April's Fool

by Robbie Cox

  He glanced up at the top of the tent where two of Randall’s griffins already perched, scanning the crowd with their dark eyes. The phantoms moaned around the edges of the tent, stirring the crowd into an eerie anticipation of what was coming. The wind stirred, picking up the dust, swirling the blades of grass, grabbing people’s jackets and collars, twirling their hair. The people huddled in on themselves, feeling the presence of the phantoms without actually seeing them. The show was about to start.

  “Shouldn’t you be with Chuckles and the others?” his grandfather’s voice came from beside him.

  Wyatt turned, taking in the older man’s jovial smile, his chubby red cheeks, and sparkling red eyes, his top hat crooked on his thick head of gray hair. Wyatt grinned as he took a deep breath, nodding. “I was just looking for Randall. Have you seen him?”

  His grandfather shook his head. “Nope, but I’m sure he’s here someplace.” He glanced around the wall that blocked the crowd from seeing the acts before they entered the main area, his grin growing wider. “Look at that crowd. God, but I love the enthusiasm that fills this place before each show.” He turned to Wyatt, the older man’s grin still stretching his face. “Don’t you just love it?”

  Wyatt sighed. He’d love it a lot more if he didn’t know someone was out there trying to kill his grandfather. “Why don’t you let someone else do the ringmaster job this time?” he asked, hoping to keep his grandfather out of the ring at least once. “You’re doing what? Five? Seven shows a day?”

  Chester arched his brows at Wyatt. “You’re beginning to sound just like Hodges now. You think I’m too old for this?”

  Wyatt chuckled, shaking his head. “Not at all.” He shrugged. “I just worry about you is all.”

  His grandfather reached out and squeezed Wyatt’s arm. “Nothing to worry about here. I’ll be doing this for decades to come.” He slapped Wyatt on the back and then moved out to the center ring, swishing his top hat off his head and waving it in the air. “Ladies and Gentlemen!”

  Wyatt just watched as his grandfather stepped out into the ring to the cheers of the crowd, the phantoms swirling around him in a loud roar. Wyatt stood there, watching. Could he bring the phantoms in to protect Chester? Wyatt cocked his head, his eyes sliding to narrow slits. Or could they be the ones trying to kill the ringmaster?

  Eleven

  April slid into Hell’s Brew more than eager for her morning latte. She needed it after the restless night she spent in bed. She couldn’t get the look on Wyatt’s face out of her mind when Misha told him she wouldn’t help him save his grandfather. While April understood the reaper’s reasoning, she couldn’t help but wonder if in this case Misha might not have made an exception. After all, April had already told Wyatt what her keening was about, so why not help the man out?

  April sighed as she stepped up to the counter. She still wanted to help Wyatt, but just didn’t know how.

  “What will it be?” Shelby asked as she tucked a strand of her strawberry-blond hair behind her ear. “And why so glum? School’s out for a week. I thought you’d be ecstatic.”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” April said with another sigh. Then she perked up a little, realizing who stood in front of her. “Shelby, do demons know when someone will die?”

  The other woman’s brows pinched over her nose. “Like a premonition or something?” She shook her head. “Nah, we just take care of them once they arrive in hell. Or at least, I did when I worked down there, but King made sure that wasn’t my life anymore.” She glanced around the coffee shop, her lips pressed into a grim line. “Of course, working here on a Monday is almost as bad.”

  April’s shoulders slumped as she felt hope slip away from her. She thought for sure a demon from Hell would have an answer for her. “Thanks,” she said, feeling defeated. “I’ll just take the java chocolate chip frappe.”

  Shelby nodded as she wrote down April’s order. “You know,” she said as she scribbled away. “You could always ask Meredith. She was the harbinger of death before she became a waitress over at Fireside Grille.” She shrugged as she turned to fix April’s drink. “If anyone would know when someone was about to die, it would be the one meant to bring them to Hell.”

  “What if the person wasn’t meant for Hell?” April asked, leaning on the counter, her hands clasped in front of her. “Who would know then?”

