by Leanne Leeds
“How so?”
“Clearly you’re powerful enough to avoid any consequences.”
“That would make me just as corrupt as everybody else.”
“When everyone is corrupt, what’s one more person, more or less?” Faleena asked.
“When that person is me, it matters. I’ll stand for the inquiry just like anyone else if it comes to that. I won’t be found guilty, though. I didn’t do anything wrong. And I don’t think it will come to that.”
Faleena eyed me suspiciously and then nodded.
“She’s really quite adorable,” Faleena said to Anya. “I’m surprised you haven’t nailed this one down.”
“She bats for another team,” Anya laughed and pointed to Gunther. “That’s the ball she refuses to hit, too.”
Gunther blushed.
“In any case, you don’t date witches, Faleena,” Anya said.
“Right, right. But really, I’ll try anything once. Sometimes twice, if it’s fun.”
“Dated any more naiads lately?”
“Oh no, my dear skinhead sprite,” Faleena shook her head no and laughed. “You were definitely an experience that I would be unable to repeat.”
“You and she were an item?” Gunther asked, surprised. Fortuna elbowed him in the ribs.
“No, actually,” Anya asked him, turning toward Faleena. “I was talking about my sister, Alexa.”
“Right, right! My memory isn’t what it used to be,” Faleena told Anya, slapping her arm. “You and your sisters are so similar it’s hard not to get one of you confused with the other.”
I stared at Faleena. The naiad sisters were actually distinctly different from one another. Someone getting the long-haired, quiet Alessandra mixed up with bald, boisterous Anya or the garish, conniving Alexa was not something I could see.
“I just didn’t know that… um… naiads and bear shifters dated,” Gunther said as the women stared at him.
“Yes, I’m sure that’s what you didn’t know,” Faleena said, and Gunther blushed an even deeper red.
“I want to go talk to Scout,” I told Gunther.
“Not a chance.”
“I would be happy to escort you both to the wake circle,” Faleena said with a little too much eagerness. “It will be taking place for the first day so that people can pay their respects.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Gunther said.
“We need to learn more about Chase and Scout. What better way to do it than by showing up at the funeral? Besides, if I don’t pay my respects, it’s going to look suspicious.”
“Yes, I agree with her. She’s critical, and she must pay our leader her respects. Even if she murdered him, that would be expected,” Faleena agreed.
Faleena sent Anya off, informing her she wasn’t nearly important enough to attend the vigil. Anya shrugged and left the three of us alone.
“Are we ready?”
“I’m still not comfortable with this,” Gunther said as we walked.
“You are a very nervous little man, aren’t you, Mr. Makepeace?”
Gunther stopped walking and stared at her. “Excuse me?”
“Such concern you have for an omnipotent being,” Faleena pointed out. Gunther stared at the werebear, and I could see the red flush of anger creeping up his neck. I expected friends of Anya to be a little rough-and-tumble, but Faleena took it to a whole new level.
“I would not enter anyone’s fire circle,” Faleena said as she grabbed my arm before I crossed a makeshift entry point. “You are certainly not welcome at most firesides. If you try, you will wind up provoking whatever family or tribe controls the area. Their honor will demand that they eject you. Forcefully. So you should stay away from everyone if you can.”
“Have you heard anything further about what happened to Chase Trout?”
“No doubt when we get to where his body is on display, there will be people assembled there discussing the situation. I have to warn you, Ms. Astley, your presence will not be welcome. This festival has turned from a celebration into a gathering of mourners, and an angry one at that.”
“I understand,” I told her.
“Just through these trees over here,” Faleena pointed to a softly glowing pathway lined with candles. As we continued slowly up the route, I heard the echoes of arguing and weeping.
“Are you sure you wish to do this, Ms. Astley? Mr. Makepeace?”
“I can’t sit on my hands and do nothing, Faleena. And please, call me Charlotte. If you keep calling me Ms. Astley, I’m going to keep feeling like a suspect in a murder investigation.”
