Splendificent

by Dacy Alex

  Barnbus said, "This is your home. I am at a disadvantage."

  "So let's do it at the Hemera Carnival," Sofi suggested. "Tomorrow night? Eight o'clock? Primetime for Sofi to strut her stuff."

  Another crooked smile from Barnabus, "A carnival, ya say? I do like carnivals."

  "I dunno," Fleur chimed. "This seems dumber than a sack of dicks and riskier than a sack of heroin needles."

  Just hearing Fleur denying a gamble was stranger than Barnabus' presence. Giselle felt her mouth go dry at that.

  "Since when do you turn down a bet?" Dusty spoke what Giselle was thinking.

  Giselle started to ponder maybe Fleur had the right idea and Giselle had the wrong one. Though Fleur just gave one of her lazy shrugs.

  "Alrighty then," Barnabus hitched up his pinstriped pants. "You have yourselves a bet."

  "Splendificent!" Tristabelle exclaimed.

  Barnabus disappeared in a cloud of smoke along with their amulet. Giselle didn't know if they'd ever see him again.

  Chapter Twelve: Time to Play the Game

  Giselle once had a fear of dunk tanks. Falling down being submerged in water to the amusement of others elicited nothing but fear. She could barely grasp the fear that drowning people must have felt as Midtown Manhattan was deluged by what could be described as Poseidon's wet dream.

  Standing on the campus of Hemera, Giselle saw the carnival that was supposed to be a welcoming to the incoming freshman instead become the scene of their final farewell.

  The rapid waters deposited a glut of bodies at Giselle’s feet. Except it stopped being water bringing her children a decade younger than her, or clowns with bloated faces, or professors with broken glasses. It became a black ooze plastered with flickering stars that organized bodies as offerings at her feet.

  This devastating ooze seemingly uncontrollable spoke in a smooth male voice to Giselle, "Are you happy, mistress?"

  "No!" Giselle shrieked, shoulders tensed, agony pounding at her head making her feel she’s nothing more than a steel drum.

  "I didn't wanna buy you no cotton candy anyway!" Dusty whimpered.

  Dusty! And the others! They weren’t swallowed by the supplicant bile. In fact, no one had been swallowed by the ooze and regurgitated before Giselle’s Nike’s. Midtown was fine! Everyone was fine!

  Another hallucination. Another twisting of her supernatural world into impossible realms only she could see.

  With Barnabus to worry about, Giselle thought it best to keep her delusions private. Though she debated if pixie dust could help her. Maybe Fleur's blood?

  Vampire blood heals people on TV, but it doesn't heal the mind.

  Giselle gazed at the carnival Hemera was lavishing upon their freshmen. It was chaos with fire-breathers on stilts, a human foosball game, those horrific dunk tanks featuring professors, plenty of food vendors, jugglers, games, and something titled funhouse in front of the student services building.

  "So, " Fleur began, hands shoved in denim shorts pockets. "Where would I hide If I was a greedy fiend who cheated and stole all my life."

  Dusty retorted, "What do ya mean 'if?' You are a greedy fiend who cheated and stole all your life."

  "Goodness, that 'dunk tank' is truly amazing!" Tristabelle shouted, so happy she even went up on her toes. "A very fun way to get the children to enjoy waterboarding the criminal element. Humans are quite clever."

  Uhh....

  Sofi stepped in front of the group, a fire-breather shooting flames over her flame-red hair. Sofi's lush curves were hugged by a white mini-skirt and an off the shoulder crop-top that read "Out-Foxed."

  "Let's split up and look for Barnabus. And whoever finds him gets a favor from all the rest."

  "Yer on!" Dusty stated with a fist pump. "I told ya'll I ain't lost a day in my life. And I'm still breathing, so I ain't losing."

  "Delightful," Tristabelle replied. With a flourish of her wrist she spoke, "I have not had good competition since last Rodgir and I played shotput with that bandit's head."

  "Tristabelle," Giselle heard the honeyed voice of Tryggyr speak. It made her jump and quickened her heartbeat.

  The princess, in a measured manner, pulled free her magic compact mirror. She flipped it open to reveal the face of her dangerous brother.

  "Have the humans returned to normal? Or has the spread of the supernatural claimed them?" he queried.

