April's Fool

by Robbie Cox

  Chester turned his gaze away from the man as he lifted his glass to his lips, taking a larger swallow this time.

  “Ah, good to see everyone enjoying this beautiful night,” Samuel said as he reached the others, sliding his hands into the pockets of his expensive gray slacks. “All is going well, then?” He looked around at the other four men, a plastic smile pushing up his cheeks.

  “Why are you here, Samuel?” Wyatt asked, glaring at the stick-figure in front of him.

  Samuel’s eyes went wide at the vehemence in Wyatt’s tone. “I just wanted to see if your grandfather has had time to consider my latest offer.”

  Chester shrugged. “I told you my answer when you made the offer. The circus is not for sale. You wasted a trip.” He then turned to stare at Samuel. “But, that never stopped you from making the trip before. I don’t care what you offer or how many times you offer it, I’m not selling. This circus has been in my family for decades, and when I retire or pass from this life to the next, Wyatt will inherit it. So, you see, it’s in good hands.”

  Wyatt squirmed in his seat a little, a twisting in his gut. He always knew he would inherit the circus one day, especially after his father’s tragic death, but hearing his grandfather talk of his own demise so casually unnerved him.

  Patrick stood there, his arms over his chest as he glared at the unwelcomed newcomer. Hodges, however, shot Chester a puzzled look, his brows pinched over his nose. “Shouldn’t Wyatt have a say in this then, if he will inherit the circus one day?”

  Chester shrugged. “When he owns it, he can have a say in it. Until then, the decision is mine, and I’ve made it.”

  “I wouldn’t be interested in selling it, either,” Wyatt added with a tilt of his head. “So, really, you’ll waste your time in the future as well.”

  The wind kicked up as a howling noise thrummed throughout the camp. Everyone stood, staring around them at the sudden change in weather, but Wyatt noticed it was only in the camp that the disturbance occurred. As he sat there, he could hear the voices on the wind, whispering in his ear for caution.

  Wyatt glanced over at his grandfather, a puzzled expression pinching his brows.

  Chester stared at him. “The phantoms,” was all Wyatt’s grandfather said.

  Five

  April sat in a corner booth at Thirst Bar with Reina, sipping a margarita as she shared her dilemma with her friend. Ever since she spotted the man from last night with the circus people who came into town, a battle waged within her as to whether to warn him in English of the death of a loved one as opposed to the keening of the banshee that scared a few years of his life away. As far as she knew, no banshee ever came face-to-face with the object of one of their warnings. Would it break some banshee code or rule if she told the man? Would there be consequences? The truth was, she didn’t know; the subject never really came up, and it wasn’t like there was a Banshee Employee Handbook.

  “I don’t know, to be honest,” Reina said as she tucked a stray strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “I’ve never heard it done before.” She turned to the makeshift stage Jackson Lantern, owner of Thirst, had set up for dancing and karaoke nights. “Do you think the ogres will sing tonight? I missed them last time.” She turned back to April. “I love how they try to do little dance routines with their numbers.” She giggled as she reached for her rum runner.

  April shook her head, laughing softly. “You’re not helping me with my problem.”

  “But do you really have a problem?” Reina shrugged. “You delivered the message as the Powers That Be required of you. You can’t do anything to change what’ll happen. Whoever you saw die is still destined to die.”

  April felt her brows pinch over her nose. “Why is it done that way?” she asked. “Why do we tell the relative of the person about to die, instead of the person actually dying? Wouldn’t you think it would be the other way around?”

  Reina waved off April’s idea. “You’ve got a person on the verge of death, maybe a heart attack or stroke, and a banshee shows up to warn him. I think that alone would send them to the great beyond.” She shook her head. “No, I think doing it the way we do is the best course of action.”

  April took a sip of her drink, licking her lips when she finished. “But what good does it do if they can’t understand us?”

  Reina chuckled slightly. “Hey, I don’t write this shit; I just follow it.” She took another drink of her rum runner as she sat back in her seat. “As for what happens if you tell the man with the circus, I couldn’t tell you. Whoever made this shit up didn’t really go into great details or think it all the way through.” She shrugged. “Maybe just tell him and see what happens. At least then, he’ll know who he’s about to lose.”

  “And if there are consequences?”

  Reina shrugged again. “Then I guess you deal with them.” She set her drink back on the table. “Personally, I think you should just drop it. It won’t change anything. It might make it worse, even. What’s the point?”

  April stared down into her drink. The point? She took a deep breath. The point was, she’d finally be able to see someone react without fear to her warning, instead of screaming in fear as they tried to shove themselves into the wall or their bed or whatever was nearby. The point was, she could be a comfort and not a fright. She was tired of being a fright, tired of scaring people, instead of helping them. All she ever wanted to do was help people. Besides, the man hadn’t exactly been bad on the eyes. Telling him would give her the chance to get closer to him, see what he was like when she wasn’t scaring the hell out of him.

  “Hey!” Reina snapped as she waved her hand in front of April’s face. “Earth to April; come in April.”

  April shook the fog from her brain as she shifted in her seat. “Sorry. What?”

  Reina laughed, shaking her head. “Where the hell did you go?”

