by Erin Johnson
“Sam. I’m so sorry to leave you alone all this time. I lost track of time.”
He blinked at me. “It’sss nothing to apologize for. I wasss fine.” His arms hung limply at his sides.
I smiled back. “I hope it wasn’t too busy?” I moved around the long table, glancing at the spread. The trays of muffins, hand pies, and cupcakes seemed mostly full. We’d nearly sold of out cranberry scones though.
“Hardly any customersss.”
I held up the platter where a lonely scone sat surrounded by crumbs. “They must’ve all been scone crazy.”
Sam frowned and moved closer, peering at the plate. “How ssstrange. I don’t remember ssselling any sssconesss, now you mention it.”
“Really?”
We peeked around the table and under it, in case they’d fallen, but found nothing. We straightened and I shrugged. “Guess it’s a mystery.” I nudged Sam with my elbow. “Unless you got a little munchy? I wouldn’t blame you, Maple’s scones are the best.”
Sam flushed red. “I would never— Oh.” He smiled and his chin retracted into his neck. “You’re teasssing.”
I grinned and nodded.
He leaned closer, his arms dangling limp. “If I wasss to sssneak sssome, I’d go for the hand piesss, persssonally.”
I raised a brow. “Ah, a hand pie man.” I pulled my apron off the tent pole I’d hung it on, and looped it over my neck, reaching behind to tie it. “Well, I’m glad you weren’t overwhelmed today, but you should go home and rest. I can take it from here.”
“Actually, that’s why we’re here.” Annie walked up to the tent, flanked by Maple and Yann.
“Oh hi.” I smiled, pleasantly surprised to see them.
Annie gestured to herself and the tall bear of a man. “We think the three of you could stand a break.”
“What?” I looked from Maple, who stared blankly at the floor and had yet to acknowledge she’d even seen me, to Annie and Yann. “You’ve been in the bakery all day, on your feet. I didn’t even hardly work the tent—I was practicing magic. So, I’m fresh and ready.” I rubbed my palms together. “Bring it, pie eaters, I’ve got you covered.”
Annie cleared her throat and looked significantly at Maple, then back to me. “But you might want to help your friend, who’s also been working hard in the bakery, to let loose and relax a little. Working the tent, you probably haven’t gotten to see the carnival yet. Right?”
I frowned at Annie and Yann, then looked at my semicomatose friend. “Wiley?” I mouthed.
Annie gave a curt nod.
I rolled my eyes and lowered my voice. “What’d he do this time?”
Annie put her warm hands on my shoulders. “More of the same, just being himself.” She spun me around and untied the apron. “But the poor dear lets him get to her.” She spun me back to face her.
I ducked as she lifted the apron off my neck and placed it around her own. “She needs to relax and let loose. So, you two have some fun. Sam, go get some rest. Ah-ah.” She held up a finger as Sam opened his mouth to protest. “I know, you say you’re fine, but we’re all concerned. You fell and passed out yesterday, it’s time to rest. Off with you all, now. Shoo.” She scooted us off.
Sam leapt to his feet and muttered to himself as he untied his apron. “My goodnessss. Sssuch concccern over little old me, well I don’t know what to sssay.”
Annie smoothed her gray hair back into her headband as Yann took Sam’s apron and nodded his thanks. The two sat down on stools in front of the long wooden table as a family of four walked up and asked about the different types of muffins. I paused to peek into the oven.
“Everything all right, Iggy?”
My flame stared glassy eyed at me. “Fine. Yeah, great.” He lowered his voice. “Do not leave me alone with that shifter again.”
“Why?” I glanced from Sam, who ambled off, back to Iggy.
He rolled his eyes and sighed. “He’s so dull. I could barely get him to talk, and when he did it was about the best kinds of tree nooks for finding birds’ eggs. There are bird-made holes, holes left by fallen limbs, hollowed logs….”
I bit back a smile.
“And don’t even get me started on tree crotches!”
I laughed.
“The man makes crotches dull.”
I leaned closer. “You going to be okay if I take off for a bit longer with Maple?”
Iggy smirked. “Yes, mother, I’ll somehow survive without you.”
