by J. P. Rice
Hmmmm. Another strange idea floated into my head. I thought about taking him with us to Sleepy Willow. We could sacrifice him to save ourselves if it came down to that. I doubted he would try to escape once we got to Sleepy Willow.
On the same note, he wouldn’t try to kill us either because we would be his only ticket out of there. Unless he had some serious connections in the netherworld, he would likely die by nightfall. He needed us, and who knows, he could come in handy if we got into a pinch.
It sounded ludicrous. Taking an enemy on a daring mission where teamwork would be of utmost importance. But I’d worked jobs with enemies before. We did what we had to do and then we went our separate ways. There was no high fiving or a raging kegger afterward, just a mismatched group solving a problem together.
One way or another, it appeared that Justinian would join us on this voyage.
I hadn’t been back to the place I’d grown up in for over three decades. Mike Merlino had helped overthrow King Ballistar and Alayna had lifted the curse over the land. It had been a desolate, gloomy atmosphere for most of my experience. I wondered how much had changed.
Chapter 11
I KICKED THE SIDE OF Justinian’s cage. “I’ve decided you’re taking a trip with us.”
In human form, he remained lying on his side with his back turned to me. “Not likely,” he responded in a monotone.
“No. Not likely. Definitely. As in you are definitely coming with us. Or you can die,” I told him.
“I’ve been telling you that’s what I want,” he said, raising his voice. He pulled the hood on the bathrobe that I’d bought him a few days ago.
I informed the lad, “Many people have uttered those words. Only a small percentage truly mean it. Many come to regret it all too late. You have a long life ahead of you. I know you don’t want to die.”
He sat up and faced me. He inclined his head, made eye contact and said, “It’s either that or go back to my house as a disgrace.”
“Disgrace? Psshh. Don’t feel bad because I bested you. You’re here because I recently got the better of Octavius. Is he, your fearless leader, ready to kill himself? Hardly. You need to pick yourself up and dust yourself off. And do it now because we are leaving soon.”
His head sank again. The melancholy werewolf. Who’d heard of such a thing? Then again, I’d never heard of a balding alpha until a few weeks ago. Strange quirks ran in the family, likely due to the incestuous breeding.
“Here. I bought you some new clothes too.” I opened the door of the cage and threw the bag inside. Camouflage sweatpants and a matching hoodie. Perfect for a trip to the netherworld. I locked the cage back up because I didn’t trust him.
I checked him out as his fierce blue eyes peered into the bag. Justinian had chestnut hair and a straight jawline accented with a chinstrap beard. The beard and his bushy eyebrows that came dangerously close to forming a unibrow were midnight brown, if not black.
He looked different from all the other wolves and not just in eye color. Even locked away in a cage with five o’clock shadow marring his stenciled beard, he had a much more refined quality than the other rugged wolves. I could still smell his aftershave from two days ago. But it wasn’t in an offensive way like when Caesar would douse himself in cologne instead of showering. Which had inevitably resulted in a dizzying one-two punch of cloying cologne and rank body odor.
I went into the kitchen where the Morrigan and Titania were getting ready to leave.
“What did you find out about the guy from the pawnshop?” I asked.
The Morrigan answered, “Low level freelance Asgardian supernatural. A greedy free agent. Very disposable.”
“And the suit?”
“Disposable too.”
“No. I mean what was it made of?” I hinted.
A smirk of recognition came to Mo’s pale face. “They found a few things that aren’t from any world we know. Which doesn’t leave too many options. Unless, obviously, it’s a world we don’t know about.”
The Asgardian didn’t surprise me since Loki wanted me dead. But it didn’t bode well and meant this was a wider operation than I’d originally expected. Who were all the power players involved?
“Have you ever heard of Dolphus Aquinus?” I asked the Morrigan.
She squinted and said, “Can’t say as I have. Why?”