  “Still her, I would guess,” Shelby answered as she poured the mixture into a plastic cup. “They just take the soul to their destination.” The blender whirled for a moment as Shelby pressed the lid down tight. “At least, it’s worth a shot to ask.”

  April nodded. Shelby was right; it wouldn’t hurt to ask. She’d head over there next. Hopefully, Meredith worked today.

  Shelby handed April her drink, and April handed the woman a five as April turned around, drink in hand.

  Sliding into a seat facing out at the street, April stared out the window as the Monday morning came to life. The circus woke up as rides kicked on, lights flashed, and those kids enjoying spring break trickled through the admissions gate, ready for another day of adventure and thrills. Thrills was one thing April could do without. She preferred a sedentary life, quiet and predictable; predictable, that is, except for when the Powers That Be called her to deliver the frightening warning of a loved one’s impending death. She would give anything to have that calling on her life over. Meredith was lucky; the woman managed to finagle a deal from Lucifer himself to avoid her grim future and live the life she dreamt of living. April smiled as she recalled how the entire town came together—even King, Lucifer’s brother—to thwart Lucifer in his selfish plan to steal Seraphine as his beloved. Jackson had pulled off the ultimate trick, keeping the demon in Black Hollow and forever banishing Satan from causing anymore havoc in the paranormal community. April sighed, wishing she had a trick like that up her sleeve to free her from the horrifying keening she was forced to deliver to the dying’s family. It left her drained, now more than ever.

  April glanced over as the door to Hell’s Brew swished open, noticing Brandie Underwood entering the coffee shop. April felt her brows pop up as an answer to her problem floated around in her head. More than knowing the time of Wyatt’s grandfather’s future death, they needed to know who intended on killing the man. Who better to discover that than a private investigator? Of course, when Brandie discovered who intended to steal the gold from End of the Rainbow Savings & Trust, she didn’t so much catch the thief as get herself shrunk until she was practically invisible. Her sister, Kerry, had to come to the rescue. Perhaps I should go to Kerry, instead.

  But Kerry wasn’t there; Brandie was.

  April shoved herself out of her seat and walked over to where Brandie stood at the counter. “Your order’s on me if I can have ten minutes of your time,” April offered, already pulling more money out of her purse.

  Brandie cocked a dark blond brow at April, her lips pressed into a thin line. “All right. I have a few minutes to spare. Not a lot of detective work in this town.” She chuckled as she shook her head. “I didn’t exactly think it all the way through when I decided to move here.” She then turned and placed her order, asking Shelby to bring it to April’s table when it was ready.

  April paid for the coffee and cheese danish, her own stomach growling at the sight, and then led Brandie over to her table by the window. “I need to find a murderer,” she said without preamble as they both slid into their seats. “I’m hoping you can help me out.”

  “A murderer?” Brandie repeated. “Here? In Black Hollow? Are you sure? Who was killed? I’m sure in a town this size, I would have heard if someone had been murdered. Shouldn’t you be talking to Sebastian about this, instead of me?”

  April waited for the deluge of questions to cease before she attempted to answer them. “Well, that’s sort of my problem,” she said, taking a deep breath. “The murder hasn’t exactly happened yet.”

  Brandie cocked an eyebrow at the other woman again. “You know a murde
r will happen, but you don’t know who will commit it? Who’s being murdered?”

  April leaned forward, wrapping her hands around her frappe. “Chester Compton, the ringmaster of the circus. Someone already killed his son in another town, but made it look like an accident. Wyatt, Chester’s grandson, may be next, and he doesn’t even realize it.” That was something April had pieced together last night as she tossed and turned. If whoever wanted Chester out of the way to sell the circus was determined to kill for it to happen, then they would have to take Wyatt out of the picture as well. Unless, of course, Wyatt was the killer, but April refused to even consider such a thing, not with the way Wyatt reacted when he discovered what April tried to warn him about and after Misha’s refusal to help. Wyatt also didn’t seem the killer family-betrayer type. “I need to find out who wants Chester dead before they succeed.”

  Brandie’s brows pinched with her confusion. “How do you know the one man’s death wasn’t an accident and that Chester is next? It’s not like a murderer to leave a note with his intentions lying around.”

