Itsy-Bitsy Spider

by Dale Mayer

  He stared. “Wow!”

  The sheriff nodded. “Right? I’d buy her place just for the view.”

  “And that’s something to keep in mind too.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Her daughter told me that Bonnie refused to sell the place, even with a million-dollar offer,” he said. Then remembering Queenie’s words, he added, “Maybe … somebody decided they had to have it anyway.”

  *

  Maddy sat at the little boy’s bedside. She’d done what she knew to do, but that black energy wouldn’t shift. She’d tugged. She’d pulled. She’d wrapped it up in love. And still the black energy persisted. The boy’s energy had surprised her, but, even with his energy paired with hers, she hadn’t been able to make the black energy shift.

  She’d worked on the little boy physically and in spiritual form. She didn’t understand. But she needed to. Otherwise Timmy would die.

  No luck? Stefan murmured.

  No, she whispered back, her tiredness echoing in the one word. I don’t understand.

  I might.

  She straightened. What? What am I missing?

  The energy is being masked.

  How? I can’t see a foreign energy.

  Yes, but I can from farther away. He’s masking the funnel and feeding the energy as you take it away.

  Shocked, she jumped out of her body. Show me.

  But he didn’t need to. As they pulled farther back, she could see where the cord disappeared into the air. Only now, even farther back, she could see where that masking energy was inside the little boy—integrated so deep into the boy’s system as if they were one.

  She severed the cord at the point where it disappeared. Then she dove inside the child and poured love into his system, filling his bones, his muscles, his veins with healing energy.

  When she pulled back, drained, yet more exhilarated than she could believe, and settled into her physical form, she heard the little boy asking, Mommy, where am I?

  *

  “What the hell is she up to?” the Watcher said to himself.

  He stared at Queenie as she headed out of the tent after yelling at her boss. The carnival boss appeared to be the one person Queenie didn’t get along with. The Watcher didn’t know how he felt about her having the friends she did. While everybody needed somebody, these guys were really more caricatures than real people. Some of them were downright ugly. And Queenie, with her stupid fake hat over her head, looked pretty ridiculous herself. Of course she only wore it when she was giving out messages.

  Now she looked like a lost young woman, as if the world had been too hard, too tough, and she was done. He could see from her energy that she was down in some way, just not sure what exactly was happening.

  Even going about his own day, doing his own job, he’d always been drawn back to Queenie, wondering what she was up to. He knew who she was and what she was to him, but she didn’t know who he was and what he was to her. That was really disappointing. He wondered if he could leave her little clues. He’d left her one in the lake, but she wasn’t getting the message. He might have to do it again.

  He thought about all the other cases he’d worked on, wondering if he should imitate one or find a new unique way. He prided himself on his creativity. He wasn’t much for following other people’s ideas or methodologies. But he wanted her to know who he was. And yet, somehow he had to do that without letting the cat out of the bag. Because the only thing more dangerous than playing the game was getting caught.

  Just then a vacuum-like suction hit his energy, one of the many threads he’d been playing with. The pressure was intense. He fought to control it, only to suddenly be released, his energy cut, the thread disconnected.

  With a precision-like skill, his victim had been freed, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  Pissed, he dove in to reconnect, only to slam into the equivalent of a stone wall in ether form. He couldn’t see in that direction nor could he move in that direction.

  And that just pissed him off more.

  He’d finally found someone with better skills than he had.

  And that made him seriously angry. That was not allowed.

  Chapter 9

  Friday, Midafternoon …

  Queenie walked around the amusement park. The day was over as far as she was concerned. After her crappy night, she’d struggled to get through her heavy line of customers. She was exhausted and chilled to the bone, even though it was the hot, sunny day the weatherman had promised. Clouds had covered the sun for most of the day; then, late in the afternoon, it rained. Most of the time that would have been fine by her.

  But her tent developed a leak, and dampness had set in. She attempted contacting Carlos several times, but he hadn’t been too bothered about coming to rescue her. She’d taken the opportunity, after she’d finished a long line of people, to put up the Closed sign and escape. She sent Carlos one last text message, saying, Fine. I’m now closed for the day. And she bolted from the tent before he had a chance to stop her.

  The only thing that mattered to Carlos, it seemed, was money. And, if she shut down her tent, then he wasn’t making money from her.

  Now she was on the far side of the park, where he wasn’t likely to find her. The only good thing was, no uninvited spiders had showed up at the tent today. Perversely she found herself missing them. Maybe after their early morning message to her at her apartment, they didn’t need her anymore. They hadn’t been visible when she got up this morning. And she’d looked. Boy, had she looked. Did spirits connect to other spirits? Had her son connected to this little boy as she thought? And, if so, why?

  She was still musing when she reached her destination. One of her favorite hot dog vendors was here. She picked her way around a puddle and came up on his blind side. “Did you save me one?” she asked hopefully.

  Lugar spun around, caught sight of her and grinned. He manned the stand and could work the machines like a pro. He was one of those invaluable assistants, a jack-of-all-trades kind of guy. He bent down, pulled out a tray from the open-ended warming shelf, lifted a plate from inside and held it out for her.

