by Leanne Leeds
“What does Faleena Hobb have to do with any of it?” I asked him. “Or Devana?”
“What are you talking about? Those women have nothing to do with nothin’, girl.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m drunk,” the man responded, and belched in my direction. The scent of beer infused with some herb permeated the air around me, and I breathed out quickly to keep from gagging. “Sure? No. Drunk? Sure am.”
“Look, Mr. Black, I understand that you’re going through a tough time. But your friend Chase trusted you to be his executor or whatever the official paranormal title is,” I told the sullen, drunk cyclops. “If that’s all you know, we may not be able to figure out what’s behind this. And if we can’t figure out what’s behind it, Chase’s murderers may succeed.”
Gunther reached out and gently tapped my hand. He looked at me with one eyebrow raised, and I nodded, giving him permission to tell Wayland what we knew.
“Charlotte heard Faleena talking with Bolt and with Scout.”
“When?” Wayland asked Gunther.
“An hour ago, maybe two,” he answered. “She, meaning Faleena, didn’t talk to them at the same time. But her conversation with Bolt clearly indicated that she was part of whatever conspiracy he’s engaged in.”
“What we can’t figure out is whether the issues with people framing Charlotte has to do with Chase’s murder, or if it just presented an opportunity for someone to kill two birds with one stone,” I explained.
“You’d have to have a perfect aim to kill two birds with one stone,” the cyclops answered. He fell silent and looked intently into the fire that wasn’t there. After a few moments passed, he spoke again. “I know I’m not as smart as you ringmasters and all, but you’re both lawgivers. Why not just do that lawgiver hocus-pocus on her? Doesn’t she have to tell you?”
“I’m currently suspected of being the murderer,” I told him. “If I get her to confess, no one will believe it.”
“And there’s been some indication that I… um, well, that I may be in some danger. If we make a move against Faleena out in the open, whoever’s working with her could simply try and kill me.”
“Can’t you protect him at the Magical Midway? Isn’t that the whole reason your Daddy doesn’t mind you going there? That your little girlfriend can protect you?”
“How do we get her there?” I asked. “And what about Devana?”
“What about her?”
“Are they in it together?”
“No,” Devana said, stepping out from behind a tree. “No, they are not. Though considering how loudly the three of you are speaking, if someone wanted to conduct a conspiracy the last thing they should do is tell you.”
The severe woman seemed to reflect the moonlight with a radiance that didn’t quite look natural but wasn’t quite magical, either. It was as if the air around her absorbed the silver-white light and incorporated it into her skin.
“May I approach?” she asked.
I answered no as the two men agreed.
Great.
Gunther and I stood in the darkened clearing as Devana strolled toward us. She stepped through the forest with a majestic beauty that made my breath catch in my throat.
“The forest told me of your spirit walk, ringmaster,” Devana told me once she drew close. “I wondered if you were the one I was sent here to protect. When the trees told me that you had emerged, I knew it was time for me to reveal myself for your protection. Please forgive my subterfuge of yesterday. I did not wish the conspirators to know my motivations in being here.”
My muscles tensed. I felt Gunther tense at almost precisely the same time next to me. What my uncle had said about the huntress witches ran through my head as tingles ran down my spine. I had to admit, her claim she was here to protect me somehow intrigued me.
On the other hand, a whole lot of people and a whole lot of things in the paranormal world seem to be precisely the opposite of what they claimed, so I wasn’t taking any chances.
I stepped back when she was five feet away. Devana respectfully paused her approach.
“What do you mean, reveal yourself?” Gunther asked.
“What do you mean the trees told you?” I asked.
Devana smiled.
“As you have no doubt realized, there are many types of witches,” she said. I nodded even though I really hadn’t realized anything of the sort. “I am of the wild witches. I owe my allegiance to nothing but nature, and I am one of the last of the witches that keep to the balance.”
“The balance of what?”
“The balance of everything,” she replied. “People fear us, it is true, but they only fear us because they do not understand.”
“Well, I don’t understand,” I told her. “Let’s start at the beginning. And if possible, could we leave out the cryptic statements? I’m getting enough from Ethel Elkins on that score. Just talk to me plainly. What are you here to protect me from?”
“I am here to provide the balance,” she answered. “You are engaged in a war, though you may not yet realize it.”
“Oh, believe me, I realize it.”
“No, Charlotte Astley, I don’t believe you do,” Devana answered. She gestured to the chairs surrounding the fire pit. As Gunther and I sat down, she waved her hand and roared the fire to life. “The Thirteenth Witch has been foretold to bring balance to our world. To bring down those that are too high, and to bring those up that have fallen too far.”
“And I’m the Thirteenth Witch?” I asked.
“That… that answer is more complicated than you might believe. And for now, that answer is no. It is the prophecy and the steps leading to its fulfillment that you must worry about. We are early on the path.”
“What happens if the prophecy is fulfilled?” Gunther asked.
“Why, balance, young Makepeace. Even your family name cloaks you in the weight of the prophecy and your role in it.”
“His name?” I asked her. “What does his family name have to do with it?”
