“Oh, I dunno, maybe less than an hour. Why? Have you been smelling it that long?”
“No. But it’s come to me before, recently.” When I think about it, that’s what had me turning my head to see the man in the bowler hat in the first place. “So, it most definitely could be...” I mutter aloud, not meaning to.
“What most definitely could be?” Uncle asks.
“I spotted a strange man, dressed in all black, walking through the midway earlier and sent a committee member to track him, to find out what he was doing here. He was oddly tall, and gaunt, and—”
“Magic-deprived, maybe?”
My eyes bulge. “You don’t think—”
“The ex-Supreme Leader?”
I shudder. “What would he be doing here?”
“Tracking you, perhaps.”
A cold shiver tickles my spine.
“Where is he now, this strange man all dressed all in black?” My uncle looks all around.
“Gone. As strangely as he appeared, he disappeared. He got away before I could reach him.”
“Well, in that case, we’d better keep our eyes open.” My uncle scours the grounds over my head. “We don’t want anything bubbling over into a magical disaster, now do we?”
“No. Thanks for reminding me.” I roll my eyes.
Actually, I hadn’t even put that all together until he just said it. I was too busy thinking about the fair.
“Of course, it needn’t come to that, my pet.” Uncle Harold lovingly pats my shoulder. “Who knows, we could both be wrong.” He shrugs, appeasing me. “It could have just been a figment of your imagination.”
“And there could be air conditioning in hell,” I suggest.
He laughs. But I don’t. I can’t. My nerves are frayed. I need to figure out where the man in black went, pronto.
“Viv indicated you might be going to battle.”
“Did she, now?” I squint. Boy, she didn’t miss a thing when gossiping.
“Well,” Uncle twists his hands, prattling on, “she outlined it could be a possibility, in lieu of all that was happening.” He grins. “I don’t really think she meant to be divulging it to me, your whole personal situation. She was only thinking of your safety.”
“Of course,” I say.
“And, in hindsight, I think she was right. I think it is a good thing I’m here. You know, just in case you need back up. Battles can be a tricky thing.”
“So, she did summon you?” I scowl.
“Oh, I’m so very bad at lying, aren’t I?” He pulls me in for another badly needed hug.
“It’s all right. I’m glad you’re here.” I tip onto my toes and kiss the side of his ashen cheek.
“Well, it is always best to stock the ranks when it comes to battles.”
“I can only imagine.” I gulp, my gaze traversing the fairgrounds over his back. “Anyway, enough talk about that, let’s discuss something else.” I pull back from him, rubbing my arms.
“What’s that?” he asks, seeing the hairs standing straight on my arms.
“Oh, I’m just inundated with too much informational vibe activity again.” I shake my head. “Do you ever get that?” I ask. “It about drives me crazy, this being hyper-attuned to the universe the way we are.”
“Of course, I do. I am supernatural, my dear. It’s an affliction we all have to suffer. Though, I expect, you suffer from it much worse than the rest of us, considering who you are.” He pauses to pass me a sorrowful smile and an encouraging nod.
“Tell me, how do you keep it from ruling your whole life, Uncle?”
“You don’t.” He pats my shoulder. “But, in time, you’ll get used to knowing what vibes to pay attention to and which to ignore.”
“So, until then I’m just to be a bundle of anxious energy, twitching and glitching at the onset of every vibe in the universe? Is that it?”
“Something like that.”
“Wonderful.” I sigh. “I swear, since my powers have come in, I can sense a fearful rabbit scurrying past at fifty paces.” He laughs.
“It’s not funny, Uncle. It’s like being on high alert all the time. Constantly emotionally over-charged. Like I have a huge super-charged gnat buzzing in my ears at all times.”
“Not to worry, this too shall pass.”
“How and when?”
“Soon, my pet, soon.” He hugs me. “Think of it like being in a large crowd of people and having to tune out the annoying prattler in favor of true conversationalist. You know, like you’ve learned to do in the mortal world, when dealing with Mrs. Dumfries.”
I choke on a laugh. “I don’t do that, do I?”