  Tristabelle shook her head at her brother.

  "But they're about to be cured," Giselle blurted, then couldn't stop from following with, "So look forward to it. And don't bug your little sister. It's rude."

  Tristabelle's deep-set almond eyes blinked back surprise at Giselle speaking. Even Tryggyr was silent for a moment.

  "I very much will stop, Giselle Nyfall," he spoke tightly.

  The image of Tryggyr faded away. Yet Giselle felt his imminent threat remained more present than ever.

  Did I provoke him? What was I thinking?

  Tristabelle rubbed Giselle's shoulders as she announced, "Let us be as brave and bold as Giselle and root out this Barnabus."

  They were off in seconds. The search for Barnabus and the amulet pulled each supernatural girl in different directions. Towards a kissing booth, towards a hot dog stand, they moved with purpose. Giselle questioned if anyone saw them as regular freshmen. They looked too beautiful, moved too gracefully, stepped too lightly to be thought of that way.

  There was a desperate wish from Giselle that they would finally have a straight-forward situation. Barnabus would be found, the device returned, men cured, Tryggyr averted. Then everyone could begin school like the normal people they weren't. Giselle could live a life less like an anime and more like a teen drama.

  Fleur did ask a good question. "Where would a crooked carnie who can disappear with but a fleeting thought hide?" In Giselle’s mind there was a gnawing doubt that said the only carnival he was in was a Carnival cruise ship.

  But a greedy man can always be trusted to be greedy. And the bait of Golden Land gold could lure even an archbishop to risk this gamble. Barnabus had to be festering his annoying spirit here.

  With the fact she was dealing with a criminal in mind, Giselle turned her hide-and-seek skills upon the infamous Hemera hockey team and their legal advice booth. The starting left defenseman was discussing how best to extort your cellmate out of his commissary snacks in jail. Barnabus was not among the rapt listeners.

  Giselle swiveled around, blue eyes scanning the festivity. They fell upon an approaching man who Giselle immediately knew was not of this human world. His pale eyes were sharp as Tristabelle's sword point, speaking to a ferocity no human could own. Stubble lined his diamond-shaped face that put the man in his late twenties. He wore a navy suit with a solid red shirt underneath.

  "Young lady, allow me a moment of your time. Were you just with Fleur Flanagan? I need to talk to her. Alone."

  Giselle felt her mouth dry. She didn't want to speak the truth. She knew she shouldn't speak the truth.

  "Fleur has no equal in temerity and criminality," he noted, leaning in close to Giselle. "She owes me a debt that cannot go uncollected."

  "I can, uh, give her a message. Who am I talking to?"

  "Tell her you talked to the man who makes her feel bad in the morning. Tell her you talked to the man who's going to take money out of her purse. Tell her you talked to the living saint, tell her you talked to Lazarus of Bethany."

  Oh shit.

  Lazarus strode off, bold steps that parted a sea of people the way Moses might have parted the Red Sea. A fitting piece of movement for a biblical figure.

  Giselle thought she should update the others on where Barnabus was not and where Lazarus was. Well, the others who aren't Tristabelle who communicates with a magic compact mirror. But as Giselle reached into her checkerboard bag, she felt something wiggling in her in the ear.

  "Eeep!"

  "Hey, baby," a squeaky male voice spoke.

  The probing, questing slug was Stuart’s tongue. And he s
melled like nachos. That and the cologne they sell for a couple bucks at gas stations.

  "Ugh, Stu, stop tonguing my ear."

  "That’s our greeting."

  "It most certainly is not," Giselle replied, imitating Tristabelle. "And I'm busy, Stu. I’m looking for someone."

  For the second time in NYC Giselle’s world was covered by blackness. But this wasn’t a kidnapper's sack thrown over her face. These were soft, relaxing hands that smelled of warm vanilla.

  "Sofi?" Giselle asked, as she let herself sink into the warm hands.

  "You don’t know your Big Sis? Bad girl."

  With her hands off Giselle’s face, Anika spun Giselle to face her. The head of student services eyes’ were bright with silver flashes.

  "You should watch your back, Giselle, because I certainly am," Anika declared, a full smile rather than a smirk taking hold of her face.

