Carniepunk: Parlor Tricks (Elemental Assassin)

by Jennifer Estep

  All around me, folks laughed and cheered and clapped and whistled. But I tuned out the cacophony and looked past the bright lights and blur of movement onstage. One by one, my eyes scanned the shadows and all the workers behind the scenes manning the lights, sound system, smoke cannons, and all the other things that went into such a production.

  I wondered if this was where Elizabeth had been taken.

  It would be easy to snatch someone out of the crowd. With night already settled in, and all the spotlights focused on the stage, deep, dark shadows surrounded the bleachers. All you’d have to do was wait for someone to get up to go get a drink or snack, follow them under the bleachers, and either rob, murder, or spirit them off to parts unknown. Since Elizabeth’s body hadn’t been found, I was assuming whoever had grabbed her had gone with the third option.

  I wondered what they’d wanted with the girl. Lots of terrible things happened in Ashland on a daily basis. Beatings, robberies, murders. Maybe Elizabeth had caught the eye of an unsavory character. Maybe someone had tried to mug her and she’d fought back. Maybe she’d seen something she shouldn’t have. Any one of those or a dozen other scenarios could have taken place, and I had no way of knowing which one.

  The only thing I did know was that something was going on at this so-called Carnival of Wondrous Wonders. The workers had all been too polite to Bria and too prepared to say that they hadn’t seen anything at all, almost like they’d been expecting those very types of questions about a missing girl. In fact, the whole thing seemed like a drill they’d gone through many times before, right down to their quick, pat denials.

  Finally, the clowns, the dancing bear, and the other performers left the stage, leaving Esmeralda alone once more.

  “And now for our final performance of the evening,” she said.

  The stage went dark. The bombastic music swelled for a few seconds before giving way to that low, booming drumroll. The lights dimmed again, then—

  BANG!

  “The Wheel of Death!” Esmeralda called out.

  A spotlight snapped on, highlighting a large white wheel with four spokes on it, two at the top and two at the bottom. The crowd oohed and aahed right on cue.

  Esmeralda held out her hand, and another spotlight lit up the stage. “Please welcome Arturo the Most Magnificent Bladesman!”

  BANG!

  More noise, more smoke, more theatrics. Esmeralda used another blast of her Air magic to sweep the smoke away, and a man appeared in the second spotlight—a giant who was almost seven feet tall, with slicked-back black hair and a long, drooping black mustache that curled up at the ends. He was dressed in a sleeveless green silk shirt and black pants, but the most interesting thing about him was the black leather sash he had slung over his wide, muscular chest—one that practically bristled with knives.

  I perked up. I liked knives.

  Bria noticed my sudden interest in the show. I couldn’t hear above the crowd noise, but I thought she snorted, either in disgust or amusement. I wasn’t sure which one.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen,” Esmeralda proclaimed, “watch in awe and wonder as I brave the Wheel of Death!”

  The crowd oohed and aahed some more as Arturo took Esmeralda’s arm and escorted her over to the wheel. She threw her top hat into the crowd, blew everyone a kiss, then turned and put her back against the wheel. She reached up and grabbed the two spokes at the top while she rested her stiletto boots against the two spokes at the bottom, forming a star shape with her body. One of the clowns got back up onstage and started turning a hand crank to made the Wheel of Death go ’round and ’round.

  Arturo and Esmeralda bantered back and forth for a minute before the giant pulled one of the knives from his sash. He used it to slice an apple that another clown handed to him, supposedly proving how razor-sharp the weapon was, then turned his attention to Esmeralda. Arturo held his knife out and frowned, his bushy black eyebrows drawing together in exaggerated concentration, as though this were the very first time he’d ever done his shtick.

  Thunk!

  A knife landed beside Esmeralda’s right arm, inches away from her dainty wrist.

  Thunk!

  Another knife, this one close to her left wrist.

  Thunk!

  Thunk!

  Two more knives, one on either side of her legs.

