Carnival of Souls

by Nancy Holder

  Buffy thought to ask about the drama—part of the fun of detention was being forced to eat lunch with the other prisoners, so she had spent most of her time fending off David Hahn—but she was too lost in the anticipation of what lay ahead in her immediate future:

  I am meeting Angel in the Tunnel of Love.

  Then they were there. The section of the clearing in front of the carnival had been transformed into a grassy parking lot.

  “Hey, that’s Carl Palmer, Mariann Palmer’s brother,” Willow said, pointing to a guy sliding a piece of paper beneath the windshield wiper of a nearby Volvo station wagon. “I saw him coming out of the copy store yesterday. He had just gotten another batch of missing-person flyers. You know, for Mariann.” She leaned forward. “Didn’t you say you staked her last night?”

  Buffy sighed, watching Carl as Giles rolled down his window and handed a parking attendant some money. There were dark circles under Carl’s eyes. He looked like an old man, not a kid one year younger than Buffy.

  “Yeah,” she said softly. “God, I wish I could tell him to stop looking for her.”

  “I know,” Giles murmured, pausing a moment to watch Carl too. Then he convinced the car to move forward toward an empty space. “But you do understand why you can’t, yes?” His voice was kind, gentle.

  “I do.” Occupational hazard, keeping uncomfortable secrets like this one.

  “I wonder what it would be like, to wonder your entire life what happened to someone you care about,” Willow said. “I so don’t envy him.”

  “Agreed. He is to be pitied,” Giles murmured, turning off the engine.

  Because I didn’t save her, Buffy thought. I failed. So many times, I don’t get it done….

  Giles turned to her. “Are you all right?”

  She pressed her lips into a little smile and bobbed her head. “I’m good,” she said, but her voice was scratchy. She cleared her throat and reached for the door handle.

  They joined the masses of Sunnydale citizens moving toward the entrance.

  “So far, typical carnival,” Xander said, “not that we usually have carnivals in Sunnydale. Except for our own lame school carnival.”

  “It’s fun,” Willow protested. “I always win a cake at the cakewalk.”

  “And I don’t. So where’s the fun?” Xander argued, smiling to show he was goofing with her.

  “Hurry, hurry, hurry, step right up!” cried a man dressed like Uncle Sam in a blue jacket and yards-long red satin pants covering a pair of stilts. He stood in the center of the entrance gate, and he looked a little bit like Professor Caligari.

  “Come see the wonders of Professor Caligari’s Traveling Carnival! The Chamber of Horrors! The freak show! The fortune-teller! One price for all the attractions! A bargain at twice the price!”

  Two ticket booths were backed up against the sides of the entrance gate. Giles handed the ticket-taker four of the free passes Caligari had given Buffy.

  Securing a map of the grounds, Giles studied it as they walked beneath the entrance arch. Unlike Buffy’s first visit, the carnival was now wall-to-wall people. The smells of popcorn and hot dogs mingled with body odor, perfume, piney evergreens, and sawdust, which had been strewn everywhere.

  “I smell nachos,” Xander said dreamily.

  “We need to go to the left to reach the Tunnel of Love,” Giles said.

  “Yikes, nightmare merry-go-round at three o’clock,” Xander announced.

  They all stopped to stare.

  The central core of the merry-go-round was an elaborate automated diorama. Men dressed in drooping hats, puffy shirts, and colored tights rode horses whose backs were covered with fancy blankets. Some of the men wore leather gloves decorated with tassels. Large black birds topped with brown leather hoods perched on the gloves.

  Other men, less richly dressed, stood beside the riders, banging drums attached to leather belts and clashing cymbals strapped to their hands.

  As the carousel began to rotate, more calliope music could be heard.

  “What is that, a happy funeral march?” Willow asked.

  “Check out the animals,” Xander added. “Maybe this thing is the freak show.”

  On the rotating platform of the carousel, eager kids and indulgent parents rode brightly painted dragons, unicorns, and what looked like a hippopotamus with a fish tail.

  Giles nodded to himself. “These are all figures from medieval folklore. “That’s a gryphon. Over there, a hippocampus. That would fit with the Hans Von Der Sieben time period. The scene in the middle is a great hunt. The lord of the manor would gather all his friends. Those drummers are called threshers. They would frighten the wildlife out of their hiding places so the hunters could slaughter them.”

