking back at us.

  “One moment. Daddy just has to get the key.” Richard patted his pockets, eventually coming up with a moderately sized key that looked positively diminutive in his massive hand. “Okay, guys, let’s do a nice, thorough check of the property. Lonnie—that’s the wererat asking for the loan—says his grandpa built and ran this place for a few decades. Started as a cover for a moonshining operation in the woods, hence the location, but ended up making enough to turn it into a legitimate business. Even after the people stopped coming, he had enough of a soft spot for the old joint that he kept paying a maintenance company to come out and keep the carnival from falling down, which means it should be mostly safe. Plus, the place still has power, so the first thing we need to do is find the main office and turn on the juice. That should give us an idea of what works and what doesn’t.”

  “Sally and I will be amusing ourselves with rides and games,” Gideon announced.

  Bubba looked over at the carnival. “Hate to tell you this, but even with occasional maintenance and power, I doubt any of these old rides are still working.”

  “I’ve made things move under my will since long before you humans managed to bend lightning to your bidding. Sally wishes to have a genuine carnival experience, so that is what she will receive.” Gideon started forward toward the gate, as though the conversatio
n was concluded. Which I guess it was, for him, and that meant it was done for the rest of us, too. Gideon spoke with us only when he deemed it worth doing, and even that was a sizable courtesy.

  The rest of us followed him over, and Richard began fumbling with the lock. It was old, but sturdy, probably one of the last few well-constructed items in the entire park. Now that I was closer, I could see that despite the place being run-down, it was surprisingly clean, and the lingering scent of human still danced in the air. The maintenance company had clearly just been out, perhaps even that day. Well, at least Lonnie was smart enough to put his best foot forward; that spoke to someone who cared about the project he was undertaking. If the maintenance was thorough, and the attractions were not in need of dire repairs, this might just be something worth putting money into.

  “Get in the—damn it.” Richard’s shoulders slumped, and in his hand I could see the snapped off remains of a key. “Must be rusted or something. I couldn’t get it to fit right. Fred, do me a favor and make a note that we need to buy Lonnie a new lock.” Before I could even take out my notepad to jot the order down, there was a muted crunch and Richard was tossing the broken remains of a lock to the ground.

  He pulled the chain through the gate’s bars easily, then yanked the massive metal structure open as if it were made of cardboard. “Welcome to the carnival. Please enjoy yourselves, and remember to be safe above all else.”

  That last part seemed aimed at Gideon, who met Richard’s stare without so much as a flinch. “As if you needed to tell me that.” Gideon took Sally’s hand, and together, the two of them bolted off into the darkness. Part of me wanted to call out for them to stop, to wait for the adults so it would be safe, but that was ridiculous. Not only was Gideon older than all of us combined, he was also far and away the most powerful. The truth of the matter was that Sally was worlds safer at his side than ours.

  As they darted off, Richard pulled a small map from his back pocket and looked it over. “I think the main office is to the north. Should be a quick walk. Let’s get the power on and start checking this place out.”

  2.

  Finding the main office was a relatively painless process—the walkways were clear of debris, and most of the signs pointing to rides and attractions were still in place. True, the paint had chipped and writing had faded; however, the bones were still there. The longer I looked at this place, trying to see it through the lens of what it could be rather than what it was, the more convinced I became that it might be salvageable. Of course, most of the real information we’d need on that front was going to come from Bubba. Paint and tents were one thing; if the rides were in need of serious overhaul, that was a whole other level of cost.

  We’d found the office and were nearly inside when light suddenly filled up the sky. From our vantage point, we could see over the tops of the other booths and attractions to the Ferris wheel, which was burning brightly in the night sky as it began to play music and slowly turned in place. I was amazed it moved so fluidly, and that all the lights worked. Then I remembered that we had yet to actually turn the power on, and it made much more sense.

  “Gideon?” I asked.

  “Unless Sally has suddenly gotten much better at magic, I’d say that’s a fair guess,” Richard replied. “We’ll check that one out once they’re done with it.”

  Stepping inside, we made our way through the small building, passing up the nurse’s station and a tiny office with a desk that took up nearly all the space, arriving at a door that led down to a basement. Once inside, Richard and Bubba turned a few knobs and flipped a large switch that would have taken a normal person both arms to move. A soft hum of power filled the room, and overhead, several bulbs flickered and began to glow.

  “Huh, thought those would have been dead by now,” Bubba noted. “Does maintenance turn the power on when they come out here?”

  “Given how easily that switch moved and the lack of dust around here, I’m guessing so,” Richard said. “Now that we’ve got some juice flowing, what do you want to start with?”

  “Makes the most sense to start with the big-ticket items. Don’t mean shit if the deep fryers are an easy fix but the roller coaster needs thousands of dollars of work.”