  April felt the blush warm her cheeks. “Just thinking of how all we ever do is scare people. It would be nice to bring some honest comfort to someone finally.”

  Reina smiled over at her. “Then I guess you have your answer as to what you should do. Go talk to him. It’s not like he won’t understand the concept once you explain it to him. He is part of a paranormal circus after all. I hear all their animals are really shifters, so I’m not really that impressed with their shows anymore.”

  April said nothing as she glanced over at the bar a moment, Piper fixing someone a drink. Professor Compton’s Phantom Circus traveled all over the U.S., bringing laughter and joy to people wherever they went. It was true the circus wasn’t made up of humans, the ringmaster a korrigan, if April remembered correctly. If the animals were shifters, it wouldn’t surprise her. She was sure the whole circus held an assortment of paranormal creatures. Pretty smart really. The audience would think everything was done with smoke and mirrors when, in reality, they were mere supernatural beings with extraordinary powers and abilities. Walking on a tightrope would be nothing to them.

  April shoved her problem to the back of her mind for now, surrendering to Reina’s desire to hit the dance floor. However, the battle that waged within her never truly left.

  Once they finished the Electric Slide, April stepped up to the bar, leaning on it with her forearms, hands clasped in front of her. Reina continued to dance as Lady Gaga blared from the speakers, Jackson surrendering to the call for dance music on the weekends. April couldn’t continue anymore, however; so Nunk and Ruck, the ogres from Ogre Security at the bank, slid up to Reina and started to dance with the banshee. At least, April thought they were dancing. If not, then Jackson needed to kick the giant boulder-like ogres out for indecent activity.

  “Rough night?” Piper asked as she stepped in front of April. “I watched you dancing; you seemed as if you weren’t really into it.”

  April could still feel her heart pounding from the exertion, sweat on her brow as she slid onto a stool. “When Reina wants to dance, there’s really no being left behind no matter how much you wave off her pleas
.” She shrugged. “So, I save my breath and just dance.” She then winked at the redheaded bartender. “Then, when Reina gets wound up, I make my escape.”

  Both ladies laughed before April ordered another margarita. “Where’s Jackson?” April asked as Piper made her drink. “I’ve never known him to miss a Saturday night.”

  Piper continued mixing April’s margarita. “Since Meredith and he started dating, he’s taken more and more nights off.” She finished making the drink and set it in front of April. “Can’t say I blame him. If I had someone, I’d want weekends off as well.”

  April grinned over at her. “Part of why I became a teacher. That and helping kids, of course.”

  Piper laughed. “Of course.” She tapped the bar in front of April, chuckling as she walked off to take care of the satyr who sat down at the end of the bar.

  April picked up her drink, spinning on her stool as she faced the rest of the Saturday crowd who filled the bar, her mind drifting back to the man she hovered over last night. She would never get the look of fear on his face out of her mind, the total fright that twisted his features, the way his eyes widened, his lips twisted as he screamed.

  She felt a smile curve up her lips. The man she saw last night was a far cry from the man she saw earlier today. That man was enough to take her breath away, his dark hair, firm shoulders, sparkling smile. He seemed confident, in control of himself. She lifted her glass, taking a slow first sip, the salt on the rim a delicious bite right before the drink hit her lips. As she felt the tangy cold liquid slide down her throat, she wondered what his eyes looked like when he wasn’t afraid. Lowering the glass to the bar, she knew she wanted to find out.

  Tomorrow, she was going to the circus.

  Six

  Wyatt stood in the gazebo, staring out at the gathering crowd. Already, the greasy aromas from the food trucks drifted across the grounds, a mixture of funnel cakes, corn dogs, popcorn, and candied apples, all enticing people to come join in the festivities. Organ music blared through the speakers Patrick’s crew set up around the roundabout’s perimeter as children raced back and forth between the sideshows, game booths, and rides, their parents shaking their heads as they attempted to keep up with their rambunctious offspring. It was an impossible endeavor, but one that left the parents smiling instead of frustrated.

  “The first day is always the best,” Wyatt’s grandfather said as he stepped up beside his grandson, twirling a black top hat with a bright purple band in his hand. “Nothing matches the first rush of excitement when the people rush through the gates and onto the grounds of the circus.” He took a deep breath, as if inhaling the euphoria of the people swarming over the grass of the roundabout. Slipping the top hat onto his gray hair, he grinned over at Wyatt. “This is what keeps me young,” he said with a bounce of his bushy eyebrows, his cheeks red with the merriment that filled him.

  Wyatt laughed as he shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure you’ve ever been old,” he said as he glanced down at his grandfather. Korrigans were small dwarf-like beings, but since Wyatt was only half korrigan, his mother being human, he had grown to a more normal height. His grandfather never held it against him, however. Of course, korrigans were also shapeshifters, so if Chester wanted to match his grandson’s size, he could just morph into something or someone else. He rarely did, however, feeling his natural size added to the flare of his role as ringmaster of the circus.