I shook my head and moved off.
“How’d your lessons go?”
I whirled, grinning back at the flame. “Awesome! I revealed the teapot behind the clock.”
“Right… the classic teapot behind the clock illusion.”
I titled my head to the side and put my hands on my hips. “We were working on revealing hidden things. And I did it!”
“Congratulations.” Iggy nodded towards Maple. “Now maybe you can work on raising the dead.”
“I’ll try,” I mouthed. I took my friend’s hand and led her out of the tent, onto the main walk of the pier. She followed as if in a trance. We passed a food stall, where a worker in a paper cap flipped pancake patties on a sizzling griddle and handed out cardboard trays to customers. The fatty fried smell made my stomach grumble. I glanced at Maple’s face, the flashing lights of a ride highlighting, then shadowing it.
“You hungry?”
She limply shrugged.
I nodded. “Right. Maybe not this food. Let’s keep looking. Oh hey, look, Francis.” I pointed to the tall, pale vampire. “Let’s say hi.” I dragged Maple across the now crowded main walk, dodging people as we went. Francis hovered beside a miniature dilapidated Victorian building. A fluttering banner over the black front door read, “Haunted House—Enter If You Scare.” Guess being magical didn’t prevent bad puns. Hey, they should make a spell for that.
“Francis!” I waved.
He gazed out over the heads of the crowd, looking this way and that. Already tall, he also levitated a couple of inches above the ground wherever he went, giving him a good view.
“Looking for someone?”
He startled and looked down at Maple and me. His thick black hair rose off the top of his head with abundant volume, and tumbled over his shoulders. He squinted at us with heavily lined eyes. “Imogen. Maple.” He inhaled deeply. “You smell… interesting.”
“Thanks.” I plastered on a smile and pretended that was a compliment. I gestured to him and the haunted house, and grinned. “I wouldn’t have guessed you for a carnival goer.”
“Me neither.” He went back to scanning the crowd. Who was he looking for?
I nodded toward the haunted house, trying to keep up some semblance of conversation between the distracted vampire, my comatose friend, and me. Tough crowd. “You come by to visit some ghost friends of yours? Oooohhh!” I wiggled my fingers and made a ghost noise.
Francis snapped his intense dark gaze back to me. “Because I’m undead?” He bared his fangs. “That’s extremely offensive.”
I shrank back, tingles prickling the back of my neck. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize—”
“Ha ha ha!” Francis threw his head back and laughed deeply, fangs to the sky. I looked around, uncomfortable, as a group of screaming girls dashed out of the haunted house and past us. “Joking. You living take things so seriously.”
My shoulders sagged. “Oh. Ha.” I tried for a smile.
“But actually, I am quite close with one of the ghosts who works here. A medieval scullery maid. Last night she let me hide in one of the coffins and scare some children.” Francis chuckled and a sweet smile crossed his face. “A child’s fear is the most innocent.”
A silence stretched on, broken by the screams from the nearby rides, the flute music from the fairy story corner and the eerie creaks and moans coming from the ramshackle haunted house. I cast about for something to say. I’d already thanked him so many times, and so profusely for saving my life a couple of weeks ago, that h
e’d threatened to bite me if I did it one more time. My eyes landed on the doughnut in his hand. I pointed at it.
“That looks yummy. Maple and I are looking for something to eat.” I glanced at my friend, who replied by swaying, dead on her feet. I turned back to Francis. “Where’d you get it?” I didn’t remember seeing a doughnut stall, but we hadn’t seen much of the carnival yet.
Francis blinked rapidly at the doughnut, then pulled it closer to his chest. He hid it partially behind one arm. “I… don’t think this would be to your liking.”
I leaned closer and frowned at the oozing red liquid pouring from the inside. “That’s not cherry filling, is it?”
Francis shook his head, and I lifted my hands in surrender. “Don’t want to know.” Was there a whole booth that sold nothing but blood-filled pastries? Seemed odd. The way everyone talked, Francis was the only vampire in existence. That’d be a niche business model.
“Right, well. We’re gonna—” I jerked a thumb toward the pier and pulled Maple back into the flowing crowd. “See ya, Francis.”
