by Lori Ryan
Gideon paced the small room of the hotel he and Gwen had just checked into. Instead of an adjoining room, he’d gotten one clear at the end of the hallway. The further she was from him, the less the temptation. Or so he hoped. All day, he’d wanted to reach out and hold her. To tell her they’d fix all of this together.
But that was just his dumbass male response to a needy woman. It had to be genetics or some stupid shit like that. She was the same Gwen he’d known, and yet just a little different underneath. As if she felt a little lost in this world. And damn if he didn’t want to fix that for her.
He shook off the feeling and focused on the magic thief. For now, he needed to get as much information from her as he could, then take his ass as far away from temptation as he could for the night.
“All right, let’s go through this again.” He thought about sitting down, but Gwen was on the bed, and the only chair in the room looked like it had a family of rats living in it. The place was a shithole. That seemed to be by design. He’d been told Assjacket kept the human population moving right on through town by making sure everything was as unappealing and inconvenient as possible. They were pretty good at it.
“Go through what again? The orgasm thing? Because I got most of what they were saying, but I wasn’t entirely sure I understood all of it. So, Minerva is with Tink for the orgasms?”
Gideon tripped over his own foot, but caught himself before going down. If she wasn’t one hundred percent genuine, it wouldn’t be so damned hard to resist showing her what it meant to have a man who could make you come until you saw stars.
Then he remembered that he had shown her that. Many, many times. She’d left him anyway, and apparently didn’t even remember any of it. Yeah, crisis averted. If that didn’t have a cold-shower effect on his dick, he didn’t know what would.
“No, Gwen. I’m not talking about Minerva’s orgasms or lack thereof. The magic. The siphoning. Remember? The whole reason you’re here?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” She didn’t sound overly enthusiastic about solving the mystery anymore, but what did he care? That was her problem, not his. He was solving this mystery and getting the hell out of Dodge.
“Tell me when you first realized this was happening.”
“I don’t really have any sense of time when I’m not in human form, but I don’t think it was too long. I just kept thinking Baba Yaga would get the magic back, but then she didn’t. So I came.”
Came. Goddess help him, he would get through this. “And when you chose Assjacket, you did that because…” He let the sentence trail off so she could fill in the blank.
She rolled her eyes at him as though it should be clear. “I followed it. The magic has a signal. I followed it here. That’s my plan, you see. You don’t think I’d come all this way without a plan in place, do you?”
Gideon remembered then one of the things that had drawn him to Gwen all those years ago. She’d wanted so badly to help, to be part of fixing what was wrong. He understood why. As the anchor, she really had no duties at all. She served as a tether. But that tether did more than simply bind magic so chaos couldn’t reign. It bound Gwen. Her existence was isolated, almost amorphous. She had little sense of time and place. She didn’t do much of anything. As she’d said a moment ago, she simply watched for trouble. It was always actually fixed by either the Council or Baba Yaga.
When Gwen had to change to join the fight last time, she’d jumped at the chance. She’d wanted so badly to be a part of something. To belong in the world instead of being on the outside of this plane.
Until she got bored and left him. He cleared his throat and refocused. The past needed to stay where it was. In the past. “Okay, great. That’s fantastic. You can track it, so we can follow it now. We just follow it and bottle it back up or whatever, and you’re good to go.” Operative word: go. As in get the hell out of his life again.
“Yes! That’s my plan. I track and you get it back.” Her face fell. “Except now that won’t work. It’s not here now.”
Now his stopped pacing. “What do you mean it’s not here? Where did it go?”
She fluttered her hands together. “Easy come, easy trees.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Easy come, easy trees?”
“Yes.” She nodded in a way that made him think of that show I Dream of Jeannie. A little head bob. “Easy come, easy trees. Or maybe leaves? Easy come, easy leaves?”
“Easy come, easy go?”
“Yes!” She pointed at him, stabbing the air with a triumphant finger. “Yes, that’s it!”
