April's Fool

by Robbie Cox

  Sedwick glanced up at Wyatt, his brows furrowed with confusion that matched the expression on his face. “But my father couldn’t be about to die,” he whispered, shaking his head. “How? It’s not...”

  Wyatt grabbed his cousin’s shoulders and shook him. “We’ll worry about the how later. For now, call your father. Trust me. A banshee’s keening is not a false alarm. I know; she warned me about Gramps.”

  Sedwick stared at Wyatt, his eyes still wide with confusion. Finally, the shaggy-headed korrigan nodded as he moved to get his cell phone. Just as he picked it up, however, the lawyer, Samuel Finch, stepped through the door, his face a little paler than normal, eyes wide with what Wyatt thought seemed like panic.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Patrick snapped as he turned to grab the lawyer.

  “Patrick, wait!” Wyatt said, letting go of Sedwick as he moved over to the other man. “Trust me; I want to thrash the bastard as much as you do, but not now; not with grandfather’s death just hours ago.”

  Samuel straightened his suit jacket as he stood taller, running a hand through his short dark hair, his eyes darting to Patrick, then to Sedwick, before settling on Wyatt. “Your grandfather died?” the man asked, his voice a little higher than normal. His body trembled, and Wyatt could tell the man attempted to hide his anxiety by messing with his jacket more than necessary. “I’m sorry to hear that. May I ask what happened?”

  “No you may not,” Wyatt said. A creak sounded behind him. and he turned to see Sedwick now sitting in the recliner, his hands clasped as he stared at the rest of them. Wyatt didn’t blame his cousin. A banshee was a scary sight. At least, when in banshee form. “Sedwick, you need to call your father. Now. We need to make sure he’s all right.”

  Sedwick nodded, staring at the picture of him and his father on the table beside the chair. “Yes, I’ll call him...I just...” He glanced up at Wyatt. “I’ll call him. Take the lawyer out of here.”

  “With pleasure,” Patrick said as he moved to shove Samuel Finch through the front door.

  Samuel held his hands up, then nodded as he stepped backward through the door onto the small set of steps leading down to the ground. He stopped for a moment at the door, however, and glanced back at Sedwick.

  Patrick kept walking, forcing the man out, and Hodges walked behind the bulky man as Wyatt stepped in behind him. At the door, Wyatt turned and glanced at Sedwick as his cousin picked up his phone. “Let me know what he says,” Wyatt said. “Tell him to be careful. Whoever is after our family has set their sights on him.”

  Sedwick nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line.

  Wyatt stared for a moment more before turning and continuing his trek outside. Now to find out why that snake was there.

  The lawyer only stood a few feet away from the trailer, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his lanky legs parted slightly as he stared at Wyatt. Patrick stood in front of the man, his thick arms over his broad chest, glaring at the lawyer. Seraphine and Hodges flanked Samuel. Wyatt still wasn’t sure what the founder of Black Hollow was doing there.

  Some who had gathered in front of Sedwick’s trailer before Wyatt arrived started to scatter; others stood in a small cluster, their focus on the lawyer who seemed to always appear out of thin air and at the wrong time. The man had a nose for tragedy and how to make the most of it. His uncanny gift filled Wyatt with disgust.

  “Funny bit of timing you seem to have,” Wyatt said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why are you here? And why now?”

  Samuel cocked an eyebrow at Wyatt, his lip curled up in a lopsided grin. “You don’t think that creature’s wailing wasn’t heard for blocks? I came just like everyone else here came.” He pointed to those gathered around, watching the exchange. “We all wanted to know what made that noise.”

  “The banshee is not a creature,” Wyatt snarled, puffing his chest with a deep breath of agitation. “And you’re still not welcome here, just like you’ve never been welcomed. My grandfather wouldn’t sell, and neither will I. Now, get off our property.” He turned to go back inside to see if his cousin had managed to get in touch with his father, but Samuel’s chuckle stopped him. Wyatt turned, staring at the other man. “What’s so damn funny?”