“Not just his, both of yours. The Astley name is believed to derive from the seventh-century phrase meaning farm or settlement. The Makepeace name retains its origins, originally given to mediators. It’s meaning is right in the two words that make up the whole. You see? Balance.”
“While this is all really interesting,” I told her, losing patience. “None of this seems particularly relevant to the situation at hand. Maybe at some point after this, I’ll grab a magic eight ball, shake it, and ask it what I should do. For the moment, though, I don’t care about any of this. I care about who killed Chase.”
“Chase was killed because he would not bring his clan out of balance,” Devana said as she leaned forward. “The bear leader was strong, and he would not yield to those that would strip his people of their culture. He was killed for it.”
“How do you know that?” I asked sharply.
“I am one with the wild things. They know what happens in their forest. They see many things that we do not.”
“So, the trees solve the murder, and they know who did it?”
“Trees do not have names, and so they do not know names. Chase’s blood ran red along the trunk of a great tree, and the great tree knew his pain and regret at the end.”
“What was his regret?” Wayland asked gruffly.
“That he would not see his friend before he went was one,” Devana told the cyclops. Her voice was thick with sympathy for the man, and she answered him gently. It surprised me. “The tree said his blood ran true for you, and you were in his thoughts and in his heart. You will no doubt see your friend again, for he will wait for you.”
Snot-filled snorts filled the air as Wayland choked back his grief for Chase.
“That he could not avoid his death was another,” Devana told all three of us. “He was not ready to go, and he was upset with himself that he underestimated his enemy.”
“Who is his enemy? Did he know?”
“Can you not guess? Who wou
ld be powerful enough to arrange the murder of one so loved? Who would benefit from turning paranormal clan against paranormal clan? Who would celebrate seeing the death of a beloved leader?”
“The Witches’ Council,” Gunther said.
“But why? Why would they do this? And who here works for them?” I asked.
“You already know,” Devana told me. “You eliminated everyone but me and one other. If I am not the murderer, then…”
“Faleena.” Gunther looked stricken at the idea of yet another friend that turned into an enemy.
“But why? Why would a werebear kill their own leader?”
“Why indeed?” Devana asked. “You have asked to set aside the prophecy of the Thirteenth Witch, and so I will say no more on the subject. I hope you understand that as the fulfillment steps ever closer, there are those that work to push it away. It is all connected.”
I stared at her sharply. She stared back calmly.
“Charlotte?” Gunther asked. I knew what he was asking me. What did I sense from the strange woman? Was she telling the truth, or was this all another elaborate ruse?
In talking with Devana, my suspicion of her had slowly melted away. Her energy was… regal. Divine, almost. She had a priest-like aura about her as we spoke. Her motives and her words were clear as a still lake. There was no guile about her at all, and her emotions were uncomplicated.
Service to purpose. Care. Resolution.
“When we first met, it felt like you were hiding something from me. Now, it doesn’t,” I told her. “I want to trust you but…”
“Your suspicion is warranted in the situation you’re in, Ringmaster. Hopefully, as we get to know each other better, you will learn to trust in me. I mean you no harm so long as you mean our community no harm.”
“I want to believe you.”
“Truthfully, it does not matter whether you believe me or believe in me. The Thirteenth Witch prophecy is coming to pass, and I am destined to play a role in it. I am destined to be at your side to keep the balance,” Devana smiled.
“What if I tell you I don’t want your help? That I don’t believe in any of this?”
“That leaf on that tree doesn’t believe in photosynthesis,” Devana said as she gestured behind her to one of the towering trees in the forest. “It is, however, still green.”
“Point taken,” I told her.
“What’s photosynthesis?” Gunther asked me.
“I really need to get the Internet at the Magical Midway,” I told him.
“I would suggest that we conclude this meeting and continue with your task, Charlotte,” Devana said as she stood up. The elegant and fierce looking woman extended a hand to help me out of my chair.
As I clasped it, my palm grew warm, and an orb of light flashed out from our joined hands. I struggle to let go but Devana held me firmly in her grip as the white sphere stretched out over our hands and then grew bigger and bigger and lighter until it seemed to fade.
As the light faded, I withdrew my hand. Calmly.
Coldly.
“Charlotte, are you all right?” Gunther asked me, concerned.
“Of course. A paradigm-twisting thing just happened without my knowing,” I told him as I shrugged. “That’s all. I should just start my day assuming that some earth-shattering paranormal event that shifts my world on its axis will take place, and most days I doubt I would be disappointed. It’s just Thursday.”
I turned and walked away from the three of them toward the Magical Midway so no one could see my hands shaking. Despite my apathetic comment to Gunther, gripping the hand of the huntress witch had exploded energy within me that was racing through my veins.
Gunther’s confession.
Another murder.
Another betrayal.
And another betrayal.
And now some supernatural bonding with a woman I barely had a conversation with, and certainly didn’t trust. A woman I suspected of murder not an hour ago.
I walked faster as my hand shook even more.
I didn’t have the energy anymore to bother with concern over a ball of light. I didn’t have the power to be concerned about my future husband, the future of the circus, the future of the paranormal world, or who killed the bear leader.