  Anika wore an off-the-shoulder sheer blouse that to Giselle gave her a delicate presence. Even if she was the witch who orchestrated a super team of supernatural bad-asses. Her silver hair was twisted, pulled, and pinned to her head in an updo. There was an explosion of neon multicolored lights from the various booths around her giving her a rich and somehow angelic glow.

  But for a moment Anika’s windswept updo was replaced by snake-shaped black ooze. Their teeth made of tiny knives gnashed at Giselle. Adrenaline shot through the freshman girl and fear rose.

  Seconds later Big Sis Anika was back to her gorgeous self.

  "I know you," Stuart began, nearly dropping his nachos. "You’re Anika Lindgren. Head of Student Services."

  Anika was like a shark and Stuart just a ripple in the ocean. She didn’t acknowledge him, though he was a student who might one day need services.

  What had Stu said about Anika? Something about a warning from Madame Wanda about not trusting her. Was it a witchy rivalry? Something deeper? Did Wanda consider Anika something execrable?

  "Big sis... I mean, Miss Lindgren, this is Stuart Logan. He goes to Hemera. He's a freshman like me."

  Now Anika acknowledged Stu, extending her long-fingered hand to him.

  A moment's hesitation delayed Stu. His eyes looked to Giselle who nodded a go-ahead.

  Stuart puffed out his scrawny chest to note, "I’m Giselle’s man. I'm the king of her jungle. A lion. When they took a sonogram of me, they don’t see no baby, they saw the animal kingdom."

  I totally do not have time for this.

  Of course Anika just smirked before turning to Giselle and offering, "Let’s hit the selfie booth."

  There was little choice in the matter for Giselle as Anika took her to a selfie booth featuring Drew the Cloud, the school's mascot, who had routinely been the subject of sexual harassment suits.

  Anika fell into Giselle’s arm the way a ballerina might fall into the arms of her partner, giving all of her lithe, toned body to the blond freshman.

  Stuart, the lion, edged into the picture with the pout of a kitten. He at least stood his ground to Drew trying to muscle him out of the picture by elbowing the cloud in his ribs.

  With a painting of clouds in the sky as the background, Anika snapped a picture of the odd menagerie.

  "One more, dear. Just me and you," Anika cooed.

  But Giselle’s blue eyes were dialed into the kissing booth. Though not the way Stuart might have liked.

  The kissing booth was where a little man in a top hat holding the amulet and a chili dog was heading.

  Without a look to her companions Giselle rushed to the kissing booth. Her "legendary" JV cross country skills and some less than graceful parkour moves over a trashcan and a golden retriever got her away from Anika and Stuart and at the booth. It was built out of wood and painted in the blue and yellow of Hemera with a cloud forming a lip print.

  Barnabus hopped on the lips-shaped stool for his kiss, chili dog particles sitting in his beard.

  "GOTCHA!" Giselle bellowed, diving forward. She moved with spectacular grace for one so klutzy. Unfortunately, she was diving at nothing but an empty seat. Barnabus, if he had even been real, had evaded her grasp. But what didn’t evade her was the kisser behind the booth.

  She’d know that woodsy scent from anywhere. Krisdane!

  Giselle sunk into everything Krisdane. Her world, no, her universe became Krisdane and everything that would ever be Krisdane. She could feel her naked body cocooned in Krisdane’s orange blond curls, feel his words taking her to a place only they could share, feel... his beard?

  Krisdane did not have facial hair.

  "This chick is kissing a goat!" she heard a guy shout.

  "I can't believe someone actually went to the kissing booth this year," a girl said cruelly.

  Maybe it’s another hallucination, she supposed. But then someone else added...

  "She’s getting it on with a goat!"

  Well, I should probably kill myself now.

  These hallucinations came as strokes of the cheek, punches to the gut, and surges to the sex. And they weren’t stopping. Giselle felt as if the sky had one single rain cloud, and it followed her wherever she roamed.

  "Ya’ll better go and delete them pics and videos," Giselle heard Dusty order. Though she didn’t see her pint-sized friend as her face was buried in her hands.

  "Make me," someone with a gruff accent said.

  Then that someone emitted a devastating shriek and yelled a few things about a broken nose.

  "You’re unworthy of going to Hemera," a mature woman’s voice denounced Dusty.