“As well you should since you are,” she responded coldly. I glanced sharply at Anya’s friend, but she didn’t return the glance.
We came through the trees, and Faleena stopped short. “Well, this just got more entertaining,” she whispered under her breath.
“What?”
“Wayland is here.”
Gunther cursed.
As we walked in, silence descended abruptly cutting off the conversations and expressions of grief. The clearing held at least seventy-five people, but it felt as if not a single one breathed once they noticed us. All heads turned to stare.
We stared back waiting.
After several minutes, a large, muscled man stood up and cleared his throat. His hair was white, and his beard matched the snowy fluff on his head. A considerable belly peeked out beneath his black T-shirt emblazoned with Tough Enough to be a Blacksmith. One large eye right in the middle of his forehead stared at me.
“Heir. Heat Merchant.” The man nodded as he greeted us.
The crowd remained silent.
“What’s he mean, heat merchant?” I asked Gunther quietly.
“He won’t greet you as a ringmaster because you’re not his ringmaster, my father is. His calling you a heat merchant was sarcastic. Basically, he’s saying you attract problems.”
“Wait, he’s from the Makepeace Circus? Who is he?”
“Wayland Black, Chase Trout’s closest friend. He’s a blacksmith, and a cyclops as well as the unofficial lay leader of our carnival.”
“That I am,” the man called as he thrust his shoulders back and his chest forward. “You don’t belong here, witch. Either of you.”
Welcoming bunch.
“We came to pay our respects to Chase Trout, as it’s proper for us to do,” I told him, and the area exploded into gasps, chatter, and shouts.
“Go home, murderer!” someone shouted from the back.
“Killer!” someone else called.
“Everybody shut up!” At Wayland’s loud demand, the grove’s deafening chatter grew quiet, then silent. “Let the murderer and her entourage say what they have to say. We’re waitin’.”
A cyclops raising his only eyebrow at me was a frightening sight. Just as I prepared to speak, a shout cut me off.
“We don't answer to outsiders, and we sure don’t listen to them anymore. You are not one of us, either,” Scout Trout told Wayland as he pushed his way into the clearing and made his way aggressively toward the huge man.
“Your brother never considered me an outsider, kid,” Wayland said leaning into the new leader of the werebears. “I’m certainly not going to let some young upstart push me out of my best friend’s wake.”
“Blood ties last beyond death. Unless you’ve been visited by my brother's ghost? You are nothing to him anymore. And without him, Cyclops, you are nothing to us.”
“Your brother always said you were the stupid one,” Wayland sneered, and then he spat on the ground. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a parchment and waived it in Scout’s face. “Your brother made me the executor of his estate upon his death. You got no legal standing to keep me out of here.”
“He’s dead. The paper is meaningless.”
“Because he’s dead, the paper is binding,” Wayland shot back. “And until your brother is in the ground three days hence, you’re not the leader here. I am. It says so right here.”
“He was, of course,” Bolt said as he entered into the clearing to a surge of energy. As soon as Scout’s eyes met Bolt’s, the werebear brother’s tense shoulders relaxed, and his angry face smoothed into a placidly calm frown. “Several years ago, your brother made him an honorary member of the clan. I understand all of the Makepeace Circus members witnessed this event. Did they not?”
“We did,” Gunther stated, and Wayland nodded. Scout glared at Gunther with barely contained fury.
“How did he know that?” I whispered to Gunther, and a wave of woozy vertigo washed over me. My hands and face tingled as if energy was being sprinkled all over me. Gunther grabbed me around the waist and glared at Bolt.
“My, my, isn’t this an interesting drama,” Faleena murmured. Bolt’s eyes flickered to Faleena and then back to Scout. “Everyone is so angry and mistrustful. Delightful.”
Bolt continued as he pushed himself to the front of the crowd.