  “Hey, check out that moon,” Xander said as he pointed toward the carousel’s ceiling. “It’s so clean I can see myself in it.”

  Above the hunting scene a silvery sphere hung from a cord covered with silver stars. The carousel’s patrons were reflected in it as they rode past. Though in real life the parents and kids were laughing and smiling, their reflections appeared to be screaming as the images elongated.

  Buffy stared at the mirror ball and frowned to herself. Her spider sense was tingling. The images reminded her of something, but she couldn’t remember what. Something she had seen in another mirror. Something she had dreamed….

  A woman in a down vest and a pair of jeans laughed and waved at someone on the carousel. She wasn’t riding the merry-go-round; she was standing in front of it, watching other people having a good time.

  Buffy knew how that worked.

  The people on the merry-go-round were so lucky. Look at that kid; he was maybe three, had no cares in the world. He had no idea that when the sun went down, the world changed. He was free of the knowledge that she carried: Every night might be her last. It made it hard to get out of bed some days.

  Maybe she’d just ride the carousel for a while; round and round she goes, where she’ll stop nobody knows. Just around and around, relaxing, taking a load off.

  As she took a step, the music changed. She could name that tune: “A-hunting we will go, a-hunting we will go!”

  “Buffy?” Giles called.

  The Slayer blinked and looked around. The others had moved on ahead. About twenty feet away Willow was peering at the map and Xander was tucking in his shirt and smoothing back his hair—decidedly un-Xander-like behavior.

  With an impatient expression, Giles gestured for Buffy to catch up.

  Buffy gave the carousel one more glance, then hurried to rejoin the others.

  “We agreed to stick together,” Giles reminded her.

  “Like glue,” Buffy promised.

  “Or a half-melted candy cane stuck to a couch cushion,” Xander offered; then, off everyone’s looks, “What? I can’t come up with analogies?”

  “Not gross ones,” Buffy said.

  “Gross? Candy canes are sweet and nutritious,” Xander argued. “Even when fuzzy.”

  Eww, yet speaking of sweet:

  There he was: tall, dark, and Angel, standing beside a wooden heart-shaped sign on a post that said TUNNEL OF LOVE THIS WAY. A painted cupid had notched an arrow in his bow that pointed to the left.

  Buffy’s boyfriend was wearing his long, black coat. She felt her stomach go up and down just like the carousel horses as she and the others walked toward him.

  “Good evening,” Giles said.

  Angel nodded at him, and at Willow and Xander. Then he said, “Buffy.”

  Just hearing her name on his lips made her evening, but she forced herself to stay cool and composed.

  “Oh my God, Xander, it’s the drama!” Willow cried.

  A young couple sauntered toward them from the direction of the ride. They were clinging to each other as if they had just survived the sinking of the Titanic, and they were kissing so hard that Buffy was afraid one of them would, like, deflate.

  They shuffled past Buffy and Company, still locked in eternal
make-out.

  “Okay, I’m on board. That is weird,” Xander announced. “The ride’s possessed.”

  “I missed the drama,” Buffy said, looking from Willow and Xander to the couple and back again. “What’s going on?”

  Willow pointed at the pair as they smooched on into oblivion. “That’s Melody Nierman and Chris Holt,” she said, probably for Giles’s benefit. “Today at lunch she told her whole table that she found out he’s on antidepressants. She made fun of him for it. Called him a ‘psycho looney.’”

  “How perfectly hideous,” Giles said.

  Buffy’s cheeks burned. She wondered if they knew that Cordelia once had used that trademark term to refer to her.

  Willow continued, “He left the cafeteria humiliated.”

  “Perhaps they had a change of heart,” Giles said. “As happens in your age group. Quite often, I might add.”

  “Yeah, some people are into drama like that,” Xander ventured. “The making-up smoochies make it worth it for them. ’Cause sometimes those smoochies are hot.”

  “Passion,” Angel said. “It’s what drives some people.” He cocked his head. “You said her name is Melody Nierman? Her cousin Claire was the marine I told you about.”

