Carnival Charlatan

by Skeeter Enright

  Like I said, Mister D thinks of everything.

  “How do you explain the missing cows?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Suction?”

  I raised my eyebrows and gave him a look. He just shrugged again, tilting his head in a way that showed me a hint of the mischievous boy he must have been fifty years ago.

  Grinning wearily, I took a breath, closed my eyes, used the energy stored in one of my scarf bangles, and delicately brushed the side of the guard’s head. It would bruise within the hour.

  It took a fist full of energy from six of my rings to blow the roof off the barn. I loved it when I got the chance to do big bang type magic. I so often wanted to but so seldom got to blow things up. Releasing that much energy almost made up for being so scared last night. I’d have enjoyed myself if I weren’t so exhausted.

  The roof ripped away with shrieks of wood and metal, and it flopped over into the horse show arena next to the barn. Unfortunately, the guard’s car parked next to the arena smashed under the debris. The car alarm bleated rhythmically. I looked at the somnolent guard. He stirred and settled back, snoring louder now with his mouth open. I hoped he had insurance.

  The pink light of dawn flowed into the roofless barn. The surviving cows seemed to have forgotten the horrors of the previous night. They didn’t notice their missing companions, and after being briefly startled at the roof’s exodus, they stood calmly chewing their cud with only dreams of green fields behind their eyes. Today is one of those days I wished I had a simple bovine brain.

  The roof debris settled, slightly creaking and groaning like a lost ghost.

  “Should I stop the alarm?” I asked Mister D.

  “No, let it go,” he replied.

  The guard began to stir. Mister D and I looked at each other. My spells must be slipping. We went to him, surreptitiously scuffing the protective circle away.

  “Are you all right,” I asked him, my hand on his shoulder as he tried to stand up.

  He looked at me groggily, looked around blearily and asked, “What…what happened?”

  “A tornado hit the barn. You’re lucky to be alive,” Mister D said pulling out his cell phone. “I’ll call the rescue squad. It looks like you got knocked unconscious. You’d better sit down.”

  Just then, Freddie the Geek came into the barn. So much for Mister D’s directions to stay on the midway.

  “Holy shit, did you see the barn roof? It squashed somebody’s car?” Freddie saw me and sneered. Freddie never liked me. “You look like shit, Airy.”

  I was so weary, I could care less what a guy who ate disgusting things to impress the marks thought of me. I flipped him the bird just to assert myself.

  “It was a tornado,” the guard said, looking up to where the roof should have been.

  “Freddie, can you look after Mister Culbersen until the rescue squad gets here,” Mister D asked as he closed up his phone.

  “Sure boss,” he replied, taking my place with the guard and easing him back into his chair.

  “We’d best get out of here. I need to check the rest of the lot,” Mister D said.

  Less than halfway to the midway, Fast Eddie came striding up to us. The boss explained the situation.

  “The tornado story will probably work,” Eddie agreed. “I’ll do what I can about the cows. Why don’t you call the sheriff to say you think they might be loose in the area? I’ll get some of the boys to go out in the fields to the South and beat down some corn. Make it look like cattle went through.” Fast Eddie was asking a lot of Mister D. Calling police was not something Carnies usually consider.

  I was too tired to worry about police, but my heart broke thinking about the kids looking for their missing cows. Despite his considerable skills, Fast Eddie was going to be working overtime to sell either the suction theory or the cowless stampede. I didn’t envy him.

  We walked down the midway and looked at the devastation wrought by the rampaging demons, as well as the storm. Mister D looked so sad; I almost started crying. As we made our way into the back lot, and my motor home, Mister D said quietly, “I saw them last night. They tested the protection circles. You saved us all. Your grandma would have been very proud of you.”

  Then I did cry.

  Chapter Six

  It was not quite noon when a knock at the door woke me. Janie bustled into my trailer. Most Carnies wouldn’t think of entering another’s place without being invited, but Janie was special. She was Grammy’s best friend, and I’d known her all my life. I made her an amulet, which let her pass the wards on my door without being zapped to fuzzy dust.