  The lawyer gestured around him. “This isn’t your property. This school belongs to Black Hollow, and they’re only allowing you to use it temporarily.” He pointed to the trailers and then down the street to where Wyatt knew the circus was set up. “You own trucks and tents, trailers and carnival rides that seem to be breaking apart on you.” He shook his head. “What you own seems to be turning on you, but where it sits is not yours.” He slid his arms over his slender chest as he shrugged. “Wyatt, don’t be a fool like your grandfather. Sell while the selling’s good; make some money for the rest of your family before anything else happens. Is it really worth it? Tragedy seems to have latched onto your legacy here. How many will you permit it to claim?” Samuel stood straighter, taking a deep breath as he gave his jacket another tug with both hands. “What if I promise all the performers will remain with the circus? No one will be let go, not even you.”

  Wyatt just stared at the man, anger making his body shake a little. He said nothing, however, as he turned and walked away, mainly because he found himself asking the same question the lawyer asked him. Is it really worth it if people keep dying?

  Twenty-Three

  April groaned as the incessant pounding at her door woke her from a troubled sleep. She reached up, holding her head as she silently threatened to kill whoever was at her doorstep. Rolling over, she glanced at the clock, knowing that whatever time it said would still be too damn early. 9:30. Yeah, too early.

  She blew out a breath as she tossed the covers off her legs and swung them over the edge of the bed, her muscles screaming at her. As soon as the Powers That Be was through with her, they returned her to where they claimed her, in front of the wreckage of the carnival ride, her clothes back to normal, her hair a deep red, and her flesh a pale pink. By the time her feet touched the ground, the others had vanished which didn’t surprise her. After all, they had watched her lifting into the air, her body shifting to an ash-gray banshee in rags. She thought about returning to the circus camp in her more-human persona, but then decided they might ask too many questions of her, which she couldn’t answer. She made that mistake with Wyatt; she couldn’t do it with Sedwick. Instead, she just went home, stripped down, and climbed into bed, ignoring the burning desire for a glass—okay, a bottle—of wine. Turned out, she didn’t need it. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she passed right out.

  The pounding on her door echoed throughout her house again, begging for her to rise and answer it.

  “I’m coming!” she shouted as she shoved herself off the bed. She grabbed her robe from her hope chest at the foot of her bed and slid it over her shoulders, tying it around her waist. Who in the hell is knocking on my door? Ready to snap someone’s head off, she jerked the door open—but stopped, the reprimand caught in her throat as she stared into Wyatt’s pale-red eyes. “Wyatt?” she asked after swallowing her anger. “Everything okay? Are you all right? I mean…”

  He smiled at her, and the sight warmed her heart. He nodded. “I’m fine.” Then he shrugged. “Well, as fine as I can be considering. I need to go over to the mortuary to make the final arrangements for my grandfather. We’ll be shipping his body back to Salem, where the family will bury him.”

  Her heart ached for what Wyatt was going through, wishing there was some way to make things easier, but knowing in these situations, only time eased the pain. “And what about Sedwick? How was he after…you know?”

  “He’s fine as far that goes,” Wyatt told her. “He called his father, who seems to be somewhere in the mountains. He used to love those mountains. He thought Sedwick was crazy, but promised to keep his eye out for runaway boulders. Sedwick said he sent his condolences and would be in Salem when Gramps arrived, so he didn’t get there without a reception.” He cocked h
is head to the side as he stared at her through narrowed eyes. “You said you had visions when you get sent to warn someone. What did you see with my uncle?”

  She started to protest, remind him of the dangers of telling people, but he cut her off with an uplifted hand. “I promise; I’m just curious. I won’t go off half-cocked. I know better than anyone it’s no use.”

  She sighed, not sure she believed him. “Want some coffee? I could sure use some.” She stepped out of the way, gesturing him inside. “Come on; I’ll fix us a cup.”

  He stepped inside, thanking her, and she couldn’t resist smiling at how nervous he looked. It tickled her heart.