  "But y'all are worthy of catching this ass whipping. Now get."

  The crowd scattered erasing Giselle’s delving into a beast fetish from their phones.

  Dusty pulled up Giselle who quipped, "Too violent to be a fairy? I just don’t see it."

  Dusty puffed her chipmunk cheeks and put her hands on her hips.

  Touchy subject!

  Giselle was about to apologize and thank Dusty when they both saw Barnabus dart past a "CLOSED" sign and into the Fun House in front of the Student Services building.

  "Let's grab em," Dusty instructed, pounding her fist into her palm.

  Dusty and Giselle trotted to the Fun House with Dusty obviously slowing up for Giselle.

  The Fun House was a large tent with a front sign with the words "FUN HOUSE" painted in blocky rainbow letters. As the girls approached they found the entrance blocked by a tall guy wearing a Hemera basketball jersey.

  "Sorry, it’s closed for the night."

  Giselle’s shoulders sagged and she cursed the carnival, Barnabus, the amulet, the Fun House, and the entire species of goats.

  Dusty was more proactive, "We ain’t met yet, have we? I'm Dusty Blackwood. That's D-u-s-t-y Blackwood with the double D's, ain't they great!"

  They may well have been the greatest thing the young man had ever witnessed. His eyes, his mind, his very soul were lost in the depths of her fleshy pillows.

  Which was great for Giselle because she just scooted on into the Fun House.

  Mirrors, mirrors, mirrors. mirrors there. Mirrors every fucking where. But where is Barnabus?

  There he was in front of a mirror towards the back, in the grips of a giant green hand that extended from the mirror. There was Barnabus being squished in half. There went his torso and his legs falling to the ground and scattering into ash. There indeed went Barnabus.

  "Not happening, not happening, not happening," Giselle muttered

  "Come and sleep with me," a male voice urged with all the delicacy of an angry Rottweiler.

  Giselle turned around ever so slowly because she figured this could be the last movement she ever made. The turn had to come to an end at some point. And when it did, she found herself looking into a mirror. Its reflection? A creature with horns the length of a baseball bat, teeth sharpened into malicious points, red skin, and talons for nails.

  Somehow she knew who this was.

  "Belephegor," she whispered.

  "Rest with me," he pleaded.

  Gis
elle would have rather rested in a pool of acid than rest with Belephegor. And so she dashed off with those JV cross country skills.

  The exit. She had to get to the damn exit where she could find sword-wielding elves, or flame-throwing foxes, or anything that wasn’t a fragile sack of human bones.

  But a mammoth talon-equipped hand sprung from a mirror. Giselle skidded to a clumsy halt right before it. As her heart pounded relentlessly, she moved in the opposite direction. She passed four mirrors before another hand exploded through a mirror.

  This was not how boss fights are supposed to go. The main character was not supposed to be running from a hellish demise.

  The demon roared and to Giselle, it sounded like hell was calling her name

  Each time she moved, there was a demon hand waiting for her. As she ran she felt like she was running over the smashed bones of sinners.

  Belephegor reached low and caught her ankle. Giselle tumbled to the ground, tumbled into that mass of bones. Her bag fell out of her hand. Earthly objects like her phone, the dick pills she confiscated from Stuart, her debit card, her cash went skidding about. All things she’d never see again.

  Why her? Why couldn’t she get a regular dorm with a sweet girl from overseas whose culture she’d learn all about? Why couldn’t she go buy textbooks or sit in the student union or read in the library or do any pleasantly mundane human things? Why was she hounded by demons and living skeletons and all the other shit that’d been flung at her? Because of a computer error?

  "Leave me alone!" she howled with enough force to be five Giselles.

  Then in her last act of defiance, she threw the bottle Stuart’s dick pills at Belephegor. At least her aim was on point as she threw it down his throat.

  There was a scream. A terrible and pitiful scream that Giselle thought came from her.

  It had come from Belephegor. The demon was digging at his throat as if there were maggots swarming inside. Fear, which had been thick on Giselle’s face, had traveled to Belephegor. His features twisted to something more grotesque than frightening. Giselle couldn’t look.

  Nor did she have to. As she heard determined footsteps coming to her side and a disgusted "hmph," she fainted.