“Gwen, focus here. What do you mean? Does the magic come and go?”
“Yes.” She said this in a tone that said he was an idiot for not following what she was saying. Honestly, who could follow a thing she said? “Sometimes it’s here, sometimes it’s not. It’s just gone.”
“So, let me get this straight. You don’t know if the magic is here anymore, you don’t know how long someone’s been siphoning this magic, and you don’t know if you can follow it?”
“Yes.” She smiled at him.
“Great.”
“That’s not great, Gideon.”
“No. I realize that. It’s an expression.”
“What’s an expression?”
“Great is an expression. Well, not really. It’s sarcasm.”
“Okay.” She bobbed a nod again.
“Good.”
“Gideon?”
“Yeah?”
“What is sarcasm?”
He dropped his head back and prayed to the Goddess for patience. The fickle bitch ignored him. Right. Status quo on that count.
He stayed that way, counting his breaths and hoping for some semblance of patience until her heard it. Soft, high-pitched voices outside the door. He rolled his head up and looked at Gwen. She didn’t seem to have noticed a thing.
Gideon kept his eyes on her as he moved to the door. When she opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, he gave one shake of his head then yanked the hotel room door open.
In they fell. Three men who must have actually had their ears to the door the way they landed at his feet, one on top of the other. Two of them tall and thin with plain brown hair and eyes, one short and round with white hair and shockingly reddish eyes. The two thin ones stood right away and began to talk, babbling on about being there to help and doing whatever they could.
“But we just didn’t know if we should interrupt,” said one.
“Right,” said another. “Because we didn’t know if it would be more helpful to wait or more helpful to, well, to help.”
The third man—the round guy with white hair—remained on the floor. He simply sat up and leaned his back against the wall, glaring at the other two as his nose twitched.
Mice. Freaking mice. Gideon should have known from their voices alone. They talked a little too quickly, and they sounded like they’d been drinking and sucking on helium balloons at the same time.
“I didn’t want to interrupt or help,” said the one on the floor. “That was all on these two. I voted for minding our own damned business, but these idiots have this whole Cinderella thing going. It’s absolutely asinine, if you ask me.”
“You said you’d go along with whatever the majority vote was. And this is it,” said Tall Guy Two.
“Look, I’m not sure why you guys think we need help, and I sure as hell don’t know what all this has to do with Cinderella,” Gideon said, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose, “but we’re having a private conversation here.”
“We know, we know,” said Tall Guy One. Goddess, the nose twitching became more and more noticeable as the men shuffled their feet and—wait, was that a squeak? “It’s just that, um”—squeak—“well, the thing is we told”—squeak—“well, we sort of said—”
“Oh, for Goddess’ sake, spit it out,” the round guy said, getting up now. “We told Mac we’d come help you out. Correction. These idiots told Mac we’d come help you out. It’s all part of their
Cinderella Plan—”
“The Glass Slipper Initiative,” Tall Guy One said. “On the whole, Mouse Shifters have been relatively underappreciated in the world. We’re not really great in a battle, and don’t have a whole lot to set us apart from any of the other Shifters, other than the cheese-eating thing. So, we’re setting out to change that with the Glass Slipper Initiative, our own little effort to be more like the mice in Cinderella.”
Tall Guy Two nodded rapidly. “Yeah, helpful and cheerful. Just like in the movie.”
“Maybe you should come in and start from the beginning,” Gwen said, stepping forward and waving an arm to invite them into his room. Was she serious? This day just got better and better.
“Oh, thank you,” said Tall Guy Two, bowing repeatedly as he entered the room, as though meeting Cinderella herself. Gideon felt like he’d walked into some bizarre fantasyland where fairy tales were lived out in twisted reality show versions you couldn’t get away from.
“I’m Gwen.” She offered her hand to each of the mice. At least she’d given up on the big speech announcing her corporeal form to everyone she encountered.