“I propose that three days delay to your new throne, bear, is not that much of a postponement. It will give you some time to mourn your dear brother and his untimely, unexpected death.”
“His murder…” Scout corrected.
“Yes, yes, of course. We must call things what they are, and clearly, your brother had enemies that wished him dead. Some of whom may be in this very clearing,” Bolt agreed as he stepped closer to the now-calm aspiring werebear leader. “As an elf, I stand ready to assist our werebear brothers and sisters in any way possible during this tragic time. We do, after all, have some useful skills at our disposal.”
“We do have lawgivers here,” Faleena pointed out as she gestured to Gunther and me. “They should be doing the inquiry, shouldn’t they? The Witches’ Council hasn’t disbanded them. Well, not yet.”
“Not when one is suspected of the murder, and the other has a history of protecting the one suspected,” Bolt disagreed. “Forgive my insinuation, Ringmaster, but we must ensure that the inquiry is above reproach.”
“Of course, elf. That seems wise,” Faleena said, publicly ensuring that Gunther and I would have a difficult time with any investigation. Did she speak up for us to get us the investigation or to get us out of it?
Because if it was the latter, well done.
“You’re a member of the Magical Midway. How is your assistance supposed to be above reproach?” Wayland asked.
“Elves are well known to cleave to the law,” Scout told Wayland. “His loyalty is to the highest law in the land based on the elven code. He’s fine. Better than you.”
“Anything is better than those two witches!” someone shouted from the crowd.
“I hand this over to you, Bolt, and put you in charge of the inquiry into my brother’s murder,” Scout said. Bolt nodded and bowed to the next werebear leader.
“You’re not in charge here,” Wayland growled at him.
“Then do your own damn inquiry!” Scout snapped at him. Bolt placed a hand on Scout’s shoulder, and he relaxed. “I just want to ensure my brother’s murderer is brought to justice. I welcome additional investigations. Please do your own.”
“You bet I will,” Wayland told him, turned, and left the clearing.
“What does Bolt have to do with all this?” I asked Gunther once we returned to my yurt.
“Elves are always getting involved in things that they shouldn’t be,” Faleena told me as she followed us in. “The paranormal world would be far less dramatic if those shiny white busybodies just minded their own business.”
“About a month ago, Bolt helped Fiona and me with some information. He was perfectly charming and incredibly useful to talk to.”
“Of course he was,” Faleena rolled her eyes as Uncle Phil entered the yurt with Samson. “Elves can be incredibly charming. Especially when they want something from you.”
“But he didn’t want anything from me. I wanted something from him.”
“That’s what you think. Elves always have an agenda. Even if you think it’s your agenda by the end of dealing with them, you might find out it was never yours at all.”
“Clearly, he has a vested interest in what’s going on here. I’m curious, Charlotte—was Bolt the one that suggested the Magical Midway come to the Werebear Jamboree?” Gunther asked.
“No. He didn’t talk to me about the Werebear Jamboree at all. Aldo Forrest visited me during open office hours and suggested that we come. He thought it would be a good opportunity for the werebear community to get to know us, and for the cubs to experience a circus.”
Faleena Hobb stared at me, her eyes narrowing.
“What?”
“We don’t call our children cubs.”
“What do you call them?”
“Children.”
“Right, sorry,” I told her.
I’m sorry about that, Samson said. The children have always been called cubs as far as I can remember.
They have, Uncle Phil agreed. Not calling them cubs seems to be a new thing. I wonder where that came from.
“Are we done with the discussion yet?” Anya asked as she stomped into my yurt. “This is a festival, and I have friends I’d like to go visit. I need Faleena.”
“You are as impatient as you ever were,” the werebear responded. “I would think a murder investigation imperiling your friend would trump your need for socialization.”
“If my sister couldn’t kill her, I highly doubt that anyone else could,” Anya scoffed. “She’ll be fine.”