  “I think I’ll look at the food stalls,” I said. “Concessions are going to be a big part of the overall income stream, after admittance fees and ride tickets, so getting a sense of what the place is equipped for, along with what it could potentially handle, will give us a good idea of whether or not that can help keep the carnival in the black.”

  Richard checked his map once more. “Looks like there’s a spinning ride not far from the Ferris wheel, and right next to it was a big café that sold . . . hot chowder?” His nose wrinkled slightly. “I think I’m starting to see why this carnival closed in the first place. Anyway, why don’t we head there? Bubba can check the ride, Fred can look over the café, and I can make sure Gideon isn’t levitating the Ferris wheel halfway to the clouds.”

  I was reasonably sure that Richard was joking—not that Gideon couldn’t do such a thing; I just presumed he wouldn’t be that ostentatious—however, I didn’t ask for confirmation as we made our way up from the basement and out of the building. Through the years, I’d learned that the less I knew about what the ancient dragon wanted and could do, the happier I was overall.

  It took a few turns to make our way toward the Ferris wheel—which was still brightly lit and easy to see, but required navigating around the rest of the area to get to—however, we eventually made it. Sure enough, there was the spinning ride Richard had mentioned. A surprisingly intact sign above the platform labeled it the “Lunch Thief,” which was a name that both conveyed what it would do to those who rode and made me wonder who on earth would ever get on such a thing. Rebranding was going to be critical for a lot of these elements, it seemed, if the carnival was going to make money once more. I made a few notes as I walked away from the Lunch Thief, which Bubba was already pulling up panels on so he could dig around inside.

  The café was indeed directly by the Lunch Thief, just around a corner which in no way would have obscured the sounds of people losing their stomach contents or blocked the smell of cooking chowder from those on the ride. It was like the exact opposite of synergy, and part of me couldn’t help wondering if the whole set-up was an intentionally cruel joke played by the original owner. Location aside, though, the café had actually held up rather well, despite years of abandonment. Most of the tables and chairs were a loss, which meant the whole lot would need replacing, but since they were the cheap plastic kind, it was a relatively minor expense. It was a nice space overall, with plenty of room to host lots of folks taking a break to get food. Near the edge of the seating was a slightly blocked off area that looked as though it had been used for storage. With minimal restructuring, I imagined it could host a stage instead, something to provide some live—or even pre-recorded—music to block out any sounds making their way over from the Lunch Thief.

  Inside the café, I found things in similar condition. There was wear, sure, and some dust, but minimal rusting and rot. While Bubba would need to come check all the appliances over to be sure, it looked from a cursory glance like the place could be easily salvaged. It would need to start serving something other than chowder, obviously, but that was an easy fix. Maybe it could focus on smells not so taxing to the senses of those being spun around a ride. Sandwiches, fried foods, things like that. Actually, why not pick something with a fragrance that might be an aid, rather than a hindrance? Homemade ginger snaps would fill the air with a pleasant scent, and make a good nausea aid for those who’d already ridden the Lunch Thief.

  I stooped down to examine the counter space, mentally trying to find space for two extra ovens, and that was when I heard it: the sound of footsteps racing along outside. I’d have assumed it was Sally and Gideon, except that there was only one set of feet, and they were much too heavy to belong to a child. Or a dragon masquerading as a c
hild. Hauling myself back up, I peered through the dirty windows and out into the eating area, trying to pin down the source of the steps. I’d nearly located them when a new noise burst through the air, loud screeches of terrible rock music obscuring every other sound nearby.

  Darting out the door, I looked around, only to find the same empty café I’d left moments prior. With horrid guitar and off-beat drums in my ears, it was impossible to hear even my own thoughts, so I followed the noise back over to its source: the Lunch Thief. It was spinning out as Bubba smacked at something on the controls, with Richard a few feet away covering his ears. Both of them appeared to be in pain, until Bubba finally found the right button, which mercifully ended the noise and caused the ride to slow down.

  “Well,” Bubba said, speaking much louder than he actually needed to, “the good news is that this one still mostly works. Bad news is that if we don’t find a way to install a better soundtrack, no one’s going to get within a mile of the damn thing.”

  “Make that two miles for therians.” Richard rubbed his temples and shook his head, sending his long golden hair spraying around. “Did Lonnie’s grandfather owe some garage band a favor, or did he just genuinely hate his own customers?”

  “Given that he put a chowder café next to a ride designed to make people queasy, I’m leaning toward the latter,” I said. “But I’ve got good news, too. It looks like the café is in good shape overall. If Bubba gives the thumbs up on the appliances, you’re looking at a solid venue in need of mostly cosmetic alterations.”

  Bubba patted the Lunch Thief’s console gently, careful not to accidentally turn the music back on. “Same here. Needs some tweaks, and some safety features added, but overall, it ain’t too bad.”