by Leanne Leeds
“We have spies at your circus?”
“You do. Two that I know of.”
“Why would we send spies? Heck, why would anyone send spies to a circus?”
“Witches are nosy,” Gunther laughed. “It drives the Witches’ Council crazy that they can’t just wave their wands and take a peek at what either of us is doing. They can look into the human world, any paranormal town. But they can’t just peek in on us, or on you.”
“Witches don’t have wands. That’s just human fairy tales.”
Gunther reached into his back pocket and pulled out a white wood drumstick, or so I thought. He held it up in front of him, squinted his eyes, and the stick glowed. The excited throng gathered around Uncle Phil grew silent as they all stopped to stare warily at Gunther.
“I stand corrected,” I told him as I stared at the thin stick thrumming with power. “Now put that away before you freak everybody out even more.”
“Where did you go to school? I can’t believe you were never taught wand work. That’s pretty basic stuff,” he asked as he slipped the wand back into his pocket.
“Mickwac, Texas.”
Gunther frowned. “I don’t recall any Witches’ Academies there.”
“I went to human school.” His eyes grew wide, and one eyebrow raised. “What? Haven’t you ever met a witch that went to human school before?”
“Honestly? No.” Gunther shrugged.
“Our Charlotte was raised by my brother,” Uncle Phil boomed after he extracted himself from his admirers and reached out his newly formed hand to shake Gunther’s. “My brother never met a witch lesson he didn’t want to keep her from. Hello, young Gunther. Your father got you here in record time, I see.”
“Mr. Astley,” Gunther nodded respectfully. “It’s delightful to see you again. Especially since I didn’t expect to ever see you again.”
“Are you staying for dinner? I found out I can eat!” Uncle Phil told him excitedly. Jeannie giggled and squeezed him. “But I don’t have to eat, which is a nice talent I plan to never, ever take advantage of. Makes me feel better about losing all of my other talents.”
“Well, not all your talents,” Jeannie interjected and blushed. Then she giggled like a schoolgirl.
Oh, gross.
“Uncle Phil, if I don’t get Mom and Dad here, I think my Mom might slap me silly. It’s been over an hour.”
“Of course! Let’s go into my yurt where we can bring them in a bit more privately.”
His yurt. When I woke up this morning it was my yurt. Now it’s his yurt. What’s a ringmaster without a yurt of her own?
A homeless ringmaster? Samson asked.
Charlotte, my apologies, Uncle Phil thought toward me as his eyebrows lowered.
We can still talk telepathically?
Of course, I am still a ghost. No matter what Jeannie attached to my spirit to make it look like it is encased in a body, I am still a ghost. After your parents leave, you and I can talk about how we move forward like this. Or how to undo it, if you prefer.
I frowned but nodded.
“So, young Gunther, will you join us?” Uncle Phil asked again.
“Well, Dad does expect a full reconnaissance mission, with all the sneaking around and turning over stones that would normally entail. I imagine that would take a while, so sure,” he smiled.
Wow, he was handsome. His teeth were so perfectly white and straight they practically glowed against his tan face.
“Thank you for the invitation,” Gunther said as he gazed at me. I smiled.
“Of course,” Uncle Phil waived his thanks off and turned toward the private yurt. “After all, you and Charlotte are the future of the paranormal circuses. You should get to know one another, I should think.”
“I’d like that very much. She’s fascinating,” Gunther answered as his soft, sea-green eyes fell on me. I blushed. “I mean, it’s not often you meet a witch that doesn’t know the first thing about being one.”
Well, that warm, fuzzy feeling didn’t last long.
13
Uncle Phil, Jeannie, Fiona, Fortuna, Gunther, and I piled into Uncle Phil’s yurt condo and sat around a dining table I could swear was way smaller this morning. My uncle had motioned for me to take the head seat at the table, and I did. Gunther quickly moved to take the position next to me.
“Make the wish, dear girl,” Uncle Phil told me. I nodded and wished for my parents to join us here at the Magical Midway. As soon as the words left my lips, Jeannie shouted that my wish was granted and my parents instantly appeared standing next to the table as if they had just blinked into existence.
Djinn magic was useful, but witch magic was way prettier.
“Oh my gosh!” my father shouted as he grasped the back of the chair in front of him to steady himself as he stared at my smiling uncle. “You’re not dead! How are you not dead?”
“I am dead. I am quite dead, in fact.”
While my father stared at his brother in shock, I frantically explained how Uncle Phil’s lifelike appearance had come to pass.
“I can’t sense you or speak to you,” my father said in confusion.
“Well, no, you can’t. I’m dead. Your talent only works on things that live. I thought we went over this already? Alan, you are just as stubborn as you always were, and you still don’t listen.”
My father stood up straight and took a deep breath. For a moment, I thought that another Astley throw-down was imminent. It was only a moment, though. Seconds passed, and my father’s expression softened.
As the two brothers stood in front of one another, my father reached out slowly and hugged my uncle tightly. It was a beautiful, touching moment, and I was grateful I had been a part of making it happen.
Until my mother wiped her eyes and turned to look at me with that stormy expression that heralded another Astley throw-down imminently threatening.