“Oh, please...” he waves a hand, “who doesn’t, when faced with that incessant tongue wagger? The woman is the very definition of annoying.”
I snort and laugh again.
“Speaking of, where is the old bat anyway?” He looks out over the midway, over my head.
“Oh, lurking around somewhere here, I’m sure.” I look with him. “In fact, it’s amazing I haven’t seen her already.” I check my watch. “It’s almost time for her big event, you know?” I look around. “She’s probably off somewhere preparing for the duel.”
“Duel?” Uncle Harold looks suddenly concerned.
“Yes. Pie duel, that is?” He scowls at me. “Apparently, she and another woman, known as Smelly Shelley, if you can imagine, have a score to settle. They’ve had a long-standing rivalry over who can eat the most pies, the fastest.”
“What?” Uncle Harold says.
“It’s a sport here in Hicksville,” I explain. “Apparently, they’ve been battling it out over pies at this fair since they were teenagers in high school.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Nope. Rumor has it, Mrs. Dumfries has come close to beating her once or twice, over the years, but just couldn’t take the prize away from Smelly Shelley Sullivan, as she affectionately calls her.”
“Wow, no love lost there.”
“That’s what I said.” I swat at him. “But Mrs. Dumfries is convinced this is her year.” I nod, winking.
“What’s the prize?”
“A blue ribbon.”
“That’s it? A ribbon?”
“Yeah. For twenty-seven pies consumed in just sixty-minutes.”
“Stop it!”
“No, seriously, you can’t make this stuff up. That’s the official record set by Smelly Shelley in 1995. Mrs. Dumfries will have to down twenty-eight pies in order to beat her rival’s record and win.”
“How big are the pies?”
“Nine inch.”
“Wow, even I’d show up for that one.” Uncle Harold rocks back on his heels.
“You know what, I would too.” I look wistfully away. “Mrs. Dumfries was right—the contests really do add to the fair. And to think I almost nixed the event. Along with the pig-squealing contest and—” I waggle my head.
“What?”
“Pig-squealing contest. Apparently, people bring pigs they’ve trained to squeal on cue, and the loudest one wins.”
“You’re joking.”
“No. I hear tell they do terribly cruel things to them too, to make them squeal. Like pinching them and sticking them with pins.”
“My goodness, girl. Don’t let PETA hear you.” He covers my mouth with a hand. “And here I’d heard you were asked to modernize the fair, pulling it away from its antiquated traditions.”
“I was.” I sigh. “Until Mrs. Dumfries got to me.” I cross my arms.
“How is that?”
“Let’s just say she has quite the power of persuasion.” And those of blackmail too.
A low-grade rumbling pulls at my heart, and I turn around to hear the fair’s midway music has started. “Oh, I’m afraid that’s my cue!” I check my watch. “Five minutes to showtime. I’m sorry, Uncle, but I’ve got to run.”
“Understandably.” He nods. “Oh, and don’t worry, dear,” he pats my hand. “I’m sure things will run very
smoothly this evening. After all, this fair has gone off without a hitch for over a hundred years now. What’s one more?” He shrugs, smiling playfully. “Especially, under the supervision of the most powerful witch that ever lived!” He leans, giving me another brisk hug. “You’ll be fine, darling. Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me.”
Glad he’s confident. “Thank you, Uncle Harold.” I reach back and return the squeeze. “You’ve put me mostly at ease.”
He laughs. “Well, if you need me, dear, I’ll be over at the cotton candy truck, indulging myself.” He chuckles. “Truth be known, fresh-spun cotton candy is my one fatal weakness.” He points up a finger and sidesteps away.
Fatal? What a dastardly choice of words to use. I sigh, then wave him off as he flutters off through the midway in bat form.
“Oh, and of course,” he calls back, “I will be keeping my eye out for your man in black.” He salutes me.
“You do that!” I holler after him, laughing.
I still can’t believe he didn’t smell anything. I wrinkle up my nose and sniff the air around where he stood. Nothing. Well, it clearly isn’t Uncle Harold. I smile. Now to figure out who our caped crusader is.