  “Airy, honey, are you up?”

  “I’m up now,” I said, weakly rolling over and peering into the living section of my home from the bed. You couldn’t call it a bedroom, since it was just the book-lined platform at one end of the trailer. My head felt as big as a pumpkin, and I’m sure a cat must have sneaked in and peed in my mouth while I slept. Most of the mud that had clung to me, now lay pulverized to dust on my sheets. Although, I could feel a few clumps in my hair, scratching against the side of my face.

  “I’m sorry to wake you, Hon,” she said.

  “That’s okay. I’d have to get up to answer the door anyway,” I said with a smile.

  You had to love Janie. Wearing her perpetual bib overalls, with a Greek fisherman’s cap over her iron gray curls, she was a five foot nothing bundle of energy who always smelled of wintergreen mints. With forty years of experience as a Carney, she knew every secret on the lot. Today, she was not wearing her usual sunny smile.

  “I thought you’d want to know, Amanda isn’t back yet,” she said. “Tom’s worried. He looked all over town and called all the folks she knows around here.” She gave me a significant look, “Maybe you can do something? I know you have some…ways of finding things.”

  Janie knew all the secrets but was discreet enough not to blurt anything out, even in the privacy of my trailer. While she talked, she lit my stove and put on a pot of coffee in my old-fashioned percolator. Before I stood up, she had slices of bread in a pan, toasting.

  “I’ll be out as soon as I get dressed.”

  “You’d best get a shower, too. You smell like cow shit.” Her smile didn’t get as far as her eyes. She was genuinely worried.

  I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Janie, could you have Tom find me the blue hair comb Amanda wears at parties? The one her mother gave her.”

  “I sure will, love.” She didn’t even ask why I wanted the comb. “I know he’ll appreciate you being on the job,” she said. “Oh, by the way, we’re closed today, because of the tornado.”

  “Great,” I said with a resigned tone.

  “Don’t you dare come out without eating something.” Janie looked at me and narrowed her eyes fiercely.

  I must have looked like road kill for her to be so obviously maternal.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t think I would get too far if I didn’t,” I replied.

  “And you better take care of that leg. It looks like you got snake bit,” she threw over her shoulder as she bustled out.

  I looked down at my leg and realized it had a deep cut that really hurt. I must have sliced it on a tent spike when I was running around last night. It was a common wound at the carney. Once we found Amanda, I’d get Doc to stitch it. The shower’s lukewarm running water not only cleaned my body, it rinsed away the residual magical energy I’d accumulated during last night’s activities. The old wives’ tale about running water saving you from fell creatures is true. Water dampens the flow of magical energies. Maybe if everyone lived in a shower, they would be safe, I thought ruefully.

  Scrubbing the mud out of my hair gave me time to think. The only reason there could have been so many screamers in one place was if someone had called them to this world from the Outlands. The question was who would be stupid enough to do that. Could it have been the Fairy I felt? Why would a Fairy want to attack the carnival?

  When I got out of the show
er, Janie was gone, but she had left toast, fried eggs, and blessed coffee. I ate while I pulled on my most comfortable cargo shorts and a hot pink tank top. I did a quick check of a reference book that described screamers. I found a couple spells people could use to call them over to this side. The power needed to call twenty screamers was more than most practitioners could handle, unless they had a full Coven. There was no reason a Coven would attack the carnival, or a county fair for that matter. Who could have called those creatures?

  Not more than a half hour later, feeling distinctly more human, I was on my way to check my tent. I put aside questions I couldn’t answer and assessed the damage to the show. A few of the lighter stands had blown over, and soggy stuffed animals were going into trash bins.

