April's Fool

by Robbie Cox

  “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” Chester said. “I know I shouldn’t have been on that ride, but I couldn’t risk anyone else. This is my circus.” He pulled Wyatt’s hand closer. “It’s your circus now.” Another coughing fit shook his body, and Wyatt held his grandfather tightly until it passed. When Chester turned back to face his grandson, tears streamed down the side of his face. “They won’t stop with me. Protect yourself, Wyatt. Don’t make my mistakes.”

  “You didn’t make any mistakes, Gramps,” Wyatt said.

  “Gramps!” Sedwick shoved himself through the crowd until he stood on the other side of Chester, tears already streaking his cheeks.

  Wyatt glanced at him, but only for a moment before he turned his attention back to his grandfather—to their grandfather. “Hold on, Gramps. We’ll get you through this. You just have to...”

  But it was already too late. Chester Compton was gone.

  The phantoms wailed, whirling around the camp, flames bursting from the firepits, tents flapping, trailers rocking. People huddled in on themselves as the harsh wind of the phantoms rushed among them, pulling at shirts and skirts, pulling the wails from everyone’s throats and filling the night sky.

  The circus folk around them broke down in tears, hugging each other, grieving their ringmaster. The doctor stood, giving Wyatt a weak smile of condolence as he backed away, leaving the circus people to their grief. Wyatt fell to his knees, clutching his grandfather’s hand as Sedwick held the other, both sobbing as they held onto their grandfather. Wyatt felt April’s hands on his shoulders, her strength pouring into him as she stood there, ready for whatever he wanted.

  As Wyatt glanced up, he watched as all the circus people dropped to one knee, their hands either touching Chester Compton, or touching the person in front of them, each forming a chain of sorts connecting everyone to the ringmaster of Professor Compton’s Phantom Circus. The phantoms wailed louder, but they were joined by another, a deeper, darker wail that filled the school’s parking lot.

  Wyatt glanced up as a hooded figure floated down from the dark night, a sickle held tightly in one hand as its robes floated around invisible legs. The creature—a grim reaper, Wyatt assumed—hovered over Chester’s body, pointing with its sickle. The reaper was quiet, but the phantoms made enough noise for everyone.

  A white glow floated from Chester’s body, and Wyatt glanced up to see his grandfather’s spirit hovering in the air with the reaper, a gift from the reaper to those gathered below. Tears flowed down Wyatt’s cheeks as he held his grandfather’s body, saying his goodbye as the reaper gripped Chester’s wrist, pulling him up into the darkness with him. Wyatt continued to watch until both faded from view, and then he collapsed on his grandfather’s chest, his body shaking from his sobs. Wyatt lost them all. His father. His mother. His grandfather. He was alone.

  All alone.

  Twenty-One

  April felt exhausted. The night seemed to have lasted forever as Deron replaced Dr. Larson, preparing the body of Chester Compton for travel to the mortuary. Police Chief Thayer arrived, taking notes and returning to the scene for his own investigation into what appeared to be an accident, but which April knew better. Much better. Someone had been determined to kill the ringmaster and had succeeded. She sighed as she ran a hand through her dark red hair, leaning her head back on the wall at Hell’s Brew, a steaming cup of the strongest coffee the coffeehouse offered clutched in her hands, the warmth battling the chill she felt inside.

  She remained at Wyatt’s side throughout the night, making sure he had everything he needed, making sure he drank water, rested, had a shoulder for his head for those moments when he lost control and the sobs wracked his chest. He managed to keep it together when the rest of the circus people were around, needing direction or their own shoulders on which to lean. Wyatt finally returned to his trailer and passed out, his emotions having drained him to the point of exhaustion. He hadn’t even changed clothes before sleep claimed him.

  April covered him with a blanket and locked the door behind her as she left. She had every intention of going home and getting what sleep she could, but as she passed by the roundabout, she noticed lights on at the ride area of the circus. Curiosity won out over exhaustion, and soon, April found herself walking through the grounds to where the lights brightened up the night sky. Voices drifted to her on the breeze as well as the clanging of metal.