“Charlotte Esmeralda Astley! I could throttle you!”
“Your middle name is Esmeralda? That’s kinda witchy,” Fiona whispered to the left of me. I kicked her under the table and braced for my mother’s lecture.
“Your father and I were terrified that something had happened to you! How could you call and tell us that someone was trying to kill you and then not call when mealtime came? I stood in my kitchen for two hours holding scrambled eggs and waiting for you!” she hollered as she shook her finger in my face. “That was very irresponsible of you! Your father and I were worried sick, and we had no way to contact you!”
“I’m sorry, Mom, I really am,” I told her as I did my best to look remorseful and as guilty as I knew she wanted me to feel. “You are absolutely right, I didn’t stop and think what you and Dad would go through not hearing from me. Entirely my fault, and I won’t do it again.”
“I should say not,” my mother harrumphed, crossing her arms. “Well, at least your uncle is back, and you can come home now.”
“Martha, I am not the ringmaster again,” Uncle Phil told her as her face fell. “While I can help Charlotte out a little more than before since everyone can see and hear me, the power’s anchored in her. She cannot leave for any length of time. She is still the ringmaster.”
“Mom, I promise I’ll try not to worry you. I have a lot of people here working to protect me.” Granted, they seem to have no idea how to investigate, and they overlooked things happening right under their noses, but they meant well. Mostly.
“You wouldn’t have to depend on others if you learned to magic,” Gunther pointed out. All heads around the table snapped to stare at Roland Makepeace’s son, and he shifted uneasily in his chair.
“What do you mean?” I asked him.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt or interject myself into a family discussion. I do, however, have some experience in being trained to be an heir. It seems incredibly irresponsible for you to hold the position you do with absolutely no understanding of magic or an ability to use it.”
Well, thanks for your input, Mr. Know-it-
all. So glad that you’re here to mansplain this all to me.
“I have an understanding of magic,” I argued. “I’ve blinked like four times and made big things happen. I mean, clearly, I have a lot to learn, but as soon as I became the ringmaster, I got this super magic ability and I’ve used it. So, you know… I’m fine. Really.”
“That’s not magic, Charlotte,” Gunther told me. “Well, it is, but it’s not yours. The power belongs to whatever animates the Midway. If it doesn’t want you to do what you’re asking it to do, it simply won’t do it. You should have your own ability that you can count on, that you know will always work precisely the way you expect. And right now you really don’t.”
“Is this true?” I asked Uncle Phil.
“It is… it’s not quite that simple, but on the whole what Gunther said is correct,” Uncle Phil agreed. “For example, if you wanted to kill Samson, you would not be allowed to do so.”
Why would she want to kill me? I’m charming, Samson said.
“So, wait a minute… All these rules that you’re telling me to apply to what I can and can’t do. Those aren’t magic rules? Those are just things that the Magical Midway’s spirit thing will and won’t let me do?”
“Some are rules. Some are rules that can be changed. Some are limitations that are immutable,” my uncle said.
“How do I know which is which, then?”
Silence.
“I swear, this is going to give me a headache. On a daily basis,” I told the assembled group. “Uncle Phil, were you trained as a witch? Like, a regular witch.”
“Years and years and years ago, Charlotte.”
“Mom? Dad?”
“Charlotte, we remember some things from when we were children, but your father and I haven’t used those skills much over the years because…” Mom’s eyes flashed over toward my father, and she left the truth of what we both knew unsaid.
“Charlotte…” Dad said, but I jumped in to head him off. I could see my father’s discomfort growing as we all spoke, and I didn’t want to go down a rabbit-hole of regret. It just didn’t matter anymore.
“Look, Dad, I get that you have some regrets and none of this is precisely the way you thought it would turn out. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I am trying to understand who I am now, and what I need to know. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. If you want to help me, help me figure out what my next step is.”
The room fell silent. After a time, Gunther leaned over.
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
“You have another judgment you wish to pass on me?” I snapped as I sat up straighter in my chair. Gunther’s face remained impassive as our eyes clashed, but he leaned forward and spoke as softly and gently as he could.
“I’m sorry if what I said hurt you, and no, I don’t. But I would really like to talk to you. Alone,” he said as he passed his eyes over the assembled crowd listening intently to every word we said. “Can we take a walk?” Everyone appeared somewhat offended at Gunther’s request.
I sense no malice or harmful intentions in him, Samson said. Unfortunately, not the same can be said of his father. But young Gunther is probably not a chip off the old block. He does not mean to offend you.
“Fine. You mind if Samson comes?” I asked him as I pushed out my chair.
“It wouldn’t matter if I did,” he laughed and pointed to the bulge in his chest. “Even when we think they left us alone, they don’t leave us alone.”
Gunther’s friendly laugh deflated the sting of his words a little bit.
“We’ll be back,” I told everyone.
“Charlotte—”
“Dad, relax. Spend some time with Uncle Phil. I’ll be fine.”
Gunther and I walked silently toward the western clearing far away from the hustle and bustle of the carnival. While Uncle Phil and Roland Makepeace looked like they stepped out of a time long past, Gunther and I could have been any two modern humans visiting a park for the day. While walking their two cats.