“I’m Mickey,” Tall Guy Two said, then gestured to the other brown-haired one, “and this is Mike, but we call him Mighty. That’s Moose.” The round guy nodded.
Gideon was speechless. He didn’t know which was worse. Mouse Shifters named Mickey, Mighty, or Moose, or the way Mighty was currently flexing arms that appeared to be as thin as toothpicks without a muscle—mighty or otherwise—in sight.
Gideon looked at Gwen. She beamed. Positively beamed at her latest fans.
Great. And he meant that sarcastically.
Chapter Five
Gideon put his hand on Gwen’s back as they neared the carnival encampment, then removed it. What the hell was he thinking? It was a knee-jerk reaction, that was all. He knew the witches and warlocks in the traveling circus could be a closed-off group. They might not welcome an unannounced visit from strangers. His urge to protect Gwen was nothing more than a mere byproduct of having been raised right.
He’d sent the mice off on a wild goose chase to get them out of his hair for the day, but it hadn’t been easy to convince them to leave Gwen. The trio had shown up at Gwen’s door that morning with platters of fruit and cheese—a lot of cheese. Mickey and Mighty had said it was all part of the Glass Slipper Service, while Moose grumbled about sharing his cheese.
As he and Gwen teleported to a field near the carnival’s encampment, Gideon was glad he’d been able to ditch the mice. The last thing he needed was three mice tagging along as he tried to get the Komolvo to open up to him. Komolvo witches and mice did not get along. Komolvo witches could almost always trace their lineage back to a few familial lines originating in a small village on a mountainside in Europe. A village that at one time produced great cheeses.
After the mouse invasion of 1713, the Komolvo took to traveling, and many now worked in carnivals the world over.
They’d only gotten within twenty yards of the small carnival community when two men and a woman separated from the group and came toward them. Nowadays, instead of tents, or even RVs, they traveled in tiny homes set on trailers. Not what you think of when you think of trailer homes, these were tiny little houses, with chimneys and real roofs. The only difference between them and a real home were the wheels. Well, that and size.
Each was typically no more than three hundred or so square feet. At least, that was how they appeared from the outside. Gideon wouldn’t be surprised if they were much larger on the inside. It was what he would do. A basic glamour spell to make a larger home look smaller. There could be complications, of course, but nothing that couldn’t be handled by the people they were about to see. These witches and warlocks were crafty and sharp. If they lacked anything in the power department, they often made up for it in intelligence.
“What did we do to earn a visit from the Boguman himself?” one of the men said, by way of greeting. “We’ve kids here with us, but none I know who’ve earned a visit of this magnitude.”
Gideon laughed. They seemed open to him. Better to try to befriend them and see what he could find out. “Well, now little Aurel is pushing the limits a bit lately, but he isn’t the reason for my visit. Yet.”
The woman smiled, and her beautiful Komolvo features took on a light that shone from within. “That Aurel is a tough one. You might have a hard time getting through to him.” This particular carnival was made up of primarily Komolvo witches and warlocks, who likely hadn’t known anything other than the nomadic way of life. Outsiders were sometimes welcomed into the group over the years, and eventually accepted as family, but for the most part, the Komolvo line and features were evident in the faces of nearly every one of them.
The third man had yet to speak, and was attempting to look the part of the tough leader who wouldn’t deign to speak to outsiders, but Gideon wasn’t fooled. The woman was truly the one in charge. This was a matriarchal clan, and no one would accept or reject him without her say-so.
Gideon spoke to her now. “I’m not here on business. In fact, call me Gideon,” he said, then turned to Gwen. “This is Gwen.”
“Is she now?” the woman said, watching Gwen with eyes that saw too much. “Seems I’ve known her all my life.”
No one said anything for an uncomfortable moment. But the woman was the one to break the silence. “A witch with no magic.” She tilted her head. “No, that isn’t quite right, is it? You have all of the magic in the world, yet none of your own.”