  April slowed her pace, suddenly wondering if perhaps this wasn’t the brightest idea she had. What if whoever caused the ride to malfunction returned to cover their tracks? No one knew she was out here, so no one would know where to look if she suddenly turned up missing.

  She cocked her head a little as she continued walking, straining to make out the voices. If the person who set the trap had returned, then this could be her chance to catch them, or at the very least, discover who it was, so the others could catch them. She picked up her pace, her mind made up. The risk was worth it, if it would help her catch Chester’s killer and perhaps save Wyatt from being the next victim.

  As she neared the voices surrounding The Spinning Twirler, she thought she recognized Brandie’s voice, and was that…Seraphine? What the hell?

  April forgot caution as she stepped around one of the trees bordering the roundabout into the light. It was Seraphine. April stood there, staring, confused. Brandie was there as well, and her sister, Kerry, along with Sebastian, Patrick, and Hodges, all staring at the pieces of the carnival ride smashed into the side of the food truck. The car was a crumpled heap lying on its side, the undercarriage torn apart, wires exposed and wheels bent. The thing was a total wreck. There was no way anyone could have survived that, especially going as fast as it probably was. She stared at the wreckage, her mouth open slightly as she imagined the fear in Chester’s heart as the car went sailing across the circus.

  “April?”

  She turned, Brandie and Kerry walking over to her, the others close behind. “Did you guys find anything?” April asked as she moved over to join them.

  Brandie shook her head. “Not really. The place is a mess, pieces everywhere. We’ll need daylight to sort it all out.”

  “I’ll have my crew map it out in the morning,” Patrick said, his voice somber as he stared around at the parts on the ground. He scratched his head, blowing out a breath. “It doesn’t make sense. I go over these rides myself, checking and double checking. Everything was set, running perfectly. Nothing seemed worn or in need of repair, or I wouldn’t have allowed people to get on it. Chester was adamant about safety above profits.”

  Hodges stood there, wringing his hands together. “He never should have been on that ride in the first place.” He spun on Patrick. “You shouldn’t have let him test it himself.”

  Patrick opened his mouth to argue, but Seraphine put her hand on Hodges’ shoulder as she stepped between them. “I’ve known Chester for decades,” she said. “If he thought something was wrong with a ride, he never would have allowed anyone else to take the risk. It’s no one’s fault. Accidents happen.”

  April turned to the wreckage. “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t an accident,” she said, wrapping her arms around her waist. She glanced over at Patrick and Hodges. “Someone wanted Chester dead. They cut his brakes, they thought they had him when the tent pole broke…”

  “It didn’t break,” Patrick said, defensively. “It…” He sighed as he cast his gaze down to the ground. “It just fell apart.”

  “By telling Wyatt about his grandfather’s death, I screwed with the vision. We stopped him from dying the way I foresaw, but fate always finds a way to win in the end.”

  April narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you ever check your inventory of the parts? We know a support was missing from the tent the other day. Could something be missing here?”

  Patrick cocked his head as he stared at April. “Not with this, but I did with the support. It was still in the trailer with the surplus part pieces.” He shrugged. “But it doesn’t make sense. The tent s
houldn’t have been able to stand without that support. I need to track down who set up the tent and find out how they did it without the support.” He shook his head. “But I checked it out before the first show.” Now, he seemed to be talking to himself. “And that support was in place.” He jerked his attention to the others. “It was there. Connected.” He narrowed his eyes into slits as he concentrated. “So, how did it get back in the trailer? Who would have put it back?”

  Sebastian stared at the other man, his hands in his pockets. “Maybe they needed to get it out of the way, clean their prints off before someone tested it?”

  “The debris would have been the best place to hide it, allowing it to blend in with the rest of the broken timber,” Patrick said. “It makes no sense to put the support back. It only draws suspicion to it.”

  Seraphine moved, rubbing the chill out of her arms as she moved toward the edge of the circus grounds. “Well, I’ll leave you all to figure it out. I’m going back to the academy to be there for Wyatt when he wakes up. I owe his family a great deal. I won’t let him go through this alone.”