That was strange. Owen had heard of him, but the Celtic Goddess of Death hadn’t. It made me question the validity even more. “Owen told me about this dwarf, Dolphus. Apparently, he sneaked into the Goblin Queen’s castle and got away with her favorite ruby ring.”
The Morrigan opened the fridge and grabbed a Red Bull. She cracked open the can with a big smile on her face. “Very interesting. It’s sounds vaguely familiar now that I think about it.”
I took a quick peek through the refrigerator to see if anything needed to be tossed before our trip. “I thought so too. The problem is that he’s now on the run from the Goblin Queen and he just pops up randomly in different locations and tells his story. Apparently, he’s been outrunning the goblins, which is pretty impressive.”
“So he’s on the run from the goblins,” the Morrigan thought out loud as she flicked the side of the Red Bull can.
I set a carton of eggs on the counter and added, “Which could place him anywhere inside Sleepy Willow. I thought it would be nice to find out his secrets, but it may turn into a wild goose chase.”
“And we don’t have any time to waste. The death card producer struck again today. It’s only a matter of time until they produce one of our cards.” The Morrigan provided a stark reminder of the power behind the death cards, one which I was trying to ignore.
The Morrigan was selfish, but correct. If we were the best hope to solve this problem, our deaths would ensure whoever was producing these cards could stay in business. If they could kill my father, not even the Gods were safe.
“Then I guess we should go straight for the swamp,” I suggested.
“Let me think for a minute about this Dolphus.” The Morrigan chugged some of her Red Bull. The caffeine rush caused her eyes to dance around in thought. “What do goblins hate more than anything?”
I counted on my fingers as I spoke, “Most other creatures. Losing their riches. Having fun.”
“That’s the one,” the Morrigan said and crushed the empty can in her hands. “They despise entertainment. What is the main form of entertainment in Sleepy Willow?”
“The carnival, slash, haunted house that travels around to different locations.” As the words escaped my mouth, the revelation hit me. “He’s probably working with the carnival. The perfect cover.”
“How haven’t the goblins figured that out yet?” Titania asked.
I threw the expired eggs into the trash bag and tied it off, ready to take it out to the sidewalk before we left. “The goblins are a great many things. Intelligent isn’t one of them. That goes for the queen as well. Ironically, they are master thieves. That’s why it’s so crazy that no one has raided the castle. It should be easy to outsmart them.”
“I’d love to just lay the area to waste, but then we’d have a hell of a time finding Gareth amongst all the rubble. Maybe on the way out though.” The Morrigan had no problem with mass murder or upsetting the natural order when it came to demons or goblins. They were superfluous.
“Do we want to find the carnival first?” Titania asked.
The Morrigan pondered her question and responded, “I’m looking at it two ways. If we go to Dolphus and he’s not with the carnies, then we wasted time. But if we bust into the swamp and fall into a trap, it could take longer to get out of the trap than stopping by the carnival. Dolphus’s information could prove to save an enormity of time in the long run.”
“I say we go to the carnival first.” Even if it didn’t bear fruit, at least we would be entertained.
“I totally agree,” Titania chimed in.
I opened the dishwasher door and put the little detergent pack into the slot
. “Then we need to find out where the carnival is. When we arrive through the portal, we can tell security that we are going to see the carnival. That way, we know exactly where it is.” I shut the door, turned the dial and set the dishwasher to run.
I had my skin-tight battle suit on my bed with the backpack of beef jerky and sun-dried fruit next to it. My netherworld shoes, which were a combination of baseball cleat and low-cut boot were on the floor below the black suit.
My camo cargo pants and matching jacket were in the dryer. I planned to wear them over my suit and get rid of them when it was time for action. Only a few things left to do then we would be on our way. I needed to take out the trash because I didn’t know how long the trip would take. Then, I had to grab my clothes out of the dryer and get ready to leave.
The plan was taking shape, even though we were adding steps to it. Now we had to talk to Dolphus first and find out how he’d got in and, more importantly, out of the Goblin Queen’s castle. Then we had to storm said castle and find the talking dagger named Gareth.