Gideon cleared his throat and moved closer to Gwen. It hadn’t occurred to him how defenseless Gwen could be at times. She wasn’t able to use the magic she held. She couldn’t fight back if anyone attacked her.
“I’m Luca,” said the first man, “and this is Harmen and Floarea.” They all shook hands, and when Harmen continued to remain silent, Gideon wondered if he’d been incorrect in his first impression. Perhaps the man wasn’t trying to act tough. Maybe he couldn’t speak. It would be odd for a warlock given the health of most of their race, but perhaps a curse had left him mute.
There was no explicit invitation, but the three turned and walked toward the encampment, and didn’t object when Gideon and Gwen followed. He supposed that was all the invitation they’d get.
“How long will you all be staying in town?” Gideon asked after they’d met several others. A few children ran and hid when they spotted Gideon. It always puzzled him a bit that children could see who he was even when he was in warlock form. He was quite handsome in that form. There really wasn’t any need to run, but they always seemed to sense the Boguman and look for a place to hide. Except Aurel, he noticed. The boy really would need a visit soon. He simply jutted his chest out at the sight of Gideon and kept right on pulling the pigtails of one of the little girls.
Luca shrugged. “A few weeks. Assjacket affords us a little rest from having to hide who we are around the humans who attend the carnival. It’s a much-needed break every year. I’m sure you understand.”
“I do,” said Gideon, suddenly aware that he had felt some relief at not having to be the Boguman twenty-four-seven the past day. Despite the tension that continued to dominate every interaction with Gwen, he felt more at ease here than he had in a good long time.
“Will you join us this evening for our meal?” Floarea asked.
“We’d love to,” Gwen said, beaming as she looked around at the Komolvo. To her everything was an exciting new adventure, and she hadn’t bothered to see if Gideon wanted to stay or not.
Oddly, he did. Even though he wondered if the siphoned magic had something to do with the carnival, the thought of sharing a meal with others—something he rarely did—appealed to him.
So he made an effort to relax as they enjoyed an evening you couldn’t really experience anywhere else. Makeshift tables were gathered around an open barbecue pit in the field where the encampment had been set up. Chicken, steak, and fish crowded the grill over the open flames, surrounded wherev
er there was even the smallest bit of space by ears of corn still in the husks. Baked potatoes wrapped in foil sat on rocks on top of hot coals beneath the grill.
Even though the carnival wasn’t set up, there was still the feeling of a carnival all around. Tiny lights glittered above and a group of men played on gorgeous handcrafted instruments Gideon suspected were only brought out during private moments. They likely played another set of instruments when the carnival was open to the public.
As they sat with Harmen, Floarea, and Luca and watched dinner being prepared, Gideon scanned the group. As the Boguman, his ability to see into the hearts and minds of those causing trouble only extended to children, but he still tried to assess everyone he came in contact with, and especially those who seemed to hang back.
It turned out the couple Wanda had told them about, Minerva and Tink, were part of the carnival. He had to give Wanda credit. She was right about the pair. They were an odd couple if he ever saw one.
Tink was an enormous warlock, though his power was quite limited and he was a bit plain for a warlock. They learned he was called Tink because he tinkered with everything he could get his hands on. In fact, Shifters brought things to him to repair during this vacation each year. Tink seemed to want to hang back from everyone and didn’t join in the revelry much.
Minerva, on the other hand, tugged at him to come to the front of the group as the night went on. She was a stunning witch, but she had only moderate powers, and Gideon could see the hunger Wanda had talked about in her eyes. She coveted Floarea’s quiet strength and the power of those in charge. There was an aura of greed and perpetual discontent about her.
Tink finally succeeded in pulling Minerva back to the outskirts of the encampment to an old van.
“They seem like an unlikely pair,” Gideon said to Luca. Maybe if he got Luca talking about those in their group who didn’t have the power to siphon the magic from Gwen, he’d get the warlock to slip up about someone who did.