  And on and on it went, the crowd gasping at every safe throw, until Arturo had used all the knives in his sash and the Wheel of Death looked more like a pincushion than the cheap plywood it was. Finally, the contraption stopped, and Esmeralda got off. This time she was the one who plucked a knife from the wood. She turned to face Arturo, and the crowd collectively sucked in an excited breath as folks realized what she was about to do. Esmeralda paused and furrowed her lovely brow with the same dramatic effect Arturo had used before, then threw the weapon at him.

  The giant caught the knife between his teeth.

  Ta-da.

  I knew it was a trick, misdirection and sleight of hand, but I had to admit that they pulled it off well. I might have even believed it was real if I hadn’t felt another gust of Esmeralda’s Air magic sweep across the stage, blowing a bit of smoke over Arturo and obscuring him at just the right moment to help with the illusion.

  She took Arturo’s hand, and they both bowed low before—BANG!—disappearing in another puff of green smoke.

  Everyone in the crowd surged to their feet, clapping, whistling, and cheering. Even I joined in and politely applauded.

  “Don’t tell me the Wheel of Death finally impressed you,” Bria said as we trudged down the bleachers with everyone else.

  “Parlor tricks are all well and good if flash is all you’re going for,” I said. “But we both know that I use my knives for more . . . practical purposes.”

  Bria snorted again, but she gestured at the stage. “Come on. Since it looks like Esmeralda is the big attraction around here, let’s go see if she knows anything about Elizabeth.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.”

  She shrugged. “If I ask enough people enough questions, somebody will let something slip. They always do.”

  I followed her to the stage. Esmeralda and Arturo had reappeared and were autographing carnival fliers and posing for pictures. Bria and I stood by and waited until they finished with their fans. I eyed the knives, which had been tucked back into Arturo’s sash. They looked like decent blades, if a bit thin, but I could tell by the way the edges glinted that they were as sharp as he’d claimed them to be onstage. The giant himself was extremely muscular and showed off his enormous strength by picking up a couple of kids and bench-pressing them over his head, one in each hand, while their parents took pictures.

  Finally, all the autographs had been signed, all the photos had been taken, and the crowd drifted away, leaving Esmeralda and Arturo alone together. My sister stepped up to them and plastered a polite smile on her face.

  “Hi, I’m Detective Bria Coolidge with the Ashland Police Department. I was wondering if I might have a few moments of your time. . . .”

  She told them about Elizabeth and showed them the missing girl’s picture. Arturo gave it a cursory glance and shrugged, but Esmeralda took the photo from Bria and studied it carefully. Then she too shrugged and handed it back.

  “Sorry, Detective,” Esmeralda said. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen her. As you can see, we get quite a few teenagers in here—hard for one of them to stand out. Why, we had such a large group from Cypress Mountain that they practically took over the whole fairgrounds a few nights ago.”

  Bria nodded. That was pretty much the same line that all of the other workers had given her, although it sounded much smoother and far more sincere coming from Esmeralda. She definitely knew how to sell her act.

  The ringmaster looked at Bria and smiled. “But you, on the other hand, are quite striking. Has anyone ever told you what
lovely skin you have? Why, it’s practically flawless.”

  “Um, thanks,” Bria said.

  Esmeralda kept staring at my sister, as though Bria were a sculpture she was admiring. Up close, I could see that the ringmaster was pretty flawless herself, actually. Her skin was as pale and smooth as freshly fallen snow. Rich red highlights shimmered in her blond hair, while her eyes were a dark hazel, with flecks of gold flashing in the whiskey-colored depths.

  Arturo noticed his boss’s interest in Bria, and he peered at my sister a little more closely before glancing at Esmeralda. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question. She winked at him, and he nodded.

  The quick exchange made me wonder what they were up to. I tensed a little, once again ready to reach for one of my knives if Arturo came at us, but he turned and headed toward the main thoroughfare. I wondered where he was going, but I didn’t follow him. Keeping Bria in my sights was much more important.