Unfortunately, even with the dagger, we wouldn’t be out of the woods. We had to get the dagger to tell us who was behind the Death Card production. And after that, we had to track down the perpetrator. Rattling off the list reminded me of how much work was ahead just for a chance to find the mastermind.
There would be no grand payday in the end. Perhaps a hearty slap on the back from the Morrigan. And if she told the Gods that they should induct me into the pantheon, it would be a nice bonus. But the real motivation was bringing my father’s killer to justice and clearing my name in the process. The Morrigan had already told me that most of the Gods didn’t believe I’d killed Nuada, but I wanted complete exoneration.
And by justice for my father, I meant that I would kill anyone involved in the scheme. But first, we had a spooky carnival in the land of Fae to attend.
Chapter 12
WE ARRIVED AT THE TICKET booth just outside the carnival. Creepy classical music played in the background. The booth was manned by a sidhe man with solid red eyes, a braided purple beard to his belly and a smooth bald head. He sported a raven’s feather tucked behind each ear. Dressed in black robes and big gold hoop earrings, he slapped his hand down on the wooden counter with chipped red paint.
“Admission prices are listed,” he said, pointing at the writing on top of the booth.
I pulled four pieces of silver out of my pocket and set them on the counter. The employee struck like a snake, his arm lashing forward. His long fingers trapped the 1-ounce silver coins on the counter and dragged it inside the booth. He stared at us, his glowing red eyes burning through the darkness.
“Don’t start any trouble,” he warned, and slid four tickets to the edge of the counter.
I picked up the tickets and handed one each to Justinian and the Morrigan. “I’ll hold onto your ticket, Titania.”
“Sounds good,” replied the hovering dragonfly.
We walked up to the main gate that resembled the entrance to a cemetery. The black metal creaked open automatically, inviting us in to the haunted carnival. The light mist in the air had absorbed the rich purple lighting, creating a spooky atmosphere. A projection of a portal you would see on TV or the movies sat in front of us, waiting for us to enter.
The purple lighting shone through a circular projection filled with ancient symbols and a big pentagram in the middle. It would probably look cool on a book cover! We walked through the fake portal and entered the carnival. Immediately, something in the back attracted my eyes and I ignored the rides and games right in front of me.
The colorful fog couldn’t hide the haunted castle that loomed over everything else. The entrance was the open mouth of a giant green demon head replete with long fangs and bugged out eyes. It looked like Disney had mistakenly hired Tim Burton to decorate a princess castle.
The carnival appeared as dark and creepy as the citizens had described it to me when I’d lived in Sleepy Willow. I liked it. None of the elves who had raised me attended any of the carnivals as they hadn’t had time or money for frivolous activity. That meant I’d never gone either. I’d only heard the stories.
Back to the mission at hand. We were at a disadvantage because Owen had never received a physical description of Dolphus. We were just working with a name, but I had confidence that if he were here, we would find him.
I gazed up at the sky and noticed two blackbirds, their spread wings cast against the milky backdrop of a full moon. I focused back on ground level and noticed a Ferris wheel and the other rides in the background. Groups of Fae creatures were making their rounds, enjoying something that didn’t come around much in this netherworld. Entertainment.
Initially, I hadn’t understood how the carnival had stayed in business while most of the citizens were starving. Staring at the creepy spectacle, I realized that it provided an escape from life’s problems. For a brief moment in time, the beings could forget about the crop curse or where the next meal would come from. Food was so scarce they couldn’t even purchase it, but they could buy an experience that would lift the spirit.
Two men walked toward us on stilts. Both men were wearing loincloths, holding a clear bottle in one hand and a lit torch in the other. They stopped moving and drank some liquid out of the bottle. The men turned to each other, looked up and placed the fire in front of their mouths. Both men spat a stream of flames high above and waddled over to the next group, replicating the performance.