  April nodded, as did the others as she watched the ancient woman walk off. April felt like she needed to go with Seraphine, but she needed to find out what happened and who was behind it more. She could protect Wyatt better where she was. “What if they never put it back?” she asked. “What if it never left?”

  The others stared at her, some confused, some taking her question seriously.

  “How could it not have left the trailer if Patrick saw it attached to the center pole?” Hodges asked, shaking his head. “No, someone moved it. That has to be what happened.” He began to wring his hands again. “I can’t see Wyatt keeping the circus now; not after both his father and grandfather died here.” He blew out a breath. “That snake of a lawyer will get his purchase after all, damn it.”

  “What lawyer?” Brandie asked. “Someone wants to buy the circus? Why?”

  Patrick shrugged. “Circuses aren’t as popular these days as they once were. Some of the controlling family wanted Chester to sell before it became too bad, and they lost all chance of walking away with a profit. The old codger wouldn’t have it, however.” He chuckled. “It didn’t matter how many times Samuel came at him, Chester always turned him away, usually with some nasty retort to spur him on his way.”

  “Samuel’s the man who was at the first accident, right?” April asked, staring at the wreckage as she mulled over the possibilities.

  Patrick nodded, and she could see the anger reddening his face. “He was, the bastard. No respect for the dead. He tried right then to convince Chester to sell. The funny thing is, we can’t figure out how the man made it into Black Hollow.”

  Sebastian stopped poking around the wreckage and glanced up at the taller man. “Why wouldn’t he find our town? Any paranormal can feel the community’s presence.”

  Patrick nodded. “I know, but Samuel’s human; at least from everything we know about him, he’s human.”

  “Which isn’t much,” Hodges said. “All we know is he showed up a couple of months after Ingram left and before Wyatt’s father died, claiming an interested party wanted to purchase the circus. The offer wasn’t even that great, and every time he shows back up, he offers a lower price, instead of a higher one. He claims it’s because the popularity of the circus is fading.”

  “And with Wyatt’s father dying here, he claims the circus has an air of calamity about it,” Patrick added.

  “Who’s Ingram?” April asked, staring at Hodges, her head tilted.

  “Wyatt’s uncle,” the man answered. “Sedwick’s father. He never approved of our Samuel, Wyatt’s father, marrying a human and always called Wyatt a half-blood.”

  “The lawyer has the same name as Chester’s other son?” Kerry asked. “That had to be annoying.”

  Hodges nodded. “It was. Before Ingram left, he got into a fight with Chester after Wyatt’s mother died of cancer, claiming Chester spent more time with Wyatt than with Sedwick.” He shrugged. “He was right, of course, but the boy had just lost his mother. Ingram refused to stand by and watch Chester turn more and more of the circus over to Ingram’s brother, thinking there should be a more balanced proportion of power and control.”

  Patrick snorted. “The man didn’t want to share,” he spat. “He wanted it all, eventually. I’m glad he’s gone.”

  “I’ll head back to the office and see if I can dig up something on this lawyer,” Brandie said. “What’s his last name?”

  “Finch,” Patrick and Hodges answered together. Hodges continued, “I think Chester has one of Samuel’s business cards in his trailer if he hasn’t thrown them all out. Might tell you who he works for, at least. He never did tell us who wanted to buy the circus.”

  Brandie thanked him, and then she and her sister walked off. Sebastian said he’d be back in the morning to go over the wreckage one more time with Patrick and then took his leave as well.

  Hodges and Patrick stood there with April, staring at the mess in front of them. She was about to say something else, something about how sorry she was for their loss, when she felt the grip on her powers, felt her body stiffen as she stood there. She glanced down at her hands as her pale skin started to shift to the ash-gray shade of her banshee, her feet already leaving the ground.

  Oh, shit…

  Twenty-Two

  Wyatt woke to the sounds of someone screaming. At first, he thought it was merely the screams of his nightmares, but eventually the wails ripped him from a cold sleep as recognition dawned. He had heard those same cries less than a week ago.