  Giles took that in. “Possible covert government operation,” he mused.

  “Hi, Buffy! Hi, um, her friends!” It was Harmony, she of the blood-drive fund-raiser. Bursting through the crowd, she skipped over to the gang with both sets of French-manicured nails curled around the biceps of none other than Marc Greenfield, who had been dating Ellen Hubermann ever since freshman year. “Guess what! We’re a thing!”

  Marc nuzzled her temple. Harmony reached up on tiptoe and kissed his chin.

  “Let’s go back through again,” Marc stage-whispered.

  “Okay!” Harmony giggled at the others and said, “Catch ya later!” She and Marc hung a U-turn and trotted off together like they were in a road-show production of The Wizard of Oz.

  “What the hell was that all about?” said a sharp voice behind Buffy. It was none other than Cordelia. She was exquisitely dressed in a black cashmere sweater, dark pants, boots, and a black-and-white-checked jacket. Her hair was pulled back and Buffy hated to admit it, but she looked very pretty.

  Cordelia’s perfectly sculpted brows lowered as she narrowed her eyes. “I can’t believe Harmony was actually speaking to you guys in public. And what is she thinking, stealing such a B-list guy?”

  “Hey, Cordelia,” Xander said. “How nice of you to greet us all.”

  She rolled her eyes and exhaled loudly. “Oh, please. I see you, you see me. What are you people doing here?” She lowered her voice and said conspiratorially, “Did some evil vampires sneak in without paying?”

  “Cordelia, please, keep your voice down,” Giles admonished her. “As we’ve discussed, there are certain secrets…”

  “Yes, sorry.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “I’m just so shocked to see those two together.” She whipped out her cell phone. “I have to call everyone I know.”

  “I definitely think we should investigate,” Buffy said to Angel. “Don’t you?”

  “Where are you going? What are you investigating?” Cordelia asked Xander. “Yes, hi, Emily! I have dish! Call me back!”

  “The Tunnel of Luuuv,” Xander replied with a silky tone.

  Cordelia’s hand was poised over the keypad of her cell phone. “I didn’t know that was even a real ride. I thought it was just some made-up thing for those stupid sixties beach movies.”

  “Actually, not,” Giles said. “Made up. Although they are from a gentler era.”

  “Yeah, the Psycho Beach Party years,” Xander put in.

  “Everyone who rides it comes out smooching,” Buffy explained.

  “That’s just terrible,” Cordelia deadpanned. She punched in a number. “Samantha! You will never guess!”

  Giles ignored them. “I’m reconsidering our plan,” he announced. “If the Tunnel of Love adversely affects the judgment of those who ride it, perhaps we should attempt an alternate course of action.”

  “Oh, what could it hurt,” Xander said. “Especially if you go with someone you know you would never be tempted to kiss.”

  “There’s a thought,” Giles mused. Buffy could practically see the gears in his brain whirling as they all resumed walking.

  “Maybe you should ride with Giles,” Willow said to Xander.

  “You want me to be seen riding in the Tunnel of Love with a male librarian,” Xander said flatly.

  “Or Xander could ride with me,” Cordelia said. “Because there’s no way I would ever be interested in a loser like him.”

  “There’s a plan. Because also no way would I ever be interested in a vapid gold digger like her,” Xander shot back.

  Buffy was very impressed that he knew the word “vapid.”

  Unphased and unimpressed, Cordelia snorted. “As if.”

  “I can ride with you, Buffy,” Willow said.

  “Wil-low,” Buffy muttered through clenched teeth. Willow raised her eyebrows. Buffy cleared her throat and jerked her head the merest inch in the direction of Angel.

  “But what if you-know-who gets, like, too smoochie?” Willow whispered. “And he goes all, ‘Grr’?”

  “I’m the Slayer. I’ll handle it,” Buffy whispered back.

  Giles shook his head. “But you two are on record as being attracted to each other. You’re hardly good candidates to resist possible enchantment.”

  “Ah, but we’re Slayer and vampire,” Buffy replied. “We can fight the unknown better than any of you if it attacks us, say, with fists or a claw hammer.” She tried not to look too eager.