  Zach the crow greeted me with his raspy hell’o from the peak of my tent. Zach only spoke one word, and he only said it when he first saw you, as if he knew what the word really meant. The tent had lost one of its banner cloths. Someone had rolled it and stashed it inside. Mom had painted the sign. I sure hoped it wasn’t damaged too badly. I didn’t take time to check. I scooped up the crystal ball from my table and put it in its protective, silk-lined rucksack.

  Mister D met me as I was heading for Tom’s trailer. He looked me up and down.

  “How much trouble are we in,” I asked.

  “Enough,” he said. “The guard told the cops you were first in the barn. They want to talk to you. I can divert them if you need time.”

  “Nah, I can take the heat. I’ll just tell them I fought off monsters from another dimension using witchcraft. They’ll understand.”

  “I’ll send Eddy over to give you the story.” He strode off without another word.

  My police interview was short and sweet. I kept my shoulders back to distract the chubby bald cop with my padded, double D attributes. I stuck to the party line, smiled a lot. Made all the right noises about how terrible the whole thing was. “Officer, I swear I’ll remember how terrible it was the rest of my life.” I even shed a tear or two. I should have been an actress.

  “Can I have your name for the report, ma’am?” The cop had to weigh three hundred pounds.

  “Donna Kerr,” I replied. I learned young; never give your real name to the constabulary. I was about to tell him Donna was spelled with an “i” instead of an “a”, when Eddy gave me a look and said, “BC” under his breath. I took the hint and stopped. Eddy quickly herded the cop off to talk to the next witness. I don’t know why he wanted me to be cool. The fat, sweaty cop wasn’t ever going to figure out a donniker was an outhouse.

  There was no way they could pin the damage to the fairgrounds on the carnival. Then again, who was I kidding? Locals can always find a way to blame something on the Carnies. Maybe the whole situation was worse than I thought.

  Where was Amanda?

  I was nearly to his trailer when I saw Tom. His shoulders were slumped and his hair tousled out of its usual, tidy comb over.

  “I had to talk to the townie cops before I came looking for you,” I said, feeling I’d let Tom down by not going directly to him.

  “Don’t worry about it. Janie told me you wanted this,” he said, handing me the heirloom cloisonné comb I knew Amanda treasured. “Anything you can do would be great. I’m out of options. Its not like Amanda to…” he trailed off. He looked off into the distance, as if he could pierce some veil and see his Amanda. Carnies weren’t usually very romantic, so when a couple had the kind of relationship he and Amanda had, it was extraordinary. Tom’s eyes were haunted when they turned back to me. I wondered if I would ever have anyone worry for me like that.

  “I’ll do everything I can,” I said, feeling inadequate. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I know something.”

  Back in my trailer, I sucked on sugar candy while I set up a spell designed to have the comb seek its mistress. A hair from a mare’s tail held the comb, so it could move. It would pull in Amanda’s direction once I cast the spell. I made a potion of oils, included a homing pigeon feather, and a hair from a bloodhound. At least I think it was a homing pigeon and a bloodhound. With spells like this, it is the intention that’s important, not the stuff. I dipped the comb straight into the potion on its hair tether. I cleared my mind then filled it with images of Amanda and muttered the incantation. As I pulled the comb from the potion, it began to swing like a pendulum. Then, it began to swing and spin. It should have settled on one direction in moments.

  “Bell, book, and candle,” I muttered. I try not to swear with actual curses. It is a hard habit to break. You have to be careful saying anything resembling a curse when you were casting. Things can escalate rapidly if you were careless.

  “Where are you, Amanda?” The comb should be pointing in Amanda’s direction, leading me to her. I could have followed it even if she were a hundred miles away. This swinging and spinning could only mean… “Oh Amanda, no,” I felt tears spring to my eyes. If the comb would not show her direction, she wasn’t in this world.

  I put the comb down and consulted the crystal ball. No insight from any dead relatives was forthcoming. Actually, I was surprised Grammy had shown up last night. In the three years since she had died, I had only seen her once—the night she came to shock me out of the depression I’d gone into when she disappeared. Since we hadn’t found her body, it was how she let me know she was dead.