“Your sister thought she could do it on her own using the aid of two idiot werelions. I highly suggest that you stick to the side of your ringmaster like glue. No offense. And if the framing now includes an elf, she may wish to take this a little more seriously.”
“Framing? Wait a minute, who said anything about me being framed?” I asked Faleena. “So far, this just looks like a run-of-the-mill accusation based on prejudice and intolerance.”
“You’re very naïve, aren’t you?” Faleena raised her eyebrow. “Anya, I insist we remain with Ms. Astley as much as possible. Clearly, she needs our aid.”
“I’m not going to make a bunch of assumptions based on one conversation in the forest. Seriously, we’ll be fine. You guys go say hi to whoever. If we need you, we’ll find you.”
A flash of frustration exploded out of Faleena, and then it was gone. I couldn’t understand why this woman I just met was so concerned about me, but I didn’t want to ruin the festival for Anya. She really needed a party after all that stuff with her sister.
“Talk to your Aldo Forest,” Faleena snapped her fingers. “I would bet a week’s worth of salmon that the idea to bring the Magical Midway here was not his own.”
Take the bet. Please take the bet.
Samson, you really need to focus on the fact that a murder took place. You aren’t getting any salmon until we figure out who killed Chase Trout and why.
That’s cruel and unusual punishment. And not something you can enforce anyway. I can catch my own dang fish, thank you very much.
“What are you two going to do?” I asked Anya.
“I am going to go say hello to all of my old friends at the festival,” she said. “I’ll get them all drunk, and see what they say. Faleena and I will report back to you in the morning. See? I can have fun and help at the same time. I’m very good at doing two things at once.”
4
“Tell me about Wayland,” I asked Gunther the next morning as we sat in my yurt and drank coffee. “Has he been with the Makepeace Circus long?”
“All my life,” Gunther responded. “He’s a cyclops, so he’s a rough-and-tumble kind of guy. Long-lived. I’ve never known him not to be honorable, though, even though he’s kind of a jerk. Chase Trout was like a brother to him. Years ago, the werebear saved Wayland’s sister from being drowned by a bloodthirsty mob. He risked his life f
or her even though he didn’t know her. Since then, Wayland felt like he owed him.”
“I guess so,” I nodded. “How long ago was this?”
“It had to be more than a hundred years ago,” Gunther said as he stared into his coffee thinking. “I suppose it could have been more than that. Time is funny in the paranormal world. Lifespans can be so long, and you just don’t notice it.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot,” Gunther smiled and leaned forward.
“How come you haven’t used one of the lawgiver guilty person powers on me?” Gunther’s smile faded from his face. “I mean, you’re just assuming I didn’t kill Chase Trout. You have the ability to confirm it for yourself, you know.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
“But a lot of people seem to think I did. Don’t you want to make sure?”
“You're ridiculous, Charlotte,” Gunther said as he put his coffee cup down. “I know you didn’t kill the bear. I don’t think you’re capable of taking a branch and thrusting it through a person. I don’t need to tell you to freeze and see if you do. Besides, though, you’re a witch. Our lawgiver powers don’t work on witches. Just other paranormals.”
Yet again I find the Witches' Council concerned with everybody else other than themselves.
“You wanted to see me, Charlotte?” Aldo Forrest stuck his head in my yurt and waited to be invited in. I waved the massive werebear into the room and motioned to one of the chairs sitting around the table.
“Obviously, you’ve heard about what’s been going on,” I told Aldo once he took a seat across from Gunther and me. “First, I want to offer my deepest sympathies on the loss of your werebear leader. I didn’t know Chase Trout at all, but I’m really sorry I never got to.”
“I appreciate that Charlotte, thank you,” Aldo said, nodding. “I think you would’ve liked him. He was a good and fair leader, always protecting the werebear community from the Witches’ Council if he had the ability to do so. I think you and he would have had much to talk about, and he would’ve supported your seat and your agenda both.”