  Esmeralda didn’t say anything to me. In fact, she didn’t so much as glance at me, but I was used to that. My dark chocolate-brown hair and gray eyes weren’t nearly as striking as Bria’s classic features.

  Finally, Bria cleared her throat. “Anyway, thanks for your help. I appreciate it and how nice all your workers have been, taking the time to look at the photo.”

  Esmeralda waved her hand. Her long nails were the same bloodred as her jacket. “No problem at all, Detective. You look thirsty. Be sure to get something to eat and drink before you head home for the night. The carnival stays open until midnight. Tell Cathy that Em sent you and she’ll give you a discount. I always like to help out local law enforcement. Why, it’s just disgraceful, the poor salaries they pay such decent, honest, hardworking folks like you.”

  I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. She obviously didn’t know how corrupt the police were in Ashland. With all the bribes they took, crooked cops around here did just fine. Some of them even had mansions up in Northtown, the rich, fancy, highfalutin part of town.

  “Thanks,” Bria said, managing to keep her face smoother than mine. “We’ll do that.”

  Esmeralda gave us another beaming smile and moved over to talk to one of the acrobats. But she kept her eyes fixed on Bria the whole time.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I murmured to my sister.

  “Yeah,” Bria said. “This place is starting to weird me out.”

  “It’s taken this long?”

  She shrugged. We left the stage area and walked down the main drag back toward the entrance.

  “Come on,” Bria said. “I missed dinner, so we might as well eat before we go. I’m starving.”

  We got in line at one of the concession stands that bore the name Cathy’s Sweets, although it looked like Cathy was serving up the usual carnival fare—burgers, fries, and all the greasy fixings in between. Smoke from the grill drifted out of the stand, mixing with the smells of sizzling meat, fresh-cut lemons, and cinnamon. I breathed in, enjoying the flavorful aromas, and my stomach rumbled in anticipation. Finally, it was our turn to order.

  “What can I get you?” The woman behind the counter gave us a tired, uninterested look.

  “I’ll have a grilled chicken sandwich, onion rings, and a sweet iced tea,” Bria said.

  “And you?” The woman looked at me.

  “Give me a lemonade, two corn dogs with spicy mustard, fries, a cinnamon-sugar pretzel, and a cone of cherry cotton candy,” I replied.

  Bria blanched a little at my choices, but she pulled some money out of her jeans pocket and handed it over the counter. A few minutes later, we sat down at a blue plastic picnic table to the right of the stand. Since the main show of the night was over, the crowd had thinned out quite a bit, and we were the only ones sitting in the shadows. I scanned the area. Once again I felt the eyes of the carnival workers on me, but since it didn’t seem like any of them were going to be stupid enough to approach us, I took a sip of my lemonade, then picked up one of my corn dogs.

  “Do you know how disgusting that is?” Bria asked, wrinkling her nose. “Not to mention what it’s going to do to your heart and arteries.”

  “It’s meat on a stick, batter-dipped and deep-fried,” I said. “If Finn were here, he’d say that it was nature’s perfect food.”

  My sister smiled at the mention of Finnegan Lane, who happened to be her significant other as well as my foster brother. “Yeah, well, Finn doesn’t need to eat that stuff any more than you do.”

  Instead of answering her, I dipped the corn dog in the mustard and took a big bite of it. The spicy heat of the mustard tickled my tongue, while the cornmeal batter on the meat was crispy on the outside but soft and fluffy on the inside. I was as hungry as Bria was, and we both downed our food. I even managed to convince her to eat some of the pretzel and cotton candy. She grumbled about all the sugar going straight to her ass, but she sighed with contentment after she took the first bite of the light-as-air cotton candy.

  “This was actually pretty good,” Bria said when we finished.

  She stood, grabbed her empty, greasy plates, and dumped them in a nearby trash can. She turned back to me and stopped, slapping at something on her neck. A second later, she crumpled to the ground.

  “Bria? Bria!”