  I drew a protective circle with salt on the table around the crystal ball, just in case something nasty tried to get out while I was feeding energy to it in my search for Amanda. Protective circles work both ways. They can keep the preternatural from getting to you if you were inside. Conversely, if you need to talk to a creature from the Outlands, or the dimensions of death, the circle will trap wild energies inside where one could control them. Spirits who came seeking me while my ball was in my tent had no power to escape unless I gave them energy.

  This seeking was different. I would be pouring power into the ball, and it would shine like a beacon in Shakespeare’s undiscovered country. All sorts of beings, both good and bad, would be attracted to it. Some could try to use the ball as a portal and escape into this dimension. I had enough problems without populating this area with discorporate spirits…or worse.

  From outside the circle, I held my hand up and used a bit of my focused will in a search spell, while holding Amanda’s comb and concentrating on her. If she had died, her image would pop up, even if she were not coherent enough to talk through the ball’s portal.

  Nothing happened. I was probably too upset to cast the spell properly. I got up and walked around, breathing deeply. I would not let myself think about the pain of telling Tom that Amanda was dead. Quit thinking about it, Airy…focus. I did some cleansing breaths. I felt calm falling over me like a shroud.

  Shit, bad imagery. More breaths, calm like a warm mist of Lethe covering me, hiding my concerns with blankness. I sat with my hands toward the circle as though I were warming them at a fire. I cast for Amanda. Nothing. Not even a flicker. After several minutes, a woman who looked older than Amanda faded into view. The curve of the ball slightly distorted her face. Laugh lines twinkled the corners of her wide, hazel eyes. She had Amanda’s eyes.

  “Why are you calling my daughter?” the woman asked in a sweet, contralto voice.

  “She is missing, and I can’t find her in this world,” I replied, keeping my voice low and calm. I hoped this was actually Amanda’s mom and not some demented spirit just messing with me because it could.

  “Amanda is not in this place. I would have greeted my daughter if she had crossed over.” The woman tilted her head as if listening. “She is not near.”

  “How do I know you are Amanda’s mother?” I asked gently, with no hint of challenge to frighten her away. Disturbed spirits tend to be flighty and easily distracted.

  She looked up and to the left, a sign of telling the truth in a living person. It probably meant nothing in the dead. “The comb you hold belonged to my mother,” she said.

  Okay, definite
ly Amanda’s mom then. “Where is your daughter? She is not in this world and not in the next. Can you tell me where she is? We miss her and want to see her,” I said. You always had to give spirits a good reason for providing information. If they didn’t have something they could relate to and focus on, they could lose the thread of what you asked before they could form an answer. It must be a bitch having no mouth, no brain, and only your force of will to allow you to communicate.

  “She is…” The woman’s eyes closed and her head tilted slightly to the right.

  “Where is Amanda?” I prompted.

  “She is with her father…” Her lips remained parted, her eyes opened, and she started to fade.

  “Where is her father?” I had to concentrate to keep my voice level and my tone calm. I had my obvious emotions in check, but I could feel my pulse increasing.

  Only her eyes, so like Amanda’s eyes, remained. The voice was a whisper. “He was so beautiful. We danced beyond the way.” Then, she was gone.

  I sat back, withdrawing my energy from the crystal ball. I automatically broke the salt circle and threw a pinch over my shoulder. Bells, books, and big fat candles…danced beyond the way. Amanda’s father was a Fairy! Seducing humans amused some fairies. Apparently, Amanda’s mom had taken a fairy lover. Amanda was a human fairy hybrid. I never had a hint of fairy from her. I bet she didn’t even know about her otherworldly origins.

  I re-dipped the comb in the seeking potion, muttered the search spell, and the comb began to spin again like a broken occult pendulum. Focusing carefully, I opened the narrowest of doorways into the Outlands. It was no more than six inches high. The comb on its mare’s tail hair immediately, urgently began to pull toward the way.