The weight of it all hung over me, and I tried to shake it off. But I couldn’t. As the energy raced through my veins, my resentment burned with it, a fire that exploded within me as my life was twisted one more time down a path not of my own choosing. Toward a destiny out of my hands.
Things have just changed, Samson said as my foot touched the circus ground.
Things sure have changed, Samson. I’m done.
You are what?
Done. I’m just done.
13
I wanted a eureka moment.
Just one perfect moment where I felt everything was okay.
I wanted a moment where I figured everything out, everything clicked, everything was understood. I wished to stand up during this festival and tell everyone why Chase Trout had to die, why Faleena had probably killed him, and how they were being used by the Witches' Council in blaming me.
I wanted to fix it. And then I wanted everything to be okay. The bears would shake my hand. We’d head off to the next circus. The humans would come back and laugh. I would walk my midway knowing that this boring, nomadic life with these crazy people was secure.
No prophecies. No destinies. No secrets.
I wanted that more than anything.
This whole situation, the whole convoluted plot, the entire festival, the entire crime… It was just elaborate and stupid. It was one more attempt by the Witches' Council to control the paranormals they decided they would rule.
A control they would kill to keep.
Are you sure that Faleena is the one that killed Chase?
Pretty sure, although I still don’t know why. And honestly, I’m starting to not care. This isn’t my problem.
You’re a lawgiver.
I’m an idiot. I never should’ve agreed to become ringmaster, and I never should’ve put on that stupid lawgiver ring. I’m tired of all this, Samson. Prophecies, Thirteenth Witches, ringmasters. People I thought I knew betraying me. This is all just ridiculous. It’s ridiculous!
“Charlotte, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Yeah, let’s not forget the ghosts,” I told Anya as she met me walking along the path toward my yurt. “Sorry, was just having a mental conversation with the cat.”
Wow, you do sound frustrated. I’m the cat again, am I?
“This imbroglio is stretching my last nerve, Anya,” I told her as we walked closer to my yurt. “I think I’m done. Actually, I think I’m cracking up a little bit. Like, my mind’s gone, my emotions have left the building. This is a dream, right?”
“What’s been a dream?”
“Everything! Everything has to be a dream. I bet I’m not even a witch. I bet I’m some human girl having a fever dream because I’m in a hospital and I’m really sick, and the drugs are making me cuckoo,” I told her, laughing. “This is bananas! A huntress witch fated to protect me, a man I turned into a witch prophesied to be my husband, a whole festival of bears that hate me because an elf got me drunk. Only I can’t get drunk. And I can’t kiss my boyfriend! I just… This is crazy. This is absolutely crazy!”
Charlotte, you must take a deep breath and calm down, my uncle’s voice echoed in my head. I’m heading over to you now. Don’t do anything rash.
“I shouldn’t do anything rash? Are you kidding? Nothing in this stupid place is anything other than rash!” I shouted to the entire Magical Midway. People milling about left and right stopped to stare. I glared at all of them and laughed again. “What? Like you people act so normal? Go stare at someone else!”
Anya was stupefied as Gunther raced up to us.
“Charlotte, you’re making a scene. Come on, let’s go inside,” he said, grabbing my arm.
“It’s my ridiculous circu
s, isn’t it? I can make a scene if I feel like it. And I have to tell you, husband to be, I really feel like it!”
“Then get the heck over it!” Ethel Elkins said as she stomped upon the three of us. “You’re a grown woman! Get a hold of yourself!”
I stared at the norn glaring down at me and burst into peals of laughter. Tears rolled down my face as the tension wracking my body tried to expel itself through any release available.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” I whispered to her through maniacal laughter I couldn’t entirely control.
“No, you don’t know what you’re supposed to do! And you’re trying to figure it out alone,” the old woman answered sternly. “If you keep recoiling from every hand extended to you, every aid sent to you by fate, you will lose your mind and this fight!”
“Balance, Charlotte,” Devana said as she walked up calmly. “You are overwhelmed because you feel that you are alone. I ask you, sister, how could one such as you ever be alone? Think, Charlotte. Breathe in the scent of the forest, the air of your home, and think.”
I can’t think. I can’t breathe.
You can. We are here, all of us, to help you, Samson said.
As I felt Samson reach across the Magical Midway to give me an anchor in my emotional storm and slam control around me, I glanced sheepishly around at the eyes watching me with concern. Turning, I raced into my yurt for privacy.
I wanted to apologize to them for my outburst, for making the citizens of the Magical Midway nervous yet again, but I wasn’t sorry. I had finally come unglued, and I didn’t want to apologize for it.
It was all too much.
No one was speaking.
Uncle Phil, Gunther, Samson, Anya, and Devana had been joined by Fiona and Ningul. The seven of them fanned out around me as I sat in my favorite chair sipping tea carefully while my hands continued shaking. I could see the stolen glances between them, the looks of concern. Just as I was about to speak, Ethel Elkins stomped in.
“Good, everyone is here, and she’s not acting like a basket case. That means we can move on to the next phase, yes?”