  She clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, it’s pierogi day,” she cried out. “I forgot.”

  “How could you possibly forget?” he joked. “It’s your favorite.”

  The pierogies were massive. Three were on the plate, but she knew she’d be lucky if she could even eat two.

  He motioned toward a stool and said, “Sit down and eat.”

  She did. The pierogies were barely warm. He’d wrapped them in tin foil, but that had probably been a couple hours ago. She was famished and exhausted, and she knew it must have shown on her face.

  Lugar took one look, shook his head and said, “What’s wrong with you, girlie?”

  She made a face at him. “Carlos has been running Facebook ads, of all things. Drumming up business for me. And it’s been working too well.”

  He stared at her, his mouth dropping open. “He’s been what?”

  She nodded. “Who knew he was such a businessman?”

  “And, even if he did, then what?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve had lines outside the tent for days now. Not too sure how much longer I can keep going at this pace. I told him that he had to cut it back, but he said I should make up answers.” She scoffed. “And he wants me to run through the people faster, with less effort.”

  Lugar looked at her sorrowfully. “And, of course, an answer like that would just piss you off.”

  She chuckled. But she took another bite of the pierogi, moaning in delight. It was better not to answer questions like that.

  “I should’ve saved you an extra one,” Lugar said. He nodded toward the plate she’d already half emptied. “You do need extra food when you’re so exhausted.”

  “The trouble is, my stomach won’t handle any more right now.” She finished most of the second pierogi and just sat quietly.

  A man came up beside her, looked at her pla
te, turned to Lugar with a frown and said, “Hey, I was just here asking for those, and you said there weren’t any.”

  Lugar nodded. “She bought and paid for those earlier and asked me to hold them until she was done with her shift.”

  The man puffed up like he would lunge at Lugar, but Lugar was no small man to take on. He just crossed his arms over his chest and waited for the man to decide what he would do. Spluttering angrily, he stormed off to a different stall.

  She smiled at Lugar. “Thanks for saving me these.”

  “No problem. What are you gonna do about Carlos?”

  She sighed. “Is there anything anybody can do? Money drives him. It doesn’t matter if I fall over dead from the work he’s piling on me. The only thing he’ll care about is, if I stop, how he won’t make any more money.” She snorted. “Oh, wait. He’ll just hire somebody else to sit in there with that silly headdress and make him money. They’ll probably make him a ton more because they’ll be charlatans and will say whatever everybody wants to hear.”

  “You really do have the sight, don’t you?” Lugar asked.

  She tossed him a glance and nodded. “But, like anybody with the sight, there’s no guarantee it will cooperate and give you the answers when you need them.”

  The two sat quietly as she nibbled away on the third pierogi. She had planned to take it home, but her stomach kept telling her it was still empty. She slowed down, hoping it would fill up, plus giving more time for her brain to get the message from her stomach. But evidently two pierogies weren’t enough. She continued to plow through the third pierogi until it too was gone.

  She sat back, patting her tummy. “Now it’s feeling better.”

  “Good.” Lugar nodded behind her. “Because Carlos just found you.”

  She stiffened and glared at Lugar. He held up his hands and said, “I just caught sight of him myself. But it’s too late to run now.”

  Her shoulders slumped, she pushed the empty plate toward him. “Any of that coffee left?”

  He turned to look. “Yeah, you might as well have what you want. It’s lukewarm.”

  “It’s still coffee,” she muttered.

  He poured her a cup, and she’d just wrapped her hands around it, warming up her fingers and the palms of her hands, when Carlos snapped like a turtle at her. She let his tirade blow over her head and turned to look at him.

  “Unless you want me to quit right now, you’ll back up five paces, and you’ll shut the hell up.”

  Both Lugar and Carlos stared at her in surprise.

  Her glare upped in wattage. “And that should tell you how exhausted I am. Because normally it would take a hell of a lot for me to start swearing at you, but right now I am so done.”

  As if Carlos finally saw how exhausted she was, he frowned and said, “How many people did you have through there today?”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll tell me when you start counting the money,” she said, “but it was well over a hundred.”

  He clapped his hands in joy.

  She stopped it right there with her hand up in the air. “And don’t forget half of that’s mine.”

  He nodded. “Of course it is. Of course it is.” But then he couldn’t resist doing a little jig.

  “I presume you have my replacement ready,” she said, the fatigue evident in her voice.

  He stopped and stepped forward. “Why would I replace you?”

  “Because you haven’t done what I asked. You know I can’t handle that many people.”

  “I told you how to handle them,” he cried out.

  She just glared at him. “If you don’t want me to start broadcasting the color of your underwear all around this amusement park, plus who you slept with last night, then I suggest you shut up about asking me to fake it.”

  Ever-so-slowly his jaw closed, and he pinched his lips tight. He stared down at her, drawing himself up to his full height, which was still only shoulder height for Lugar, and said, “You’d be making it up, and nobody would believe you.”