  They entered her kitchen, Wyatt moving to lean back on the counter, hands in his pockets, and April walking over to start their coffee. “You promise you won’t go blabbing what I tell you to anyone, especially Sedwick?” she asked as she pulled two mugs from the cabinet. “I think we’ve had enough chaos for a while, and besides, your uncle isn’t even in town; you just said so. No need bringing grief to your cousin when he can’t do anything about it.”

  He grinned. “Says the woman who turned into a banshee to warn him last night.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Besides, I can’t control that part of me.” She sighed as she clicked the button on the brewer. “Trust me; I truly wish I could.”

  “I can imagine,” he said. “I bet it takes a toll on you as well as the ones you warn.” He nodded. “And yes, I promise. I won’t tell a soul. I was kind of hoping you could tell me if it was natural causes or, you know, like my grandfather.”

  She handed him the first cup of coffee and then put her cup under the brewer. “I saw your uncle standing there. I think he was hunting, because I saw feathers falling from the sky around him, and I think he had some sort of gun in his hand, or maybe it was a bat. I’m not sure, but it was long and dark. He was laughing one minute, and then I watched as something—I couldn’t tell what—hit him in the chest, knocking him backward. There was blood on his chest. When he hit the ground, bright lights flashed.” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen those before, but it could symbolize where he was when it happens. That’s all I saw.”

  Wyatt gave her a weak smile. “That’s pretty descriptive, actually. More than you saw with my grandfather.”

  His words slapped her, and she hoped he didn’t mean to hurt her. She did nothing but help him find out who was after his family since he pulled into Black Hollow. Surely, he didn’t think she held things back from him. “I’m sorry,” she offered. “I don’t always get the whole picture, but usually snippets and glimpses. I would have told you if I had seen more.”

  He set his cup on the counter as he walked over to her, slipping his hands to her waist as he gazed down into her eyes. “I never thought you kept things from me,” he said, smiling. “That’s not what I meant at all. I think if I had a description like the one you just gave about my uncle, it would have driven me nuts trying to figure out every detail. It’s best I probably only knew what you gave me.” He leaned forward, kissing April’s forehead, and she closed her eyes as she savored the warmth of his lips on her skin. Pulling away, he said, “I appreciate everything you’ve done. Promise.”

  She slid her hands to his chest. “I wish I could have done more.”

  “We all did what we could,” he assured her. “It just wasn’t enough. As you said, once you see it, the deaths are destined. It’ll be the same for my uncle. I just hope Sedwick can spend some time with him before it happens.”

  “So do I.” She patted his chest, not wanting to be out of his arms, but knowing there still was so much to do, and this was the last day of the circus. “I’ll go with you to the mortuary. Just give me a second to get dressed.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I’d appreciate the company.” He stepped back, reaching for his coffee mug. “After you left last night, that lawyer dude showed back up again. I swear, how that man keeps popping up at the right time is annoying as hell.”

  She grabbed her coffee and headed toward the back of the house and her bedroom. “Why does he want your circus so badly?”

  “I wish I knew, but to be honest, I’m almost tempted to sell it to him.”

  She turned, and the slump of Wyatt’s shoulders and down-turn of his lips tore at her heart. Even with the threat of his grandfather’s death looming over him, he managed to smile. Now, he just looked defeated. “If my uncle is next, that leaves just a handful of us between Samuel and the circus, Sedwick and I being at the top of the list. If we sold it, the deaths would stop; I’m sure of it. Keeping them alive is better than holding onto the circus.”

  “But Wyatt, this is your legacy.” She stepped up to him. “Your grandfather wanted you to have that circus. You can’t give up. Everyone is counting on you. We can find out who’s behind this. I know we can. Sebastian is on it, as are the Underwood sisters. We can do this.”

  He reached out with his free hand, caressing her cheek as he gazed at her. She pressed her cheek into his palm, drawing comfort from his touch. “I think I’d rather stay here in Black Hollow with you, if you want to know the truth,” he said. “I know it sounds stupid, but even with all the chaos this week, being with you has been the happiest moments I can remember. Losing that would be like the murderer winning. Whoever it is has already taken my father and my grandfather and is about to take my uncle as well. I won’t allow them to take you, too.”