He nodded a solemn goodbye, watching us for a moment and then scanning the crowd again. I soon forgot about the strange vampire as the pull of the crowd forced me to focus on keeping a good grip on Maple’s hand. Since she seemed unable, or unwilling, to make decisions, I led us around the pier.
We walked down a side avenue and I bought us a couple of fish tacos from a tiny booth with a long line. I figured that had to be a good sign. I moved us away from the screaming crowds, flashing lights, and loud carnival music, and we sat on a wooden bench overlooking the water.
The white railing divided the pier from the sea, which now churned just below the wooden boardwalk. Earlier in the day, the sea had been hundreds of feet lower, but now the bright lights reflected off the dark, moving surface of the water. I wolfed down my tacos, sucking lime juice off my fingers, and glanced at Maple. She’d barely nibbled at one and stared blank-faced at the sea.
Sighing, I set down my cardboard tray and scooted closer to her. “Maple. Maple? Hey, what’s going on?”
She blinked and swallowed, then lowered her gaze. “I tried. Like you said, I tried to be myself and be helpful and—” She heaved a sigh and her shoulders slumped forward.
“And what?”
She balled her hands into fists. “And Wiley locked me in the herb storeroom. He claims it was an accident.”
“Psht.” I rolled my eyes. “Right.”
“Exactly. That’s not the worst part though.”
“It’s not?” I squeezed her shoulder.
She threw her hands up. “Yann and Annie didn’t even notice! I was in there for three hours. Three!”
“Annie and Yann care about you.” I scooted closer and put an arm around her shoulders. “Wiley’s a jelly brain, but I’m positive the others weren’t in on it.”
“I know they weren’t.” She shook her head. “That’s what’s so terrible. I’m so inconsequential, so unneeded, they didn’t even notice.” She tipped her head against my shoulder. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be the royal baker.”
We sat staring out at the dark sea, the rest of the mountain city rising up in winding streets to our right, the horizon stretching out in darkness forever to our left. Glowing white orbs, the lights of the merpeople, floated under the surface. It felt nice to be in this peaceful spot, away from the noisy crowds.
“I don’t think there’s only one way to be the royal baker. You’re going to figure this out, I know you will. And I’m here to help, so is Sam, and Annie and Yann, too.” I pulled her into a tighter hug and leaned my head against hers. “You want me to take Wiley out, you just say the word,” I teased.
“You could, too. With that breath.”
I pulled away to look at Maple in the face. “Excuse me?” My mouth hung open.
She scoffed and wrinkled her nose. “You smell like fish.”
I glared, then leaned close and breathed out toward her. She fanned the air and scooted away, right to the edge of the bench. “Gross.”
“Eat yours already, then we’ll smell fishy together.” I tried to breathe on her again and as she dodged me, she fell to the ground. Laughing, I sunk down next to her, and she giggled, batting me away. A loud shriek startled us into silence. We both turned, crouching down behind the bench. Peering through the gap between the seat and the back, I could make out some dark figures. Maple and I exchanged nervous glances.
“How dare you!” The deep, dramatic voice sounded familiar.
The figures moved closer, stopping below a red lantern. Madame Zerna stood huffing, hands on broad hips, with her thin assistant Frennie cringing behind her. A tall man wearing a top hat glowered down at her. He wore fingerless white gloves on his hands, and used one to pull a beautiful young woman behind him. Madame Zerna tried to step around him toward the woman, but the guy sidestepped in front of her, blocking her way with a long leg in a tall black boot with ivory buttons up the sides.
“She doesn’t wish to see you.” The man had a gravelly voice, his pale skin nearly blotted out by the tattoos swarming up from under his collar to his neck.
“That’s what you say, but let her speak for herself!” It could have been the lantern, but Madame Zerna’s face looked flushed red, and her hands were balled into fists at her sides.
The tall man, eyes ringed in liner for a sunken, sickly look, glared at her for a long moment. Then he stepped aside. “Very well. Riga.” He gestured at the young woman.
She stood stock-still in her black sequined unitard, her dark hair slicked back in a long ponytail.