Chapter 13
An hour later, the midway is a steady thrum of activity. My heart beats in time with the carney music. I look out at the crowd, watching everyone having so much fun—kids racing past with treats in hand, rides roaring, the fashion show in full swing. The air is ripe with the smell of sticky cotton candy—everything is just as it should be.
Could this have turned out any grander? I punch my hips and smile, looking fawningly out over the scene. Even the adults’ eyes are filled with the wonder.
That’s all it is, right? Wonder.
I squint, checking them more closely.
Yep. All clear. You can stop worrying now, Violet.
Everything’s going to be just fine, just as uncle Harold predicted. I draw in a breath and let it out slowly, catching sight of Mrs. Dumfries tottering past.
I can’t resist. I have to speak to her. “Hello, Mrs. Dumfries,” I say, leaning out toward her as she passes. I toss her a small jovial wave. “Enjoying yourself?” I ask.
Something deep and primal within me wants to hear her compliment me.
I set back on my heels and wait for it.
She turns, not looking at all like herself. A strange bolt of chilled electricity runs through me.
“Oh, yes, of course, Violet.” She bats her eyes. “What’s not to enjoy?” she answers sweetly, tilting her head left and right. Her voice is light and jolly, the tone almost fairy-like—and horribly too high. “Who couldn’t have fun at a place like this?” she adds with a smile, her eyes twinkling, her eyelashes fluttering wildly overtop of them.
Oh-kay, I’ve never seen Mrs. Dumfries’s eyes twinkle before.
And I’ve never seen her look so happy.
All right, so, maybe there was that one time, when she was on that stupid date with Jeremy, but even that pales in comparison to now.
What on earth is up with her? I squint, staring.
“I, in particular, love the fashion show up there near the font gates.” She flits a hand over her back, pointing to it. “Was that your idea? Splendid, really.” She swats my way. “The whole Star Wars theme is so original.” She giggles.
Mrs. Dumfries giggling? What fresh hex is this?
“Who would have thought Chewbacca would look so smart in seersucker.” She laughs until her belly bounces. Her voice lilts gaily upward into almost a trill as she talks with her hands.
Mrs. Dumfries never talks with her hands. They’re always clutching some kind of purse strap.
I narrow my eyes.
Something is wrong here. Though I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“My goodness,” I say. “You sound almost overjoyed by it all.”
“I almost am.” She smiles. “Who wouldn’t be, in attendance at this spectacular event?”
Okay, now I know something is very wrong. That’s like the third compliment in a row.
I mean, I was fishing for one, but three. That’s over the top.
And there go her eyelashes, fluttering. It’s as if they are responding on cue.
Or in a loop.
I scowl at her closer.
“I particularly loved strolling through the vendor tents at the front. Hex Falls has so much to offer, who knew?” She shrugs.
Oh-kay... You. You know everything... I glare harder. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right, Mrs. Dumfries?” I ask. If only I could get closer to her, I could maybe telepathically take her temperature. See if whatever it is, is catching. Either she’s sick or she’s had too much sugar—or someone’s spelled her again.
“What do you think, Mr. Dumfries?” I ask, sliding closer.
“It’s Hex Falls’ annual fall fair, all right,” he grumbles, standing next to her.
Nothing wrong with Mr. Dumfries.
“Come on, Edna,” Mr. Dumfries says, tugging at her arm. “We don’t wanna be late for the thrill show, do we? Don’t want to miss that knife-thrower.” He darts up his eyebrows.
“Oh, right. I’d almost forgotten. I’m heading that way too.” I open the palm of my hand toward the front flap of the nearby tent. “I have some big official announcing to do.”
“Oh, well, you have fun with that, dear.” She smiles at me, dreamily. “Toodle-oo, now!” She tosses me a light finger wave.
“Hmm,” I harrumph watching them fall into line, then pick up the microphone and flick it on. “Right this way, to H B. Rosen’s Magic Midway, featuring the Daring Damsels and Daggers Thrill Show!” I announce.
That ought to do it.