Okay, maybe we looked a little odd.
“I know that you don’t know me,” Gunther began once there was a significant distance between us and everyone else. “Not only that, I’m the son of your current rival.”
“Yeah, but are we rivals, really? Were both the same, sort of. Or will be. What do we even really have to do with one another? I feel like everybody turns this into high drama unnecessarily.”
“I can guarantee you my father does not see it that way. When there were thirty or forty midways, individual families engaged in friendly rivalries. With just the two of us left, things have changed. The rivalry is not quite so friendly in his mind.”
“This seems like more complication than is actually warranted in the situation. I’m just sayin’.” Gunther laughed, throwing his head back with a full smile that took over his face. He had the most charming dimple in his cheek when he smiled.
“The paranormal world is definitely complicated,” Gunther agreed. “While I understand the complications and rivalries, I don’t want it to be like that when I become ringmaster. I see my father’s anger and resentment and secrecy and paranoia, and it just doesn’t seem like a happy way to live.”
“Yeah, I can understand that.”
Gunther and I continued strolling through the open field as the sun continued its slow slide beneath the horizon. Suddenly, Gunther held his hand out gently to stop my walk. “Charlotte, I don’t want you to see me as an enemy. I don’t want to see you as an enemy.”
“I don’t, Gunther, really.” Gunther was far too cute, blond, and charming to be my enemy, and he was also the first person I met since becoming ringmaster that didn’t depend on me somehow. Uncle Phil depended on me to become the new ringmaster, and everyone else that I met within the Magical Midway needed that, too. Gunther didn’t seem to want anything from me other than my friendship.
He is still Roland Makepeace’s son, Samson interjected. Do not become too comfortable with the young man. I didn’t respond.
“That’s good. I hope you still feel that way after a few more interactions with my father.” Gunther stuck his hands in his pockets and turned toward the clear late afternoon sky, squinting as he stared into the distance. “My father really wants to be the only ringmaster. I don’t know why. Greed, maybe?”
“You don’t have a very good relationship with your father, do you?”
“I love my father. He’s my father. But no, we don’t have a good relationship. We are… we are very different people.”
“Whatever his reasons, it doesn’t matter. I have too many people depending on me to allow this place to fall,” I told him.
“The Witches’ Council definitely wants to see us both fall. At least a portion of the Council, anyway.”
“Mina, Mabel, and Mercy already paid me a visit. I was not impressed.” I made a face and Gunther laughed.
“Ah, yes, the terrible triplets. While they are somewhat amusing, they are also formidable enemies. I wanted to talk to you about your magical training primarily because of them.”
“Oh?”
“Since you are the ringmaster, you can’t leave here for more than a day or two, so you don’t even have the option of going to any of the Witches Academies now. Even if you did, I don’t think you would want to. It would give the terrible triplets too much information about your strengths and weaknesses. They would use that. Without a doubt.”
“It seems a little late to talk about going to school, anyway. I mean, I’m almost thirty.”
“And yet without that training, you are at a distinct disadvantage. You have to depend on the Midway to protect you—and as you can see with what happened to your uncle, that can’t always be relied upon.”
I shuddered. Just a few days ago, I felt practically omnipotent. Well, people claimed I was almost omnipotent. As the days passed, nothing about being the ringmaster seemed to be precisely as it was presented. My own talent echoed the truth of what Gunther was saying. If he wasn’t righ
t, he believed wholeheartedly that he was.
“Okay, so if you were me, what would you do?”
“I would let a ringmaster heir teach me the magic that I need to know,” Gunther smiled and stepped back to bow formally. “You’d honestly be doing me a favor. In teaching you the magic I think you need to know, you’ll be helping me to see the circus differently. My father runs the Makepeace Circus with an iron fist and a tyrant’s attitude. That’s not who I want to be.”
“Wouldn’t your father be angry at you? If he found out you were helping me, I mean.”
“No doubt. That’s why I plan to tell Dad I’m getting close to you to spy on you. Which is kind of the truth. Just not for the reasons he would assume.” Gunther turned and held out his hands. “So, what you think?”
The young man is sincere in his offer, Samson said.
I know, I can sense it.
Can you also sense he finds you pretty? While his offer is sincere, he harbors some additional agendas he is not entirely as forthcoming about, Samson said.
Oh? I asked as I blushed. You can sense that?
His familiar Delilah is quite the chatterbox. No need to sense anything when she’s happy to let me know he’s talked about you to her extensively.
“I think I’d like to know more about the circuses beyond just my family’s view of it, too, I guess,” I told Gunther after a pause. “I also don’t like having to depend on anything I don’t understand for my own self-defense. Maybe it’s a good idea to have a backup, you know?”
“So, we’re doing it?” Gunther asked with a smile.
“Yep, let’s do it.”
“Fantastic.” We shook hands formally and laughed.
“I really do appreciate your willingness to teach me,” I told him as we walked back toward the residential area. “The offer was really generous, especially since I’ve never been trained at all.”
“I think I’ll get quite a bit out of it, too,” Gunther told me hopefully. “Dust off the old wand and practice my own skills. At the very least, I’ll get to leave my father’s Midway frequently.”