Madame Zerna’s expression broke, her lips quivering as she sobbed out, “Riga.” She reached her hands out and stepped forward, but the young woman, Riga, retreated a step in her thigh-high boots. Madame Zerna froze. “Riga, please. I miss you. I love you.”
Riga folded her slim arms across her sparkling costume. “I don’t want to see you, ever again.” She turned her back and strode past the tall man. She threw open a flap in the tent I hadn’t noticed before and disappeared inside.
“Riga!” Madame Zerna yelled after her. The woman’s face morphed from crestfallen to furious as she jabbed a finger at the man. “Scullivan Night, you shall answer for what you’ve done.”
The man scoffed and drew himself up to his full height, towering over the stout woman despite her tall, teased hair. “We have a show to perform, Madame, if you please.” He turned and followed Riga into the tent.
Madame Zerna’s chest heaved for several long moments, and then she staggered, and Frennie darted under her arm to scoop her up. The assistant was stronger than she looked. She fished around in the quilted satchel I’d seen the night before and retrieved the same cobalt blue bottle. Madame Zerna took a long swig and then pushed the bottle back at Frennie. She smoothed her robes, cleared her throat, and then turned, shouldering Frennie aside. Frennie scampered after the seer back toward the main walk of the carnival and out of sight.
I turned to Maple and saw my own shock written on her face. “What was that all about?”
I shook my head. “No idea.”
We slowly stood and crept over to where the group had stood. Looking around, everyone seemed to have cleared out, but applause sounded from inside the black-and-white-striped tent. Maple and I stood under the red lantern and I noticed a small sign pinned to the tent fabric beside the flap.
It read, “The Dark Magician, Scullivan Night. Staff Entrance Only.” An illustration next to the words depicted the man I’d seen before, wearing the top hat, with dark ringed eyes, long hair, a handlebar mustache, and dimpled chin.
“Scullivan Night.” I tilted my head to the side. “I wonder how Madame Zerna knows him and that girl, Riga.”
Maple shrugged. “Maybe they’ve worked another carnival together.”
“Hmm, maybe.” But it’d seemed like more than that. Also… “Amelia made it sound like Madame Zerna’s never “stooped” to working carnivals before though.”
Maple grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the main walk on the pier. “Come on. Let’s go have some fun. Annie was right, I need to blow off some steam.”
With one last curious look back at the tent, I followed Maple onto the main thoroughfare. We sat next to a makeshift lagoon and got a “mermaid makeover”—a real mermaid, the first I’d gotten this close to, painted my cheeks with pearls, fish and clams, and lots of sparkly powder. She hummed a tune as she did, nearly putting me to sleep with her beautiful, calming voice.
With matching makeovers, Maple and I got lost in the snail maze, watched some fire dancers swirl and leap with flames wrapping around their limbs, and I even talked her into riding the canal ride, something she’d been too chicken to do since she was a kid.
“It’s terrifying,” she whined, as we stepped into what was basically a waist high bucket for humans. We held onto the thick rope that ran through a hole in the center of the floor, as the bucket lifted and swayed toward a cliff high above the carnival pier.
“Oh come, it can’t be that bad. Look, that five-year-old is riding.” I gestured to the landing our bucket stopped at. A young man with a prominent Adam’s apple helped us out of the bucket and we got in line.
Mick, the guy who’d forgotten to check the guy line and nearly crushed us with a tent pole, ushered about seven men, women, teenagers, and children into a pink-and-gold rowboat bobbing in the canal, bedecked in garlands of colorful flowers along the sides. Three more empty boats bumped and bobbed behind it. Once the boat was filled, sinking a couple inches deeper with the weight, Mick cried, “May your sails be full of wind!”
Those were apparently the magic words, literally, because the boat lurched forward and shot down the canal. It disappeared around the bend in a flash, the screams of the riders audible long after they’d disappeared from sight.
Maple raised her blond brows at me. “See?”
I chuckled. I loved rides, but my stomach tingled with nerves. When it came our turn to board, Mick recognized us and lit up. “Girls! I’m glad you’re taking me up on my offer, but next time, don’t bother waiting with these commoners.”
The next guy in line frowned.