  April sucked in a breath. “I’m a banshee,” she told the detective. “Part of my calling is to warn loved ones of a family member’s impending death. I saw Chester die. I know it’ll happen; I just don’t know when. I need to find out who’s behind it before it happens.”

  “I take it you didn’t see who did it, or you wouldn’t be here asking me for help,” Brandie said as she stared out the front window at the circus across the street.

  April could tell the other woman mulled over the options, whether it was a case she could in good conscience take on and do justice or whether it was over her head. At least, that’s what April hoped the other woman thought as she stared off. April didn’t need false hope or to have her time wasted. She needed answers and needed them quick.

  After a while, Brandie nodded as she turned her attention back to April. “All right,” she said. “I’ll look into it, but I’ll need to talk to your friend—what’s his name? Wyatt?—and he or you will need to sign some papers. In the meantime, I’ll get Kerry started on running background checks on the people attached to the circus. Anything you can tell me to help me get started in the right direction?”

  April took a slow sip of her drink as she thought back to everything she saw during her vision and what Wyatt told her when she spoke to him yesterday. “The vision took place in the center ring of the circus.” She then told the detective about what she saw, the blood on Chester’s lips, the sudden death of a murder or accident versus the slow death of natural causes. “So, that told me it wasn’t a heart attack or cancer or something else. Wyatt also told me someone wants to buy the circus, and some of his family want Chester to sell so they don’t miss out on a payday. Apparently, circuses are a dying attraction these days.”

  Brandie nodded. “I can see that with all the animal rights people. Few people see it as a humane form of entertainment.”

  “I don’t see murder as the answer, though” April said, shaking her head.

  “We’ll figure it out,” Brandie assured her, reaching out and squeezing her hand. “Now, can you take me to this friend of yours? What does he do at the circus?”

  April felt her lips curl up. “He’s a fool,” she said with a slight giggle. “Always clowning around.”

  Both of Brandie’s eyebrows rose. “A clown? Really?” She visibly shivered as she settled back in her chair. “Great. Just fucking great. I hate clowns.”

  April smiled, but said nothing. She found this clown pretty damn attractive.

  Twelve

  Wyatt rounded the corner of the funnel cake truck, two steaming coffees in his hand, one for him and one for his grandfather. Wyatt realized the one mistake he made with his grandfather was not telling him the truth of why Wyatt wanted him to allow someone else to serve as ringmaster for a while, at least until they found out who wanted his grandfather dead. It wasn’t like Wyatt wanted Chester to step down permanently. That in and of itself would kill Wyatt’s grandfather. Of course, with the difficulty Wyatt had convincing Randall about the danger to Chester, Wyatt highly doubted his grandfather would be any easier to convince. Why the hell did paranormal beings find it so hard to believe in other paranormal beings and their powers?

  Wyatt circled to the back of the circus, the area where the customers were forbidden to roam, the section that held all the secrets that permitted the circus to offer that air of mystery the people came to expect. He needed to sit down with his grandfather and convince him to relinquish control of the circus just for a little while. Somehow, Wyatt needed to...

  “Hey, coffee!”

  Wyatt spun as a giant of a man shrunk down to the size of a man under four-feet, his features filling out into the portly attributes of a korrigan, his red cheeks and sparkling red eyes revealing the natural excitement of the smaller dwarf-like race, his dark hair swishing across his forehead and down into his eyes. “Sedwick,” Wyatt called out as hot coffee splashed over the rim of the cups and onto his hands. “What the hell, man? Don’t sneak up on people like that.”

  Sedwick just chuckled as he waggled his bushy eyebrows. “But that’s half the fun. Where are you off to in such a dazed rush?”

  Wyatt blew out the breath he held, trying to ease the tension in his body from his cousin’s fright. “I’m looking for our grandfather. Have you seen him?”

  Sedwick laughed even harder as he said, “Doing his best to avoid Hodges last I saw him. I swear, if Hodges isn’t chasing Gramps, it’s that insufferable lawyer. As much as they pester the old man, I’d sell the circus just to get rid of them if it was me.”