  I leaped to my feet and started to go over to her, but something stung my arm. I looked down. A red-feathered dart stuck out of my bicep. I cursed and immediately yanked out the dart, even though I knew it was already too late.

  “Damn . . . tranquilizer . . . guns,” I mumbled as the realization of what happened flitted through my mind.

  I whirled around, searching for my attacker, but everything was fuzzy and distorted, as though I were staring at it through one of those freaky carnival mirrors. Still, I stumbled forward, heading toward Bria so I could see whether she was still breathing. Even as I tried to get to her, I was aware of someone slinking through the shadows, moving closer and closer to us. I blinked and Arturo came into focus for a moment. The giant was holding a small gun in his beefy hand.

  Esmeralda’s voice drifted out of the darkness: “Get them out of sight. Quickly.”

  That bitch had Arturo drug us, probably with the same tranquilizers they used on the dancing bear. She was going to pay for that—in blood. Even as I tried to palm one of my knives to fight back, everything grew fuzzier than before.

  The ground rushed up to meet my face. My eyes closed, and the world went black.

  I WOKE UP with my neck twisted at an awkward angle. At first I thought that I was at home in bed, but then the night came rushing back to me. Carnival. Missing girl. Questioning the workers. Esmeralda and her Wheel of Death. The dart stinging my arm.

  Since I didn’t know where I was or who might be watching, I kept still, although I cracked my eyes open.

  I was in a cage.

  Someone had tossed me in a cage, although the bars were made of thick wood instead of metal. My body was sprawled across a bed of hay, which reeked of some animal, probably one of the goats from the petting zoo. The musty stench made my nose itch and twitch, but I held back my sneeze. Unconscious people did not sneeze.

  I didn’t hear any movement, so I risked opening my eyes a little more. It looked like I was in some sort of makeshift barn. Old, weathered boards formed the walls before arching up to create the roof. A few more wooden cages like the one I was in sat inside the building, but the rest of them were empty. Tools and other odds and ends covered the walls, and I spotted the dancing bear’s big red ball slowly listing from side to side in the corner.

  But the most important thing in the barn was Bria.

  My sister was a few feet away from me, propped up in one of the clown cars. I watched her a few seconds. Her chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm, and some of my worry eased. She was still breathing, which meant that everything else that might have been done to her could be fixed. All I had to do was get us out of here. />
  Too bad I didn’t have my knives to help me with that.

  Arturo must have searched us, because I spotted my silverstone knives sitting on a wooden table a few feet away from the clown car. Bria’s gun and badge were also lying there—

  A low moan sounded, and I slowly turned my head to the side.

  Elizabeth Robbins lay in another clown car off to my left.

  She barely resembled the young, pretty girl in the photo Bria had given me. Her skin was waxy and gray, and her face had a hollow, gaunt, sunken look, as though she was on the verge of death. Her blond hair was matted, and large clumps of it had fallen out. The golden strands littered her slumped shoulders like the hay in my cage. The only reason I knew it was her was because she was wearing the same diamond heart necklace as in the photo Bria had shown me.

  What the hell had happened to the girl? I didn’t know, but I was going to get her and Bria out of here before things got any worse. I started to reach for my Ice magic to create a set of lockpicks so I could get out of my cage when the barn door opened and Esmeralda and Arturo stepped inside.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” Arturo said as he hurried after the ringmaster. “I mean, this chick is a cop. Not some moody teenage girl.”

  “Are you kidding me? Did you not see her? She’s perfect,” Esmeralda said.

  I kept my eyes open just wide enough to watch the ringmaster lean down and stare at my sister once more. She stroked Bria’s cheek, lightly digging her nails into my sister’s flesh.

  “All that lovely, lovely skin,” Esmeralda murmured, then clucked her tongue. “Youth truly is wasted on the young.”

  “But someone’s sure to come looking for her,” Arturo said. “Who knows how many people she told that she was coming here tonight? Not to mention all those knives that the other chick had on her. You don’t carry quality blades like that unless you know how to use them. You’re taking a big risk with them.”