  Jerking his covers off his legs, he leaped from the bed, still dressed from where he collapsed last night. He wasn’t even sure how he managed to get to bed, if he was honest. Leaving his room, he noticed his trailer door already open as a woman started down the steps. He raced after her, springing from his trailer and hitting the ground hard. He came up short as he scanned the area for the sound, noticing Seraphine standing there, searching the area as well. Why the hell was she in my trailer?

  Lights popped on in other trailers, the makeshift camp coming to life as people came out to investigate the disturbance to their already emotional night. The wails sounded again, echoing off the school walls. Wyatt jerked his attention toward the sound and sprinted off to follow it, Seraphine right behind him. He feared what he would find, but knew what it was all the same. He recognized that wail, and it made his skin crawl, even knowing who made it.

  As he neared his cousin’s trailer, he wasn’t the only one rushing in that direction, and by the time his feet hit the first step, a small crowd gathered around the front of Sedwick’s home. Wyatt jerked the door open, rushing inside and leaving Seraphine behind. He came to a sudden stop as he stared at—April?—floating in the air above a screaming Sedwick, who shoved himself back into his recliner to the point of almost toppling it over. Wyatt’s cousin just stared at the banshee as she screamed at him, pointing a long gray finger at his chest.

  Wyatt froze as April turned her whitish eyes toward him, her blue lips wide as she keened her unnerving cry. He glanced over at his cousin. If April floated in front of Sedwick, then that meant someone close to him was about to die, and the only one close to him outside of their grandfather that Wyatt knew was Sedwick’s father, Wyatt’s uncle, Ingram Compton. Wyatt glanced over at a photo on a small table that contained Sedwick and his father near some lake, both small korrigans with long shaggy hair, Ingram’s a little lighter than his son’s due to age, their dark red eyes sparkling under bushy eyebrows.

  April’s wailing continued, jerking Wyatt’s gaze back around to where she hovered in the air. He moved over to Sedwick, reaching out to comfort his cousin. “She’s not here to hurt you,” Wyatt assured the shaking korrigan. At least not physically or intentionally. Wyatt glanced back up at April wondering how she handled being the bearer of such tragic news all the time, “We need to call your father.” He glanced back at Sedwick, They couldn’t bear to los
e another family member. Who the hell is doing this?

  April’s wailing stopped, and as Wyatt glanced back around, he saw her dark gray form slipping through the trailer ceiling and out into the night. He stared at that spot in the ceiling for a moment before turning back to Sedwick, who just sat there, trembling as he gawked at the place where the banshee vanished.

  “What the hell was that thing?” he asked, turning to Wyatt, his eyes wide with panic.

  “A banshee,” Wyatt said. “Now, we really need to call your father. I’m not sure how much time we have.”

  “Why are we calling my father?” Sedwick asked, his voice a high-pitch. “Why was the banshee here?”

  Wyatt took a deep breath. “Banshees warn people of a loved one’s soon death. She visited me Friday night to warn me our grandfather was close to death. That’s why we need to call your father. Something’s about to happen to him if it hasn’t already.”

  “Wyatt!” Patrick’s voice came from outside just seconds before the bulky man barged into the trailer, Hodges a couple of steps behind him. “Sedwick!” He stopped just inside the doorway, staring at Wyatt holding Sedwick at arms’ length, both men staring at Patrick. The larger man stood there, his hands on his hips, chest heaving with his heavy breaths as he shook his head. “I thought...” He shrugged. “I don’t know what I thought to be honest.”

  Sedwick stared up at the ceiling. “That can’t be right,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “How could he be close to death? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “We saw that creature just...just...she flew through your roof!” Hodges shouted, wringing his hands as he stared up at the ceiling. “We saw April…back at the…she just… What is she?”

  Wyatt sucked in a breath, tired of everyone referring to April as a thing or creature. “That person was a banshee,” he spat. Then he turned back to Sedwick. “Your father. Call him.”