I put the microphone down, just as the Dumfries scurry past in line, ducking under the front flap and into the tent, but not before robotically, she stuffs their tickets into my hand.
In the exchange, I can’t help but notice how cold her hand is.
They rustle through the flap and into the tent before I have the chance to comment, taking seats to the left, near the front of the tent.
“Excuse me.” I stop the line and look in after them, just as Mrs. Dumfries sits down, clutching the handle of her shell-coated purse in her white gloved hands. She briefly glances back at me, her eyes wide, their centers swirling like black pots of coffee. My heart jumps into my throat. Oh no... Quickly, I extract my head from the flap and sniff the air around where she stood, but detect—nothing.
But she was acting so weird.
“Violet?” a voice calls, and I yank my head out of the tent.
“Yes,” I answer, fixing my hair.
It’s Hartley. “I just wanted to let you know I found your man in the bowler hat. He claims to be part of the show. A performer in fact.”
“Oh, from what act?” I scowl.
“You know,” Hartley scratches his head, “I didn’t think to ask.” He blushes. “But he had make-up on and all. He looked legit. A real Marcel Marceau lookalike, you know?”
“I see...” I sigh. “All right then, if you’re satisfied.” I should be too, right? I gulp. “Thank you,” I say.
“You’re welcome.” A buzzer goes off in his pants. “Oh, drats. Gotta go.” He pulls a staticky walkie-talkie from them and lunges off.
So, legit, huh?
Why do I still not believe that? I sniff the air and smell something really foul this time.
“Oh, there you are, darling.” Aunt Kat’s soft, plump hand drops on my shoulder.
“We’ve been looking all over for you,” Aunt Kit trills. The two of them look positively tickled. One holds a colorful pinwheel, while the other nurses a fat candy apple. “We are having so much fun.” She smiles.
“Yes, we just came by to tell you how wonderful everything is!” Aunt Kat dances on her feet.
“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
“It is, without a doubt, the grandest fair we’ve ever been to. Isn’t that right, sister?” Aunt Kit nudges Kat.
&n
bsp; “Oh, yes, yes, indeed.” Aunt Kat’s eyes sparkle as she nods. “I must say,” Aunt Kat prattles on, “adding those performers at the front gates was a stroke of genius on your part.” She brings her hands together in a slight clap.
“Performers? What performers?”
“You know, the funny little woman on stilts, dressed up as the Queen of Hearts, with the giant scissors, cutting all the heads off the roses in the botanical display.”
“Queen of Hearts?” My heart races. “I’ve hired no such performer.”
I lean around them and stare at the front.
“Well, you must have because she’s right there.” My aunt gestures back over her shoulder, and we all look. “Well, that’s funny. She was right there.”
“Yes.” Aunt Kit strains her eyes. “We were just standing there, watching her with Uncle Harold.”
“Uncle Harold?” I blink at them both.
“It was very funny. I assure you. The crowd was eating it up.” Aunt Kat holds her belly and laughs.
I glare toward the gates, then back at them. “And you’re sure this was happening just moments ago?”
“Yes. Right after the tall man in the bowler hat introduced them.”
“What?”
“It was the strangest thing, really. He was there, then he was gone, then she was there.” Aunt Kat tips up her palms, one after the other.
I study their faces. “And you didn’t find that odd?”
They look at one another, then at me. “Oh,” they say in unison. Aunt Kat’s pinkie finger twitches. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, no, is right.” I turn, about to charge in that direction, then smell something even stranger.
It’s like the foul odor I smelled before. Only spicier and stronger.
“Do you smell something?” I ask, grabbing for my aunts. “Something strange. Gone awry?”
They sniff the air, then answer together, “No.”
I drag them back toward the tent. “What about here?” I ask, stuffing their heads through the flap.
Aunts Kit and Kat wrinkle up their noses sniffing madly. “I’m sorry, dear, but I’m picking up nothing,” Aunt Kat says.
“You don’t smell that?” I’m desperate for them to.
“No.” They shake their heads.
Abracastabra (Hex Falls Paranormal Cozy Mystery # 4) (Hex Falls Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series) Page 8