  “Everybody here would believe me,” she snapped. “Because everybody who works here already knows I’m the real deal.”

  Carlos hemmed and hawed but was obviously a little more conciliatory.

  She wondered if she’d have to prove it to him. She knew he wore purple underwear. She didn’t give a damn. The fact that he slept with Jimbo the Giant was something he probably didn’t want the rest of the world to know. Jimbo was a teddy bear. But he could sure do with somebody a whole lot nicer than Carlos.

  Carlos stepped back and said, “You’re bluffing.”

  “Sure. I’ll go tell Jimbo that.”

  He gave a horrified gasp and dashed forward. In a harsh whisper he said, “You can’t know that.”

  “I know it. Now so does Lugar.”

  Lugar stared at Carlos. And then over at Queenie. She held up a finger, wanting him to be quiet.

  But Carlos was dancing in fury. “It’s not true. It’s not true. You can’t go telling lies like that.”

  “I won’t tell anybody else, providing you cut back on those ads and give me more time off.”

  He nodded. “Why don’t you take off two days a week? I’ll get somebody else in to take your place on Tuesday and Thursday.”

  She slowly raised her eyebrows at him. “Somebody who can just make up the answers people want to hear?”

  “Why not?” he wailed. “They want answers.”

  “They want the truth,” she corrected. But inside her own mind she realized she wasn’t quite telling the whole truth. People wanted answers, but they didn’t necessarily want the answer she gave. They wanted the answers they wanted to hear. And that was a different story. She didn’t know how she felt about Carlos bringing in a replacement for two days. Could she afford to take two days off a week? In a way she could because she was making so much more money on the other five days, but she’d been wondering if he’d been cheating her from her half as it was. Now she wanted to see if he would give her the full amount of money.

  “We’ll try it this week,” she announced. “But I need my pay today.”

  He shook his head.

  “You didn’t pay me yesterday either,” she snapped. “That was our deal. At the end of the day, you would pay me.”

  “You left early yesterday,” he slid in smoothly.

  “That’s fine. Now you owe me for two days.”

  He glared at her.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and said, “And no cheating me.”

  In front of Lugar, he straightened and glared at her. “I never cheat.”

  “You don’t like getting caught cheating, but, like everybody else, you fudge the line.”

  His face went red.

  And she got a vision of him sliding some money into his pocket before handing out a wage. It hadn’t been hers, or she’d have taken him to the cleaners for it. “I don’t particularly trust the person who’s so busy counting out money that he doesn’t care about the people making it for him.”

  She must be tired. She never talked to him like this. Her filter was gone. It was also a sign she was getting ready to leave. Because she didn’t give a damn. And, when she didn’t give a damn, she shouldn’t be here. The trouble was, she didn’t really know what else she would do. This wasn’t an easy job to replace. Yet, she could do something else full-time. She wondered about opening up her own shop, having a website, something along that line, but it still took money to do that. Maybe if she did this gig for another few months, she could get enough money to set that up. She could do readings over the phone potentially too.

  She sat here, contemplating what her options were, when Carlos said in a stiff voice, “Let’s go to the tent and check it ourselves.”

  She nodded and then froze because she saw a vision in her head of Carlos going through her tent, taking money out of the jar and stuffing it willy-nilly into his right-hand pocket. And she hadn’t needed to touch him to get that vision. Interesting. Also a sign of her growing s
kills. A change that both intrigued her and worried her. She needed to learn to control her skills now before they grew any bigger. Catching Carlos right now would do a lot for her self-confidence—and would allow her to walk from here. She didn’t know to what exactly, … but time to let go of her past.

  “Only if right now you empty that right-hand pocket on the counter and show me that ten, twenty and a bunch of fives.”

  He cried out as if she’d injured him.

  She shook her head. “No, while Lugar is here to watch, I want you to do that for me.”

  He shook his head. “I will not.”

  “Then I quit,” she said. “And the money in that jar is mine. What money you’ve left there. Because you just walked through my tent, picked a handful out of the money jar and stuffed it in your pocket.” She called out to the rest of the employees gathering around them, “Did you know Carlos here is cheating you from your full pay?”

  He cried out, “No, no, no, no. You can’t say that.”

  “I can say that,” she snapped. “Oh, but that’s okay. You’ll hire a charlatan to take my place and to make more money for you. If you do that, you do it without me. Because right now you’re cheating me, and I want my pay for yesterday and today.”

  He glared at her.

  But she wouldn’t let up. “And you empty that damn pocket of yours so everybody can see I’m telling the truth and you’re lying.”

  “Hey, I picked up some money earlier today,” he protested. “No way to prove that money came from your jar.”

  She closed her eyes for a brief second and saw the mess of fives. There was one twenty and possibly a ten in there. She opened her gaze, looked at Lugar and said, “It’s full of fives. There’s one twenty and one ten in there. They all came from my tent.”

  Jimbo, standing behind his lover, stepped forward and said, “Carlos?”

  Carlos was so furious he stomped his feet.

  She glared at him. “Empty your pockets right now, or I’ll get Jimbo to help.”