  She leaned up, kissing him softly, sucking in a breath as she pulled away. “No one can take me away from you, Wyatt. I’m right here. Promise.”

  He leaned down, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her tightly against him as he kissed her, his lips pressed roughly against hers. She could feel his excitement rubbing against her abdomen, felt the warmth of his breath on her cheeks, as her passion stirred. There was no way she would leave him, which meant she definitely had to find out who wanted his family dead.

  And soon.

  Twenty-Four

  Wyatt combed his fingers through his hair as they stepped out of April’s car and into the late-morning sun. While he wanted to be there for Sedwick, Wyatt needed to finish taking care of his grandfather first, making sure the funeral home did the arrangements right. They had family at home in Salem who would receive Chester’s body, getting things ready for a memorial for when the circus returned home. First, however, Wyatt needed to make sure things continued at the circus for their final day in Black Hollow. He meant what he said to April; he was ready to leave the circus, seriously considering leaving it to Sedwick. What was once a fun environment had now become one of death and loss. He was over it, even if April couldn’t understand his motives.

  He stepped onto the roundabout grounds, knowing that checking on things was just an excuse, postponing having to deal with his grandfather’s death again. He knew it needed to be handled, but he just wasn’t up for it. Not now. Probably not ever.

  Wyatt glanced around, noticing the quietness of the area. Lights were on; music blared, and the normal clowns walked around with fistfuls of balloons, but there was no one to buy them. The air was filled with the greasy aroma of corn dogs and pretzels mixed with the sugary scents of cotton candy and candied apples, yet there was no one in line, eager to purchase the food. The mermaid waved at Wyatt, her tail barely flapping in the water as she waited for someone—anyone—to come take a chance at dunking her, and Edna, the fortune-telling witch, sat at her table playing solitaire with her tarot cards. Wyatt wasn’t even sure how that worked. Chuckles, the Clown sat on an old foldout chair, smoking a cigarette, his legs crossed as he swung one of his large feet. He just shrugged as he watched Wyatt pass. He gave the mermaid a weak wave in return as he continued onward, moving toward the big top.

  “I’m guessing news of the accidents have kept everyone away,” Wyatt said as he continued to glance around the circus grounds. “Not a very good last day, huh? I can’t say I blame them, though.”

  He felt April slide h
er hand into his, her other hand clutching at his upper arm as she leaned into him, doing her best to lend him her support. Smiling, he glanced over at her and then leaned down and kissed the side of her head. Perhaps his father wasn’t the only lucky circus performer in the universe. Fairy tales talked about true love’s kiss and happy endings, right? Being there with April, he knew he found his, and she was worth changing the direction of his life.

  “Wyatt,” he heard Patrick’s voice call out.

  Turning, Wyatt saw the taller man walking toward him from the big top. Wyatt changed directions, heading toward Patrick, his hand still firmly clutched in April’s. “This can’t be good.”

  “It’ll be fine,” April said, squeezing his hand. “One thing at a time.”

  He hoped she was right.

  “What’s happening?” he asked Patrick as they neared each other. He gestured around the grounds. “You can’t tell me we’re swamped.”

  Patrick ran a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath. “Not our best last day, I’ll admit, but it’s still morning. Give it an hour or two.”

  “Not sure our cash box can take another quiet day,” Wyatt said. “I take it, it’s even quiet in the tent?”

  Patrick nodded and then shrugged. “We’ve had days like this, bad towns. It’ll be better at the next stop.”

  “Black Hollow has never been a bad town,” Wyatt reminded the man before blowing out a deep breath. He stood there, one hand on his hip, as he stared around at the food trucks, rides, and animal displays, all empty and void of visitors. “Maybe that lawyer was right; maybe the time of circuses is over.” His gut clenched as he felt a tightening in his chest. “I don’t think I can do this without Gramps.”

  He felt April squeeze his hand again. “Wyatt…”