The Morrigan said, “Let’s walk around and see who we can shake down privately.”
I noticed the red-eyed counter worker streak past us and disappear into the purple mist. Either his shift had just ended, or something was going on. The Morrigan’s pupils made her unmistakably identifiable. Perhaps she should have shifted into a different form.
A group of evil clowns, each one over seven feet tall, approached and surrounded us. They shrieked and screamed unintelligibly, then reached out to pinch us. I didn’t like this part of the carnival and seized up.
The Morrigan grabbed a clown with a white face and a black teardrop pattern by the wrist. In a swift motion, she pulled him closer and turned his arm, then she dropped her elbow on his. A stomach-churning crunch hit my ears, followed by feral yelps of pain as the clown falling to the ground.
The Morrigan announced loudly, “I don’t like clowns. So stay the hell away from us,” she warned, spinning around in a circle.
The other clowns put up their hands and backed away. A few daring members picked up their fallen comrade and took him away.
“So much for keeping a low pro, Mo,” I commented.
The Morrigan shrugged her shoulders and said, “I don’t like clowns. Why would they touch us? That’s weird.”
We continued past the gawking patrons, who were staring at the Morrigan with reverence. A group of zombies with blood smears around their mouths marched unsteadily up to us, noticed the Morrigan and darted off in the other direction, moving swifter than any zombie I’d ever seen.
The next exhibit was a werewolf juggling three human heads with blood trailing from the necks. He tossed them up and caught them by the hair, keeping the process going for the ten gawkers.
I elbowed Justinian. “You know that guy?”
He rolled his eyes and bit his bottom lip. “Cannot say as I do.”
I laughed. “If you want to stay and start up a career as a decapitated head juggler, I’d understand.”
He shot me a dirty look and the strong purple shafts of light gave the junior wolf a fiercer presence. He spoke with sharpness attached to his words, “Great offer. Very tempting. But I believe I shall pass.”
It appeared Justinian didn’t enjoy my usual brand of ‘busting chops’ humor. This wolf spoke in a more refined manner than the rest of the pack. Not to say that the pack was stupid. Far from it, but none of the other men used proper words like cannot or shall. He also orated like a singer, unlike the grunting spurts of words that came from the other pack members.
&
nbsp; We turned the corner and came to a merry-go-round lit up with an ultraviolet theme. As I got closer, I realized the horses were headless, bobbing up and down under the glowing lavender lighting, rotating on the track. The riders held onto the pole in the middle of the inanimate animals.
A mother with her young daughter on her lap passed, both smiling and having the time of their lives. I turned away, trying to forget the image but it had already been branded into my mind, serving as a constant reminder of my biggest fear.
I feared that my husband hadn’t disappeared. He’d wanted children just as much as me. And for some reason, I couldn’t bear him a child. Darabond had wanted a son. Someone to whom he could teach the secrets of life. Every man’s wish. And I’d failed at fulfilling his wish.
The cruelty of life had reared its ugly head when I had been undercover at the Red Cavern. How could a devil impregnate me, but not my own husband?
As much as I feared that something terrible had happened while he was serving a noble mission, another fear, a crippling fear, screamed at me that he’d left because I couldn’t give him a child. It would kill me if he were staying away from me willingly.
The worst part was that he wouldn’t even recognize me now with all my scars and magical prowess. Neither of us had known magic when he’d left. We simply loved each other. As my mind wandered, and I took in all the sights and sounds, I realized that I’d forgotten to concentrate on finding someone to shake down.
I saw the huge electrical generators on the horse-drawn trailers outside the carnival. How did they stay in business? From the employees to the electricity, it seemed like an expensive enterprise. Then I remembered it was the only show in town.
An evil clown waving her hands around wildly approached us. The Morrigan made a fist and drew it back, but the clown put her open hands in front of her chest. She said, “No trouble. I need to talk to you. I’m the owner.”