  Several various paranormal beings comprised Professor Compton’s Phantom Circus. There were several korrigans, most related to Wyatt in one way or another. The strongman was actually a troll they kept shaved, and the acrobats were elves with amazing dexterity. The mermaid in the dunking booth was really a mermaid, and the fire-breather was a dragon who only used his magic to breathe fire. A witch ran the fortuneteller booth while a variety of beings made up the clowns, including Wyatt who couldn’t fully transform, like his grandfather. All he could manage, since he was only half korrigan, was to alter physical appearance, like facial features, hair color, size of his hands and feet, even skin color. He just couldn’t transform into other objects or animals like other full-blooded korrigans. The animal acts were shifters, so there was no real trainer needed, which actually added to the mystery of the acts. Still, that didn’t stop the animal rights people from protesting wherever the circus went. Wyatt wanted to send the shifters after the protesters at times, but his grandfather forbade the drastic tactic. It still would be funny, Wyatt thought.

  The main attraction to the circus, however, were the phantoms no one saw. Phantoms aren’t ghosts; at least, not in the true sense. Ghosts were sometimes visible and could communicate with the living. They possessed a physical reality of sorts, able to move objects and make a nuisance of themselves. Phantoms, on the other hand, could be heard and sensed without ever being truly felt. People knew something was there, but had no idea what had just raised the hackles on the back of their necks. The phantoms gave the circus an otherworldly feel, making it seem almost haunted at times. They whispered in people’s ears, warning of frights unseen, flitting around the crowd, bringing a chill to the bones. They were great at adding suspense during a high-wire act or an act on the rings without a net. And they never used nets. What was the point when griffins watched from the tent poles, ready to swoop down and rescue a falling act if something went wrong?

  Chester chuckled as he slapped his grandson on the back. “Age is merely a number, Wyatt. You’re only as old as you feel, and today, I feel like I’m in my twenties.”

  A capuchin monkey skittered across the ground, approaching them as he pointed behind them. How the hell did that lawyer get into Black Hollow? he asked with the mindspeech of the shifters, another asset when it came to their acts.

  Wyatt and Chester glanced behind them, noticing Samuel crossing the grounds, taking in everything happening around them, “I really wish I knew,” Chester said with a shake of his head. “I should talk to Seraphine about the spell around this town. I hoped for at least one week without that annoying putz.” He then turned to the monkey, sighing. “Find Patrick and have him set up extra guards over the office. I don’t want that damn lawyer getting inside and snooping at our books. And make sure Samuel stays away from Hodges.” He sighed. “Hodges will feed him information like candy, the weasel.”

  You got it, the monkey, Barnabas Stillwell, said as he scampered off to carry out Chester’s orders.

  “What is he doing?” Wyatt asked as he stared at Samuel, who constantly seemed to jot stuff down in a small notebook.

  Chester gave a snort of derision. “Probably taking inventory, the snake. He’s wasting his time. And paper. I’m not selling.”

  “What made him think you’d sell the circus in the first place? I mean, something had to set him on your trail.”

  Chester stood there, glaring at the lawyer. “The time for circuses is dying,” he said with a sad sigh, his shoulders slumped. He shook his head. “Some of the family think I should sell while we still can. Get the money and run.” He turned to Wyatt, his lips pressed into a grim line. “Of course, they also think since they’re family, I should split the proceeds of the sale with them. They want their payout before they lose the opportunity.”

  Wyatt stared at his grandfather. “Hodges.”

  Chester nodded. “Among others.” He shook his head. “They see the fat check, but not the consequences. What happens to all the people here if I sell? What happens to the phantoms? This isn’t just a business, Wyatt; it’s a family. They’re wanting me to kick my family to the curb. I won’t do it.” He sighed again as he straightened his hat on top of his head. “I need to get ready for the first show. I’ll see you inside.” He patted Wyatt’s arm as he stepped away, heading for the big top.

  Wyatt watched as his grandfather walked off, his heart aching for the older man. This circus was his grandfather’s life. Wyatt couldn’t see the elderly man doing anything else. Why couldn’t the rest of the family see that as well?

>   Slipping his hands into his pockets, Wyatt glanced around the grounds, taking in the excitement and curiosity on each person’s face, the wonder that drove the kids from one booth to the next. He could hear the phantoms whispering in the Sunday morning breeze, could feel them flitting around the patrons, urging them to wonder what brushed against them. Wyatt found it funny that the paranormal town loved the circus just as much as the human world did, knowing its secrets for the most part. There was magic in a circus, and the citizens of Black Hollow surrendered to that magic with an abandon. It was that magic that brought a smile to Wyatt’s face as he watched a tall redhead enter the grounds across the street from Hell’s Brew Coffeehouse. A dark-haired lady walked with her, but the redhead kept his attention with the way her hips swayed as she walked, the smile that brightened her cheeks as she laughed at something her friend said, the way her top hugged her ample breasts. She seemed to absorb everything around her, bouncing her gaze from one booth to the next, searching the carnie workers…

  Wyatt paused, his brows pinched over his nose as he tilted his head. The redhead searched for someone in particular, it seemed to him. He could now see the smile she gave her friend seemed forced, keeping her friend from knowing… What?

  Then the redhead saw him, her eyes widening for a brief second before she looked past him, picking up her pace as she walked, almost leaving her friend behind.