  Wyatt sighed, his shoulders drooping a little. “Yeah, they are a pain in the ass.” He cocked an eyebrow as he thought about what Sedwick just said “Hodges does seem pretty bent on getting Grandfather to sell, doesn’t he?”

  Sedwick nodded. “Almost as much as that lawyer. You’d think they’d both give up by now. Everyone knows Gramps will hold on to this circus with his cold dead hands, and even then, he’ll never let go.” He shook his head, slipping his hands into his pockets. “This circus is his life. Nothing short of death will get him to let go of it.”

  Wyatt nodded, but said nothing else about it. Sedwick was all too right, and apparently, someone thought the same thing which is why they attempted to kill his grandfather. But could it really be Hodges?

  Wyatt needed to talk to his grandfather. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he told Sedwick. “I need to get this coffee to Grandfather before he turns surly. You know how he is about his morning java fix.”

  Sedwick chuckled as he waved Wyatt off. “I get it; I get it. Go on, then, and get him his morning pick-me-up. I need to get back out and scare the kiddies.”

  Wyatt watched as his cousin shifted again, his body stretching and swelling as he took on a giant man with hairy arms and long, scraggly hair. Sedwick waggled his eyebrows at Wyatt as he leaned down, grinning at Wyatt. “Think this will do the trick?”

  Wyatt just laughed, nodding his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I think that’ll get them running and screaming into the funhouse.”

  Sedwick roared his laughter as he strutted away, his long legs making short work of the distance. Wyatt watched the other man, but it didn’t take long for Sedwick to dip behind the next tent and out of sight. The only way Wyatt knew which way his cousin went was by the screams of the kids. Wyatt snorted as he shook his head, continuing to make his way to wherever his grandfather hid. From thrills to chills to death-defying acts, Professor Compton’s Phantom Circus offered it all. Of course, some of those death-defying acts were a little too death-taking lately.

  Wyatt swallowed the lump of nerves in his throat as he picked up the pace. When he finally did find his grandfather, the shorter man was outside the office trailer, staring off into the distance at the kids running in all directions, a cigar dangling between two fingers. Wyatt breathed out a sigh of relief that his grandfather was all right. For now, anyway.

  “Here,” he said as he
reached Chester’s side. “I brought you a cup of coffee from that coffee shop across the street. Say what you want about demons, they can damn sure brew a kickass cup of coffee.” He slid into the seat beside his grandfather as Chester took the cardboard cup from him, staring at it with puckered brows. “You don’t like their coffee?” Wyatt asked.

  “Coffee’s fine,” Chester said. “It’s the damn cardboard cups I hate. Certain things belong in particular containers. Whiskey needs a glass, and coffee needs a ceramic mug.” He shook his head, his top lip turned up in disgust. “People should know stuff like that.”

  “You want me to get you a cup from the office?” Wyatt asked, giving his grandfather an odd look. It wasn’t that Wyatt didn’t know his grandfather’s preference for mugs over to-go cups; he just never heard Chester make that big of a deal about it before.

  “Nah,” Chester said as he pulled the top off the cup. “This is fine.” He leaned down to the cup, breathing in the dark aroma. “Smells good, anyway.” He glanced over at Wyatt, one eyebrow cocked. “What has you so pensive? You look like someone stole your pet rock or something.”

  “I need to tell you something, and I’m not sure whether you’ll believe me or not.” Wyatt removed the lip from his own cup, the steam curling out the top as soon as it was free. “The other night, I had a visitor.”

  His grandfather cocked his eyebrow at him. “Son, you’re a grown man. I don’t need to know about your trysts. To be honest, I prefer not to know.”

  “What?” Wyatt stared at his grandfather, confused. Then his eyes widened as realization dawned on him. “No, no, not that type of visitor.” He shook his head as he leaned back in his chair. “Actually, this one scared the hell out of me. It was a banshee, and all she did was scream at me as she hovered at the foot of the bed.” He shuddered at the memory. “I think I about pissed myself as I shot out of my bed. I couldn’t make out one word she keened at me, and eventually, she just left.”