  “All right, then,” said Giles. “I must say this goes against my better judgment, but as in other matters, I—”

  “Yay,” Buffy said.

  Giles gave her a look. “Willow and I will serve as the control group, as it were. We’ll sit out the ride. At least we will be safe and unaffected.”

  “Good idea,” Willow murmured. “Sitting it out.”

  “I’m only doing this for the good of humanity,” Cordelia said.

  “I’m willing to bet that’s what you always say,” Xander shot back.

  “Well, here we are.” Giles put his hands on his hips as they came in sight of the potentially evil Tunnel of Love.

  Laughing and teasing, guys and girls Buffy’s age waited their turn to climb up onto a platform and then sit in a scuffed white fiberglass rectangle—call them actual boats only if you were feeling generous—with a triangular orange beak and beady, raised eyes extending from the front.

  The procession of swan boats drifted in shallow water toward a dark gray fiberglass cave that was maybe fifteen feet high. A section on the right side of the cave had worn away, revealing some tar paper and a two-by-four. Fog billowed from inside the cave, enveloping each boat as it entered.

  “Where’s the exit?” Willow asked, her gaze traveling from the line of waiting riders to the boats disappearing inside. Empty boats drifted past a tattooed man in a red T-shirt at the control panel, but there were no people getting out of them.

  “The ride must end on the opposite side of the tunnel,” Angel said. “I’m with Giles. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I’m not sure any of us should ride it.”

  “Look,” Buffy said, walking over to Angel. “We’re here to see what’s going on. How are we going to do that if we don’t, you know, do things? I vote for riding the ride. Let’s just all make a pledge that no one deliriously hooks up tonight. Deal?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Come on, dork. Get in line,” Cordelia grumped at Xander, grabbing his sweater sleeve and edging behind Angel and Buffy as they joined the queue.

  It was a bit of a wait, but Buffy and Angel finally reached their swan. Buffy climbed in first, sitting on a very uncomfortable wooden seat with an inch-thick layer of vinyl padding, which suddenly became more comfortable once Angel’s hip brushed hers.

&
nbsp; “Well, this is cozy,” Buffy said. She was pretty jazzed.

  “Am I crowding you?” Angel asked with a sexy smile.

  “What do you think?” she answered coyly, while her heart treated her rib cage like a mosh pit.

  She looked over her shoulder at Xander and Cordelia. They were arguing. What about, Buffy had no clue. Buffy was sorry that Willow wasn’t going to be in the swan with Xander. Maybe one day Xander would finally wake up and smell the hottie.

  “Here we go,” Angel said as the boat began to move.

  They drifted toward the cavern entrance, fog wafting toward them. It was scented, and it smelled like bathroom deodorizer. Okay, not quite as romantic as she had hoped but, darkness, boyfriend…what was not to love?

  Angel put his arm around her shoulders and rockets blasted off inside her stomach. She leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, feeling the joy.

  “Let’s go this way,” Giles said to Willow as he began to move through the crowds. “We’ll wait for them at the exit.”

  She nodded, feeling dejected and rejected. Xander and Cordelia Chase were in the Tunnel of Love together. It seemed so weird. And also wrong.

  But to be honest, she was also a little relieved. If there was something to the theory that the Tunnel magically made people get together, she didn’t want Xander to finally finish that end-of-summer-beginning-of-fall kiss that that stupid vampire had interrupted, just because he was under a spell.

  “You coming, Willow?” Giles asked her.

  “Yes,” she said softly. “Of course.”

  Inside the Tunnel of Love, Angel could hear Buffy’s heartbeat picking up speed as he put his arm around her shoulders. Accompanied by syrupy elevator music, their boat bobbed along the mist-laden waters past cardboard displays of bordering roses and hearts.

  A male figure dressed in dusty Renaissance clothing came within sight. He was stretching out his arms to a girl in an equally dusty dark blue gown about five feet above him on a plywood balcony painted to look like stone. The figures might be wax, or plaster, but they weren’t very lifelike.

  Buffy giggled. “This is pretty dorky,” she said. “But it’s fun.”

  The boat drifted past the figures. The next display was on Buffy’s side of the boat. It portrayed a beautiful Egyptian princess holding a snake against her chest.